The Mockingjay Sings

Anne Foyer; such a nice young woman. Couldn’t hurt a fly if she tried. Until the hunger games.

I can tell she doesn’t want the hunger games to change her. I can see it in her eyes. But the hunger games changes everyone at least a little. Whether it changes you into a killer, or into a scarred little girl who just wants to forget; it changes you. I want to help her, but I don’t know how. I want to give her the strength not to change, and to be the sweet, innocent girl we all new.

It’s then that an idea pops into my mind, as if dropped by a passing bird, out of nowhere.

I search around frantically for what I’m going to send her, and then I find it; a mirror. Just a little compact; gold with two mirrors on the inside. On the note I wrote, “Know Thyself” and signed it. Hopefully she’ll see the message I’m getting across, and put some thought into it. I only hope that it will help her find herself and win for her district.

The Mayhem Continues

I woke up on the top branch of the tree I climbed to get away from the tsunami. Marvin lay across my torso sleeping.

“Hey, Marvin, wake up.” I whispered, rubbing on his back.

He picked up his head, and blinked his sleepy eyes awake, then looked up at me with a silly, sloth smile. I laughed.

“We should start heading home,” I stated.

Marvin wrapped his arms around my neck and held onto me as I climbed down the tree to the still-muddy ground below.

The tsunami had carried me out of my well-known territory, and I had no idea where we were. I thought a minute of what to do.

“Well the tsunami came from that way,” I thought aloud as I pointed in front of me, “So it carried us this way.” I turned around and pointed in the opposite direction. “So that means that home is in the direction the tsunami came from.” I said matter-of-factly, and started walking in that direction.

After about two hundred yards, I found the tree and cavern that for the past weeks I have called “home”.

“Finally,” I said as I walked over to the tree, threw my bag on the ground, and sat myself at the base of the tree. Marvin climbed up to a lower branch, where he dangled peacefully and gleefully.

It was silent for a few seconds until a heard a faint sound near me, though I couldn’t quite identify what it was. I looked around in search of the thing that made the sound, and out of the corner of my eye I saw something small and brightly colored. I turned my attention to it to see better what it was.

“Ahh!” I screamed.

It was a frog; but not just any frog- a poison-dart frog, whose venom can kill. It was bright blue with black spots all over its back. It had a kind of slimy look to it that made it glisten in the light. It seemed to be glaring at me as if I were the intruder.

I got up and slowly backed away.

“It’s okay,” I told myself, “It’s just one little froggy.”

Then, too coincidentally, another three hopped out of the brush and sat next to the first one.

“Okay,” I thought out loud, “Froggy has friends.”

I continued backing away slowly, until my right heel knocked into a tree root, and I fell onto my back with a large, painful THUD.

My head fell to the left and when I opened my eyes, there were at least ten staring me in the face. My eyes widened and my heart started beating hard inside my chest. I took slow, quiet, shallow breaths, as if being silent would blind them and they wouldn’t see me.

Then I felt something land on my arm, and I knew at once what it was. I looked down and the bright blue, spotted frog was sitting on my left forearm. Just one bite and I would be dead.

“Well, I’d really love to stay, but it looks like I’ll be visiting my sister for a while.” I said to no one in particular. “Goodbye.”

Death by frog, I thought, what a pitiful way to die.

The Gamemakers Enter the Games

I was asleep under my tree, dreaming about running through my woods back home; the peaceful sound of dry, crisp leaves crunching underneath my feet, the whistle of birds singing to each other. Lilly was there; we were running together. We were laughing and talking about nothing in specific, when all of a sudden, a tree branch whacked me in my right cheek, again and again, over and over.

And that’s when I woke up to a three-toed sloth sitting on my stomach, and patting my face.

“What the…” I said.

The air felt very moist, and there were little dew droplets lingering in the air that seemed to fall out of nowhere.

He slowly drew his arm back and gestured behind him. I followed his arm, and looked past him to see a giant wave of a tsunami heading right towards me.

My eyes widened and felt as though they would pop out of my skull. My heart started pounding, and my body started shaking with fear.

I grabbed my survival bag, unzipped it, quickly but gently snatched up my new pet sloth, put him in the largest pocket, threw the bag on my back, and darted away from the nearing tsunami, the sloth hugging my neck to insure he stay put.

I was running as fast as I could. My heart was racing and my breath was shortening the more I ran. The wave was catching up to me, faster and faster; threatening to swallow me up at any second. I could feel my feet pounding the softening ground. The air around me was thick and wet and smelled like rain and ocean water. I could feel the misty spray on my back as the waves caught up to me, and then they engulfed me, submerging me under the waves. It reminded me of going body-surfing, missing a wave, and getting suctioned deep into the water until the wave draws back into the ocean; except this was not the kind of wave that draws back into the ocean, it just destroys and kills everything in its path.

Then, the miracle of the human species took place- our buoyancy- and I found myself floating back to the surface. When I reached the top, I took a strong, loud, gasp for air, then started coughing uncontrollably, trying to rid my lungs of water.

Well, Lilly, I tried to telepathize to my older sister, looking down at me from heaven, not long now.

That’s when I saw a tree in front of me, with a branch that seemed to be just in my reach. When it approached, a grabbed it and held on with everything inside me, just dangling there until the wave died down, or I found enough strength to climb- whichever came first.

“Hang in there, Marvin!” I screamed over the deafening rush of waves to the sloth on my back.

Marvin, I like that. I’m going to call him Marvin from now on, I thought to myself.

After about a minute I found the strength in me to climb. I put my left foot on a lower branch on the left side of the tree, and tried to put my weight on it. Luckily, it held, although it was quite slippery from the splash from the waters rushing below.

“Are you quite satisfied, Gamemakers?” I screamed at the sky.

Somehow, though, I managed to climb to a higher branch, where I sat and waited for the tsunami to pass.

A Silver Parachute

I have been very distracted in my performances lately, as I have grown quite homesick. I miss all of my friends and my family (what’s left of my family. With my missing dad, and my late sister, it’s really only my mom). I feel so sorrow for my mom; it’s very unfortunate that our family has had two tributes, one of which did not make it back, the other still awaiting her destiny. I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for her, not just both daughters being tributes, but being all alone on top of it all.

But most of all, I miss Lilly. She was everything I wanted to be and more; seemingly perfect. Everyone loved her. There was something in her smile that could just brighten the whole world, like if she was happy so was everyone else. Her eyes always smiled, even if she was crying. There was such a naturally happy vibe that came out of her like a waterfall, and made you question all of the world’s problems. People say I have her sparkly, striking blue eyes, but mine lack the inner-smile that made hers even more vibrant. I look like her in so many ways, but I cannot do her beauty justice because most of it lied within. Why she had to die, I will never know, but I keep telling myself it was because she was too good of a person; too pure for our ugly world; that she was such an angel that she was just merely going back home. I miss everything about her, and long to see her again. For all I know, I might be closer than I think.

I recently received a silver parachute, something sent to me from a sponsor. I was very excited and pleased just from receiving something from the outside world, knowing that there were still people out there that were supporting me. When my quaking hands opened it, inside lay a shiny, metallic, video camera, with a note instructing me to film a video diary back home to someone I miss.

“Can I send it to heaven?” I thought out loud.

Hey! They’re giving you the opportunity to communicate with the outside world; they’re doing you a favor! No need to be bitter! What would Lilly say about that?, I thought.

And with that, I thought about what I wanted to say, and filmed.

First Night of the Hunger Games!

BAM!

The first canon sounded; one tribute dead.

BAM!

Two.

BAM!

Three.

BAM!

Four.

Then silence; four tributes dead.

I looked to the sky as they showed the slides of the faces of the passed tributes. One was from my district. I was now the only one from my district left in the games. I felt like an endangered species; the last of my kind.

I decided to find a place to spend the night before it got too late. Quickly, and quietly, I crept through the rainforest trying to find a good spot that would cover me for the night.

I saw a few places that could have worked, but they weren’t enough coverage to keep me from being killed in my sleep.

Eventually I came across a ditch surrounded by shrubbery. I jumped down inside to take a better look, and when I did, I knew it was the perfect place.

There was a tree at the edge of it, and there were rocks casting shadows at the base of the tree. The one side was kind of like a cave, next to the tree, so that there was even more shadow at that side of the tree’s base.

I threw my survival bag down next to the tree, and started to set up what would from now on be my “home”.

Some people were making alliances, but I didn’t want to make any friends that I’d have to kill later. After all, there can only be one winner; everyone else is dead. I know how it feels to lose a loved one to the hunger games better than most, and I wasn’t about to set myself up for that again.

I didn’t even want to be reminded of that; of what I went through all those years ago. It was a dark period of my life. I’ve been spending every second of every day since then trying to forget it, but it always seems to sliver its way back in.

When everything was put into its place, the sky began to get dark, and I began to find my sleeping spot at the shadowy part of the base of the tree. The ground was damp beneath me, along with the bark of the tree. The air was thick, humid, and musky, and smelled of fresh rain after a storm. There was a slight breeze blowing, making a light, whooshing, white-noise ring in the back of my mind, and tickling my ears. I seemed so far away from the action, and everything seemed so peaceful. The struggles at hand seemed so distant and so unimportant at that moment, and I almost felt at home.

Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Eightieth Hunger Games begin!

            I felt the platform rise, beneath my feet, painstakingly slowly; presenting me to my death.

            And that’s when I felt it; surging through my veins, pounding in my head, and invading my thoughts: Fear; Panic.

            There was no way out now. There was nothing I could do about it. What I had been waiting for, and training for, for countless weeks, was now here.

            When I go to the top, my new enemies were standing all around me, as we all stood surrounding the supplies. I scanned my surroundings. There were beaches, and waterfalls, and a tropical rainforest. I could smell the seawater, and the dampness that lingered in the air and hung around me like a sloth.

            The sixty second countdown began.

            “60, 59, 58, 57…” I heard the automated voice say.

            The dreaded moment was less than a minute away.

            I began to look for supplies and tools and weapons among the things in front of us.

            “50,”

            No, I thought, No weapons. I’m not going to kill anybody; I can’t kill anybody. I’ll let them die from natural causes.

            But I need something to hunt with.

            But I can’t kill an innocent animal! I can eat fruit and plant-life instead.

            “40,”

            But I need something for self-defense. I don’t have to use it, but I seem like more of a threat if I have it just in case.

            “30”

            The seconds felt like years, as they counted down and I waited with nervous anticipation; but at the same time they seemed to go all too fast, as I clung to what might be my last moments.

            “20”

            I felt my pin. I closed my eyes and turned my head toward the sky.

            “Lilly, be with me,” I mouthed over and over again.

            My body shook with fear, but I tried to contain it as I got my head back in the game.

            I tried to focus on something else to get my mind off of the fear.

            “10”

            I’ll get a survival bag, and bolt toward the rainforest. Maybe it’ll come with some sort of knife that I can use until I get some sort of weapon from a passed tribute.

            “3, 2, 1.”

            I got the bag and bolted.

            To my surprise I made it into the forest alive.

            Every new second was a blessing.

            I cherished the fact that I was alive.

Tribute Token

As I stood in the empty room, awaiting my friends and family, my brain began to panic, like being dragged by the foot under deep water, only a number of seconds until I drown.

The first one to visit me was Grace. She opened the door and ran inside and hugged me. She was crying hysterically. I hugged her back, not crying, trying my best to stay strong. I was looking for something– anything that would give me a sliver of hope, some source of positivity in the midst of this despair.

When I found it, I pulled her away, and looked her deep in her tear-stained eyes.

“Hey, I’m not dead yet.” I said calmly. A lot more calmly than I felt.

She smiled a little and sniffed back more tears.

“I’ve known you as long as I can remember. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She said.

I hugged her and rubbed her back comfortingly, as if washing the problems off.

“Stay strong. If not for yourself, do it for me.” I said.

“I promise,” she replied.

And that’s when the door opened and they took her away.

Now was my mom’s turn. She ran in also, crying uncontrolably.

“Not again! This can’t be happening to me again!” She said and hugged me with all the strength she had.

“I brought you a Tribute Token,” she said through her tears.

She backed away to pull something out of her pocket. It was a small bronze-colored item that looked like a pin.

I took a closer look and held it in my hand. It was a lilly flower with a circle of vines around it like a halo. It was beautiful, like seeing the sun for the first time.

“In her honor.” she said smiling for the first time since she came into the room.

I rubbed the smooth, cool surface, and thought of my sister. Her beautiful, flowing brown hair, and stunning, kind blue eyes; the pretty face I will never see again.

That’s when the first tear rolled down my cheek.

I loved my sister, and the Hunger Games took her away from me.

And I will do whatever it takes to do what she never could:

Win and, more importantly, survive.

The Tributes Are Announced

“Delilah Carter.” Harper Hayes says into the microphone.

My heart stopped, and I got light-headed. It can’t be me, I thought, I must have heard her wrong. I waited a few moments. No one else moved.

The longer the silence continues, the more my heart starts to pound, harder and harder inside my chest, and the fainter I feel.

“Delilah Carter?” Harper repeated.

I took a slow, painful, deep breath, and swallowed hard. I began to move toward the front, and slowly, all eyes turned to me. My face got red hot, and my palms were sweaty.

This can’t be happening, I thought, I’m dreaming. I’m going to wake up any second now. I pushed a strand of hair out of my face, and looked at the ground, not making eye contact with anybody. I could tell they were relieved it was not them. I would be too if I were them. But I’m not.

I’m a tribute.

If I don’t make it out of this, My mom will be by herself. My dad just disappeared one day, and he hasn’t come back since. My older sister, Lilly, was selected as a tribute, and didn’t make it out. I’m the only one left for her, and if something happened to me, she’d be in trouble.

When I got up to the stage, I looked out to the crowd, trying to find my best friend, Grace. She had a depressed expression on her face, and she looked like she was struggling to hold back tears.

Then it was time to call the second tribute’s name. She was someone I hadn’t met before. I guess that’s better for me, because it would be easier to win that way.

“Good Luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” Harper finished.

And the reaping was over.

I was a tribute.