Confusion is a train that’s lost its tracks; otherwise known as my mind, as it is full of one hundred different thoughts at this moment in time. “What could I possibly send to Gerome Washingbeard the VII that will help him survive these deadly games?” I said to myself, deep in thought. “Oh, I got it! I will send him a few of the calming leaves from my backyard.” They are known to grow only in district 10, and to heal any type of scrape, broken bone, discomfort, or anything when wrapped around the wound. Gerome will definitely be seeing some battles in the next day or two, considering who the gamemakers are this year, and what they are capable of doing. If they decide to have a feast, it will definitely attract Gerome; he is one for the food because of how much of a shortage we have right now here in district 10.

Walking through the green, untrimmed grass in my backyard tickles my bruised feet. All of the work with the animals over the years has caused me to have blisters everywhere possible, including my heels and toes. I swiftly walk over to the bush that grows the vibrant orange calming leaves. Rummaging through the overgrown bush, I find the roundest, thickest, most colorful leaves I can reach. “One, two, three, four, five.” I hum to myself. Just enough to last him a few days, considering the games will be over once the gamemakers get a handle on it. Wrapping them in a moist cloth, I tuck them into my bag, and walk to the local post office.

When I drop it off and tell the mailman that it is for a tribute in the Hunger Games, he drops it down a shoot, which triggers my feet to rush me back home. Adjusting the television wires takes a little while, since I do not use it unless the games are on. Right when the screen flickers from black to colors, I see the silver parachute float calmly onto Gerome’s sleepy chest. He wakes happily and smiles to the sky when he finds what’s inside. “Thank you,” he mouths.

Croaks and screams filled my muffled eardrums as I rested in the treetops nearest to the ocean. Looking down was a rush of chaos and tributes mourning to survive, but looking up was a breath of fresh air and a sight of clear sky. The vibrant blue tide of poison dart frogs engulfed the bright green grass.  I closed my eyes, trying to picture the wild animal book at my house that I used to read every night, and the page about the poison dart frogs. “Think Ella think,” I whispered softly to myself. Finally, my mind clicked and I remembered that although the frogs were mighty fast on land, they drown quickly and helplessly in bodies of water, no matter what the size. Sizing up the distance from my tree to the welcoming clear water, I realized that if I jumped with all of my power, I could make it safely into the ocean.

Grabbing my backpack, I realized that having all of this extra weight on me would not help when I was trying to glide into the water. I rummaged through the worn-out bag and grabbed the sleeping bag before I dropped the rest of the stuff onto the tree branch just to leave it there when I jump. “This will have to do, I can sleep on the ground for all I care.” I assured myself. Unfolding the sleeping bag, I raised it above my head, closed my eyes, and jumped just like a bird taking its first flight out of the nest. When I opened my salty eyes, I was soaring over all of the tributes and all of the deadly frogs, but in a second, they were only distant memories. Once I felt that I was far enough off of the island, I started to drop down swiftly. Soon after I realized that something small was latching onto my thigh. When I unwillingly looked down to my left leg, my heart dropped to my stomach when I saw the sight of a bright blue, beautifully poisonous dart frog.

My heavy bruised head turned like a crane as the steady rushing water sound got louder and louder. As my vision cleared, I saw the breath-taking sight of a large tsunami heading straight for the island from far in the ocean, arriving very quickly. I turned and bolted for the tallest and sturdiest tree I could find. I violently grabbed my heavy worn out backpack off the hot sandy beach, and started to feel the powerful water hurdling towards me. The ground started to tremble and shake, like it was as nervous as I was. My feet knew what to do, but my mind was racing in five hundred different directions.

When I got half way up the nearest tree, the huge wave hit the trunk and the strong roots started to snap loudly. I could hear the faint screams of innocent tributes getting carried away into the hungry ocean. My tree started to wobble, so as a reflex, I jumped to the nearest tree, praying that it would be study enough to withstand my weight and still not fall over with the water pounding angrily at it’s trunk. When I hit the rough bark, I felt a hand pull me safely onto a branch. Before I could see who the gentle, caring tribute was, they were sliding down the tree to land on a branch a few twigs down. The tsunami backed away, looking like a whimpering dog that had given up on trying to get food off of the kitchen table. Four cannons fired, and I sighed a long, heavy breath of relief that I was not one of them. I looked up into the cloudless sky, my eyes squinting; I could almost see the gamemakers smirking to themselves as they had just put on an amazing show for the citizens of the capital. I felt like punching the tree; I was not going to be a piece in this game anymore. It was time to show these gamemakers that they can’t control me not matter how much they might try.

The first thing I thought about after escaping the mass killing at the cornucopia was where I was going to spend the night. In a rush to stay hidden, I slipped under the nearest canopy of damp leaves and found myself in a small cave. Opening my new backpack, I picked out the first thing that fell into my sweaty, shaky hands; a sleeping bag. From watching previous hunger games, I learned that it was meant for sleeping in the trees, but decided that I would stay in the cave for the night and save the bag for another day; that is if I make it to see another day.

The second I heard the leaves crunching outside of the cave, I violently threw myself against the cold rock and pulled my backpack with me to try and hide from the wandering tribute. Over and over, he sang to himself, assuring that he would kill and see blood in the next hour. My breathing was in fast, small breaths, as I couldn’t get a full one out without whining in nervousness. Once the voice got softer and farther away, I relaxed a bit, but quietly assured myself that that was the last time I would be as scared as I just was. I continued rummaging through my bag until I found a small blanket and some nuts. Using my hands as a pillow, I layed down and closed my eyes, trying to convince myself that I would be home soon enough.  Four cannons sounded, and I winced at the noise. Peeking my head out of the cave for just a second, I saw the face of an innocent, poor, young boy in the cloudless sky. As I closed my eyes on the hard ground, I heard the faint noise of a camera focusing, and automatically knew that I was being broadcasted on live television. I felt one warm tear roll down my face, and into my mouth. I had to toughen up to win, and I had to do it fast.

I felt like a butterfly wrapped in a cacoon because my suit was so tight. I had just put it on and I was already sweating through it. Why was it so hot in this room? Was it because I had been breathing so heavily and fast? Before I knew it I was pushed into a round glass pod and was shot up through a long tube.  20 seconds had gone by and I was still going up. Where was I going? It was starting to get foggy and hot and I was beginning to have trouble breathing. From what I remember on warm days back in district 10, it would get so hot that I would begin to have trouble breathing. Another 10 seconds went by and it started to get so bright that I felt like I was standing on the sun. Finally, the pod came to a stop and I was facing the other tributes with a large cornucopia in the middle of the tropical arena.

It smelled like flowers and fresh salt water. As I glanced around and studied the colorful arena, my body calmed down and my breathing steadied. My sweaty palm wiped the glass to try and clear away the fog. A loud, sturdy voice came an invisible loud speaker and started counting down from 10, 9, 8, 7…. my heart was beating so fast I felt that my whole body was shaking. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BANG! The pod opened and my feet took me straight to the cornucopia. My brain didn’t know what to do, but my legs surely did. I shot towards the bottled water and also took a bag filled with small gadgets to help stay alive. Once my hands were full, I slipped away quietly from the mass killing and bolted for the trees. When I turned around, there were a few dead and twitching bodies on the ground; I winced at the sight. I didn’t know what my strategy for staying alive would be, all I knew was that I would not kill anyone on purpose.

I took long deep breaths as I waited for the ancient door to creak open. I had been waiting in the goodbye room for about 20 minutes with no sign whatsoever that my parents would be coming. When I saw their heartbroken faces after I had been chosen, I almost immediately knew that they couldn’t stand to see me again without bursting into tears like water behind a broken dam.

My eyes wandered over to the wooden door, as it slowly opened, just to show my my father. His eyes were droopy from crying, and he looked as though he was 100 years old. As he slowly walked over to me, I saw something shimmering between his bony, pale hands. I burst into tears as I realized what it was; my mother’s hairpin. It glimmered in his hands as he opened them to let me glance at it. He looked into my bloodshot eyes, and we both knew that the other wouldn’t be able to say anything without crying, again. Slowly, he trudged behind me and carefully placed the delicate pin onto my messy bun. It was beautiful; it had a fully bloomed yellow sunflower in the middle surrounded by mini pearls and diamonds. It reminded me of better times, when my mother and I would play dress up and she would let me wear her beloved hair pin. We would prance and gallop around the house, acting like we were each princesses of the country. I smiled just thinking that a piece of my mother would be there with me when I was fighting in the games. When I looked up at my father, he was smiling too. No words were needed, we both knew that I would be home soon. We hugged, and he he slowly walked towards the open door. Two guards were standing in the doorway, signaling that our time was almost up. It smelled faintly like salt water, and I realized that one small tear had rushed down my face, and was hiding under my nose. I closed my eyes and turned away as my father closed the door behind him; I didn’t want him to loose faith in me when he realized that I was weak. My hand creeped up and felt the bumpy pin above my bun. I took it out and squeezed it between my sweaty palms. I was going to win this deadly game, and I was going to come home heroically.

I woke up with what felt like a butterfly fluttering around inside of me.  Today was the day where I would find out whether I would be participating in the annual Hunger Games. I could hear the other kids from district 10 playing outside with no worries whatsoever. I looked down to see my hands trembling like an earthquake was about to hit. When I looked outside, I saw the game makers walking to every house and pulling the kids down to the place where the reaping would be held. Five houses away, four, three, two. Quickly, I threw on my nicest dress and put my hair up in a tight bun, but shook when I heard a loud pounding on the front door. Slowly and calmly I walked towards the noise but was abruptly pulled outside and towards the high podium when I opened the door. I looked over and saw the camera that was broadcasting the reaping all the way to the capitol. By then the creases in my hands were each individual rivers, my hair was falling out of its bun, I was just a mess waiting to hear my future. My mother and father were racing down, hoping to hear the names. Harper Hayes reached into the big glass bowl, picking out the girl first. I thought about my home, my family, everything. Time slowed down, and the only thing I heard was Ella Moe. Ella Moe is my name. I am going to the Hunger Games, and now my life is on the line.  I worried about my mother, when she is home with my father, will he take care of her? I worried about the animals and the town, because not much income is arriving anymore. I worried about my brother, oh Timothy. He is only 2 years old and it was my job to take care of him. What is going to happen? Am I going to make it home alive, or am i going to die trying?

All I heard was Harper’s voice on the microphone, telling me what an honor it was to fight to the death just to show everyone not to mess with the capital.  My heart was pounding out of my chest as I walked up to the stage. She shot up my hand and held it up high as she whispered loudly in my ear and told me to look happy or the other candidates would think of me as weak. Weak was the last thing I wanted to be called, so I put the biggest, fake smile on my face and waved to everyone around me. I could smell Harper’s strong, flowery perfume and began to feel unconscious after standing next to her for too long. I made eye contact with my mother and she gave me a look of confidence, as if she already knew that I was going to win. I felt a smile scurry across my face when I saw Timothy waving at me and trying to get my attention. At least he didn’t know what was going on. After the boy was called, I was taken to a long train, without even being able to say goodbye. It was time to train, and it was time to fight.