My Hunger GamesAs the platform starts to rise into the suffocating tube, I take a deep breath. I actually feel strangely calm. I'm rising into the cause of these past weeks's stress. I'm rising to my death and I feel calm. That must say a lot about my personality. In this dark, never-ending tunnel of death, I reflect upon my life. Coming from District 11, I wasn't raised in luxury, but my life wasn't exactly great either.My Hunger Games in Short Stories More Like This
As a young girl, I climbed my share of trees. My small frame allowed me to hide in the shadows of upper branches. I have only peaceful memories of the orchards. I remember chasing my brother and friends through the infinite rows of trees, trying at all costs to avoid getting caught. Feeling the sweet-scented wind flying through my hair, the sense of joy at being fast enough to evade my brother. I even relish the sword fights with twigs or broken branches.
I feel a pang of longing upon entering the arena. Just seeing the sun casting beams of light across this forsaken place. Or heari