I watch Anne Foyer look around frantically at the burst of the cannon, announcing another tribute death; my eyes are glued to the black-and-white screen. She looks confused, probably wondering why she is still there in the arena. After barely surviving from the deadly attack by the Gamemakers-Poison Dart Frogs-I honestly don’t blame her for being uneasy.

I sit there and gaze at the screen; she has unwanted sorrow and anxiety written across her face as she sets up camp for the night. An idea flashes into my head, and I quickly dial the Gamemaker hotline that comes across the bottom of the staticky 15-inch screen every half hour. After an automated voice picks up and I press seven on my house telephone, I wait to the sound of classical music until a real person finally comes on the line. I tell them that a specific gift that should be sent to “Anne Foyer” (which I had to repeat four times until they finally understood) in the arena and they finally mumbled an agreement. A large bill will be sent to my house for sending it, but I don’t care. I’ll use up all of my piggy bank money if I have to. I just want her to win.

About twenty minutes later, invisible cameras on the live TV shoot up towards the sky, where a silky silver parachute comes gliding down with a little box attached with fine string. Although I am a District eleven citizen and she’s from District two, I’ve been watching her throughout the entire 80^th Hunger Games. She reminds me of my older sister, Lily, who died three years ago in the Games. I miss her more than anything and Anne has a similar presence to her, bringing back the wanted memories. I sit on the edge of my seat, my fingernails digging into the arms of the old wooden chair. Her eyes light up as she sees the box flying towards her and she reaches up, letting it land lightly in the palm of her hand. She closes her fingers around it and then starts to gingerly open it, looking cautiously around every few seconds to make sure that she is still alone. The parachute falls to the ground as the string is separated, the light breeze gently pulling it away towards a lush palm tree. She slowly holds up a thin silver chain with a little crystal heart that represents hope in Panem. She takes no part in hiding her surprise. Happiness erupts across her face and I know that she understands that she has support from everyone, not just people from her hometown due to the small note card announcing that I sent it from eleven. I watch as she looks up towards the artificial sunset, smiling, and whispers “thank you”. All I do is smile back and say to the screen “no problem” in a quiet voice that echoes throughout the empty house.

My eyes are closed as the scorching sun beats down on me up on the rocky mountain ledge. I feel the slightest touch on my lower arm and I go to swat it. My fingers catch on something that is unexpectedly alive and my eyelids fly open. As I jump up, my knife automatically slashes deep into a small creature about one inch in size. I watch it drop to the ground, hearing the tiniest thud. Realization kicks in and I slowly look up, afraid to see what I will find next. Dread fills up in me like a kettle of boiling water. I start to gape as I look around at what seems to be thousands of these brilliant colored… frogs?

There were so many of them, just sitting there in the lush trees and on the rocky terrain around me. I realize now that they are called ‘Poison Dart Frogs’ and a jet of fear and adrenaline runs through me. What should I do? If I try to kill them with my knives, they will probably attack me all at once and give me an instantaneous death before I can even get a chance to regret my decision. I rake my brain for a logical thing to do, but I am filled with such panic that I just stand there, looking around frantically. My ankle is still desperately injured from the deadly tsunami and I managed to make a crutch out of tree branches and rope to support myself. Anger rushes into me for leaving my crutch and pack, with all of my supplies, in the shallow cave about ten meters away from where I am currently standing. Taking in a deep breath, I mutter, “You can do this” and my legs take off at high speed toward the murky cave.

As I grab my pack and take a sharp turn toward the opposite direction, I feel my left foot slip out from under me just the slightest bit. I stumble, sending an intense burst of pain up my leg and I hear snap in my ankle. Tears well up in my eyes from the throbbing and I don’t even take the time to wipe them away. All I do is blink rapidly until I can see somewhat clearly again as I do a tuck and roll out of the cave, which is currently overflowing with poisonous frogs. I feel them start to latch themselves onto me, trying so desperately to take away my life. Noting the far drop, maybe 100 feet or so, I tighten my pack’s straps and launch myself into an airborne somersault, propelling myself off the edge of the mountain. Halfway down, the tree’s foliage get caught on me, slowing my fall. I land in a small clearing on my back, a sharp pain shooting down my spine. Dizziness overwhelms me as I stand up and stagger to a tree. Somehow, I climb up it to a high branch and collapse in the protection of the bright leaves. I notice that there are only two of these frogs left as far as I can see, clinging to the tree that I got caught in on the way down. Hearing a distant cannon shot of someone’s death, I barely hear myself whisper “thank you” as I fall into a deep and hazardous sleep.

I hear the smallest little click and I freeze, my whole body tensing up. I feel my fingers creep slowly across the seam of my leather coat, stopping right over the pocket where my sheath of knives is tucked away. I am alone again, since my ally Jasmine Benton was killed by a poisonous beetle that bit her and made her suffer a long, agonizing death in my arms.  It has made me realize how important survival is. Being alone means that I only have one pair of eyes instead of the two that I so desperately want once again. Taking a panoramic gaze around me from up in the lush green tree reassures me that I am alone. Or am I? That’s when I hear another noise, but this time I can tell it is coming from the Northeast, facing the opposite way. After taking a look behind me, my eyes become glued to what practically makes me fall out of my 80 foot-high tree.

A wall of water is rushing straight at me, sucking in everything that it crashes into like a vacuum. I’ve heard stories about these things called tsunamis before, but I had never seen one. Although it is far away, maybe ten miles or so, I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that it will be on top of me, sucking me into its depths before I know it. My head screams to run, but the rest of me is in shock. A rustle from the tree next to me snaps me back into reality and I slip and fall from my branch. Trying to grab onto the branches of the passing trees, I get a dozen bleeding cuts and scratches. Luckily, I had my camouflage backpack on with all of my supplies and it helped break my 80 foot drop from the tree. Hearing a sickening crunch and feeling a blinding pain in my right ankle sends black spots into my eyes, blocking my vision with a wall of darkness. Blindly, I get up and start to limp as fast as I can towards the southwestern part of the land, away from this deadly tsunami that I know will bring me an instantaneous death.

Finally, my brain starts to clear of its dense fog as I force myself into a light, painful jog. I mumble to myself, “Think Juniper… think!” as I approach a clearing in the thick jungle. I hurry towards it and stop to gasp a few precious breaths of air and I look up and gaze at the mountains surrounding me. A light bulb flashes into my head and I start to run as fast as my legs will take me, ignoring the severe pain and the feeling of the earth starting to emit a deep, low rumble. I approach a wall of rock and I fumble around my coat and take out two of my strongest and toughest knives. I force them into the small cracks in the terrain, pulling myself up with all of my strength, my body using all of its strength and energy. Right now, all I care about is survival. Finally, I reach a ledge that is fairly large and extremely high up and I give one last push with my shaky arms and tumble head over heels onto it. I force myself to not look down as I quickly scurry on my hands and knees over to a shallow cave facing towards the southern part of the arena, crawling into it. My ears are screaming with the sound of the approaching tsunami, the rushing water taunting me. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes as tightly as I can, grasping my pack in between my knees and torso. A wall of water slams itself into the cave, knocking me down onto my back, a whirlpool of water, tossing me around. A few seconds later, I open my eyes to see a bright, clear blue sky through the blurry waves of water. My lungs are filled with water as I give one last sputtering breath before I completely black out, fainting into the deepest nightmares of what the future holds for me.

This message is intended to be sent to my mother. I miss her more than any other person in the world. She is my only family member that I have ever known and she is always there by my side no matter what happens. Taking care of me, working for the smallest scrape of money to get dinner on the table and being  such an amazing role model were more than any child could ask for. If I fell, she helped me up. If I cried, she would wipe away my tears. If I needed her, she would already be by my side.

When I saw this silver parachute come down, I thought I was imagining it. Could I really be getting something from my sponsors? Was it food, water, a weapon, something to help me survive longer? When I unwrapped the silky parachute, I saw the small mechanical device and was entirely confused. Was that a camera? I picked it up and held it in the palm of my hand, looking at its smooth metal and silver buttons. I had never used such a delicate piece of technology before. Being poor kept me from looking at one of these devices at the small shop in town, let alone use one. Then I became angry, realizing that this was pointless. I had no idea what a little video camera would do to keep me alive. After some pacing, frustration and deep thought, realization burst into my head. It turned out that this gift actually had more potential than what I originally thought. I could send someone a message, a message that could be seen and heard by anyone I want. That’s when a grin spread across my face and I knew then that I couldn’t have gotten a better gift. After figuring out how to use this device, I immediately started to record a message that would be sent to a whole different world, back to harsh reality and my innocent mother.

The smallest little snap in the brush made my instincts go crazy. The first knife I grabbed was flicked out of its case and in my hand as fast as my reflexes would let me. I did a slow 360 degree turn and scanned the dirt floor all the way up to the tree tops high above me. Then I heard it again. Snap! This time, I can tell it is coming from my left and I automatically slash my knife, my adrenaline pumping through my veins. My breath comes out in a long, heavy sigh when I hear a rustling and see a bright, rainbow bird up in a tree. After the silence, it snaps off a small branch with its beak to eat bright green leaves off of it. Sneaking down the path, I waited patiently for a while before throwing the knife with all of my force at the bird and it falls, dead, to the ground. After cleaning and stashing it away, I turn 90 degrees away from the clearing and continue down the path facing northwest, parallel to the location of the cornucopia. Noting that the artificial sun had started to set down into the beautiful orange and pink clouds, I headed toward the thicker part of the jungle. Maybe it was time to call it a night.

After scaling up a lush tree, I heard the smallest whisper… ”Hey, hey you.”  I jumped out of my skin and looked around. At first, I thought I had imagined it and was going insane. That was until my gaze finally laid upon a dark shadow about three branches up in the tree. I took out a knife and held it in my sweaty palm. When the person swung to the branch right above me, I slashed out my knife toward them but their reflexes took them back a branch, which blocked them from my wild swing. Warily, they put their hand up and quickly said, “Wait, I don’t want to hurt you. I want to offer an alliance. It would be you and me, what do you say?” I study her for a minute as she climbs back down. Why all of a sudden does she ask me? Now, I recognized her from training, the one who I would sometimes work with. I assumed that was why she asked me. She moved back down to the branch that she was on before I had my fit. “Come up here, it is a barrier of leaves. No one can see us… we’ll be safer. I’m sorry, but I never caught your name.” I slowly climb up the tree and sit next to her but with enough distance to protect myself. “Juniper… Juniper Stowe. District 11”, I mumble quietly. “Cool, nice to meet you Juniper. I am Jasmine Benton, district 12. I have an idea on what we should do”. She started to explain a brilliant plan as I cleaned my knives, one by one, until all seven of them are blindingly shiny. I tucked them back into their case and folded it up, putting the whole thing into my small camouflage backpack. After she finished her plan, she waited and looked at me in silence, waiting for a response. I couldn’t help but marvel over all of those carefully thought-out words and I gave her a quick yet reassuring grin. We worked all night, making a deadly, poisonous contraption that anyone who passes will have to suffer a painful death until their last breath.

At the first rays of daylight, Jasmine talked to me again for the first time since last night. “Now, we wait.” she says with a sadistic grin. I respond with a smile and quietly say, “I feel bad for the sorry tribute that crosses our path. We are unstoppable.”

The jerk of the worn metal plate that I am positioned on startles me, and all I can see is darkness as if it were a moonless night. Soon, it starts to slowly get brighter above me as I look up and note the smallest sliver of daylight. I look down at my feet, wondering what is ahead of me, how this nightmare is going to begin and end. All of a sudden, there is an explosion of light that burns my eyes and I find myself squinting. My heart is racing and my breathing is shallow and quick. I will myself not to trip and fall, knowing my clumsiness could cost me my life. After a few seconds, I steady myself and try to look around although my vision is still blurry. My mind fills with wonder and I can’t help thinking about what the theme will be this year of the Capitol’s show. When my eyes finally adjust to the artificial sunlight, what I see fills me with a sense of surprise, dread, and a sort of sick humor.

This unexpected world around me is beautiful. A tropical paradise surrounds me, and I almost let out a laugh. The lush trees whispering in the crisp wind, an overwhelmingly clear ocean lapping at white sand, and dozens of volcanoes tightly knitted into vast mountains all made me wonder if this is even real.  My eyes get stuck on the massive, golden cornucopia that is overflowing with supplies, food and weapons. Then realization suddenly hits me with such a strong force that I almost feel my feet slip out from under me. I retain that this whole world is fake, man-made, a way to make the plot of the Capitol’s story even more exciting. I slowly take a panoramic gaze around at my twenty-three enemies. Some look afraid and others are in a daze as they look around at this paradise. The last half dozen or so have a look of savagery and aggressiveness in their eyes, their faces showing their readiness to spill the blood of their fellow people. A shiver runs down my spine as I look away from them. I can practically feel them drink up my fear, taking it to their advantage. I suddenly comprehend that I have no true plan on what to do after these few precious seconds are polished off. Where do I go? How do I live? Do I even have a chance of survival?

Too soon, the gong rings as loud and clear as a church bell on a Sunday morning and I find myself running blindly towards the cornucopia. I am praying that my slim chance of survival will burst into appearance as I frantically grasp for hope, endurance, and a good plan.

The room is wavering around me like a stone skimmed across water. Slowly stumbling across the air-conditioned room, I feel myself collapse on a couch made up of the softest red velvet you can imagine. It feels like somebody took a vacuum and sucked the life and emotion out of me. After about thirty seconds, I gradually sit up and gaze around the room. My eyes are stuck on the crystal chandelier that looks so of out of place here in District 11, where most of us are wondering half of the time if we are going to be having supper that evening. I try to relax a bit, but muscles felt as tight as a taut rope. Suddenly I realize that all I really remember is the rough security guard throwing me in here like a rag doll, leaving me sprawled across the floor. Soon after, there is a light knock on the door, making me jump, but I softly whisper, “Come in”. Whoever it was surprisingly heard me, opening the slightly creaky door.

My mother walks in with a grim face, trying to not make it so obvious that she is hiding her emotions with all of her strength. I stand up and stride over to her, pulling her into my arms for what may be our last embrace. She weeps on my shoulder, knowing that I only have a one in a chance of twenty four in this war; a war for amusement to see innocent children die. I let go of her and take her cool hand, pulling her over to the couch. Suddenly my mother seems so full of fear that I can even see it in her eyes. This scares me, knowing that if I die, she will be all alone in this vast world.

She slowly reaches towards her pocket, pulling out an anklet made up of hand-woven corn stalks. It seems to be made up of an impossible pattern, with such fine details that make your eyes think that it isn’t even real. My great-great grandmother made this beautiful item, and it has always been passed down throughout the family at a time that is felt to be right. I give my mother a soft kiss on the cheek, taking the bracelet and holding it tight in my hand. Just then, before I can even give my mother one last hug, the door slams open with a force to crush someone and three men walk in, and one grabs my mother’s arm to pull her away, and I feel her hand slipping out of mine. Her eyes give me a look of sorrow, love and desperation as she disappears out of view for what may be forever.

I now realize that we never even exchanged one word to each other. I whisper, “I love you”, as the other two guards pull me towards the door that will guide me to a world that I never wanted to know.

A daunting shiver runs through my spine as I stand shakily at the very back edge of the district eleven over-stuffed plaza, waiting for the dreadful, yearly reaping to start. Young, scared eyes are frantically looking around, trying to find the comforting gaze of their loved ones for what may be the last time. Everybody is shifting nervously around as if we are all standing on uneven, moving land. Every year, the same woman, with the name of Harper Hayes, goes to every district to announce two names of opposite genders to attend the murderous Hunger Games. The people owning those names get a look of shock, fear and dread written all over their faces, so easily displayed that they don’t even try to hide it. This year, Harper looks around the crowd with a long, slow 180 degree gaze before putting her delicate hand in the jar full of so many innocent names and slowly pulls out one small, folded, two by two slip of parchment. The silence in the air was like someone turned the humidity up to a thousand percent, chocking us all into a dreadful silence. The one name that I thought would never have been called, not in the jar of so many names, got called out clean and crisp, slicing through the air.

“Juniper Stowe!”

My legs feel like jelly, the shock overwhelming me, as I try to stand up. The relieved faces that surround me give me sorrowful stares as I finally get my energy to shakily rise to my full height. My emotions are whirring inside of me like a hurricane, but they are all being hidden away as realization starts to hit me as I slowly sit back down with a feeling that no other person can understand.