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.