Danger: 85th Hunger Games

by MegynFan13

Experience the turbulence of the 85th Hunger Games through the eyes of the 24 courageous tributes. Watch as the twists and turns of the most dangerous games yet claim 23 lives and leave one tribute left standing. These are the Hunger Games, watch your back.

10. I suck at life

Hey there love ducks. ( I don't even know…)

I would like to extend a personal apology for my absence and the absence of a chapter today. I'm sorry I suck at life. ( and especially sorry to beautiful redemption to whom I dangled the promise of a chapter and then proceeded to yank it away, I promise that was not my intention.)

So, I get home from a grueling first few days at school filled with 7 and half hours a day of reading syllabus's and safety sheets.

Yes science teachers, I'm looking at you, after 15 full years doing this whole life thing, I'm fully aware that touching the open flame will burn me, but thanks for the heads up.

Anyways, I go into my word program and get ready to finish my already 2000 word chapter and post it tonight when I had a terrible realization.

My computer did not autosave my document like usual when my computer shut off for updates.

1904 words. Gone.

But on the upside, my computer saved 96 words (I. don't. understand.) so here's 96 words to tide you ever until I can remember what I wrote about. Cool.

I'm going to try to post the new chapter in a few days.

You know, days like normal people count them.

Please stick with me. I know I've been sucking more than usual and I'm so so so sorry :-/ I'm going to be more consistent. I promise. I also promise to stop posting these stupid AN's, I just felt like I owed it to the amazing people who supported my story to let them know why I randomly fell off the face of the earth.

AND ALSO TO ANYONE WHO MESSAGED ME A NEW TRIBUTE. SORRY I HAVEN'T REPLIED, I'LL GET TO IT AS SOON AS I FINISH REWRITING THIS CHAPTER.

Tiger-Lily Baker

I trace the edge of the wooden picture frame with my index finger, feeling the grooves and bumps time has worn onto it. Encased in the wood and glass frame, my mother smiles back at me. She looked like me, or rather I look like her. We both share the same white blonde hair and clear grey eyes. Or at least we used to.

My mom died when I was only 9. She was the one that was always there for me even in my lowest moments and losing her was like losing part of myself.