I watched the Hunger Games movie two times so far, both with different friends, but I felt the same way every time I finished watching. I'm not so sure what I think about it, just that in some way I was hugely disappointed. Prim was sad and cried a lot, didn't have the braveness Suzanne Collins always said she did. She just didn't seem happy at all. That killed my spirit and I wanted to write about her the way I imagined her as I fell in love with each and every book of the trilogy. Thanks for the people who actually read this, by the way. This is Suzanne's work. Not mine
7 Years Old
I start to whistle as I lug the heavy wagon of grains and breads behind me, feeling light headed. Of course, Gale would never let me take terasse, but he was off hunting in the woods and he told me to collect it for him. Most of the time, Gale catches us a squirrel or a rabbit to eat for dinner, but sometimes that leaves a hollow feeling in my stomach I just can't shake away. It'll help with some grains.
A mockingjay passing by in a tree stops chirping and listens intently as I whistle, and after a few minutes, he starts to whistle with me, adding a chirp here and an extra note there. I'm amazed at this little bird as I continue walking back home, the bird hopping from tree to tree around me.
I see her, then, when I have both my hands behind me, trying to lug the wagon. I'm having trouble with it, and she can tell. I'm frozen in place as she turns her head in my direction, her eyes sending a shock down my spine. With her blonde hair flying behind her like a cape, she runs up to me. "Need some help with that?" she asks earnestly.
I scoff. "What, me? Help?" I say meanly. "I'm probably ten times stronger than you!" I suddenly realize how rude that sounds and I start to open my mouth but the sound of her laugh stops me.
"I bet you are, Rory." She grins, shaking soft, blonde hair from her face. "But even the strongest need help sometimes."
I nod uncertainly, move out of the way to let her take the handle, and I start to push it from the back. She's running, her cheeks turning red from the wind, and I'm laughing. We run all the way home, red streaks on our cheeks and our hair whipped back. She gives me a small wave, a big smile and walks home.