Disclaimer: Yeah, not owning the Hunger Games.


Kepps Tridate (Age 17) male – District 12

I let my toes sink into the muddy river valley. The cool earth seeps through my blistered toes; relieving them of all pain. I don't even know if I'm supposed to do this. I don't know if it will infect my feet. I'm past caring at this point though. Well, that's phrased wrong. I'm passed caring about problems that are not going to be presented until later dates. I let my eyes sink close for a few moments and let the sun dance on my eyelid, at peace for what seems the first time since the Games began.

Opening my eyes once more I'm startled to see myself being watched by the scrawny, little, fourteen-year-old boy from eight. He seems scarred and unarmed. Seeing him standing there, I offer a smile that he is slow to return. I don't see him as a threat. My brother back home is the same age.

The boy is watching me carefully, not moving closer, but not moving farther either. My expression changes to puzzled. "Do you want to sit down?" I offer, talking to him as if he were a friend, not one that had to die in order for me to make it back home.

The boy, still seemingly expressionless, shakes his head, "I'm fine where I am." I squint my eyes close in a suspicious manner, not sure what the boy is trying to do. My knife is tight in my hand if he tries any funny business. I can tell that the boy realizes this. "Do you have any food?" The boy asks beaming with curiosity.

I quickly glance at my pack, relieved that it is closed and not revealing any of my bounty. I turn to the boy; he seemed to have moved closer. Not by much, but a little. I pay that no mind. "No, I have no food left." I say, the lie falling easily off of my mouth. He might be the age of my brother; but he still isn't him.

"Then what's that smell?" He asks, his voice now accusing. I feel startled, but I keep my face expressionless. I'm starting to realize that this boy is not to be trusted. But he is so small, my mind contradicts.

"We're by a river. The smell would be fish." I say, my voice starting to sound like venom. The boy realizes it too, and starts to glare at me.

I'm matching his glare when I hear the splash. I don't even have time to turn and see who it is. I don't have time to raise my knife. I don't have time to call to the boy. Not that I would. The last image I see is that of the boy grinning. Blood coats my neck in a gleaming smile; the smile that would be my last.


Not one of my best ideas, but it's still interesting. I guess you will all have mixed opinions about each one I write. If you have any ideas that you would like to share, please do. Thanks to Safira Rue Mellark and foxforever23 for reviewing. Thanks for reading! Review!