Posted by 4blake | Posted in Uncategorized | Posted on May 21, 2014
Making friends is a skill I have not yet mastered, let alone forming an alliance. I doubt I will be able meet anybody trustworthy, it’s in human nature to murder out of greed or jealousy. I continue to sit in my tree, high above the sandy floor, thinking of a winning strategy. From the Hunger Games that I have seen before, victors can have a wide range of strategies, such as pretending to be weak, hiding the entire time, and fleeing from threats. All of these could probably work for me and my physical ability. I don’t have much muscle mass, so it would be in my best interest to stay a good distance away from any Careers. Since I am so high up in the tree strong gusts of wind start to make the branches tremble and shake. I quickly climb down, being careful not to miss a single branch. One wrong step and I can become a pancake shaped blob on the forest floor.
After descending the tree with care I begin to look for the perfect shelter, something near water and easy to run away from. The sun finally begins to slip below the ocean, transforming the sky into a sparkling oasis of deep purples and vibrant greys. I stumble upon a hollow tree trunk, it has a few abandoned spider webs in it, but I clear them out and add some soft ferns to the bottom to make acceptable accommodations. Once I deem the trunk acceptable it is almost time for the visions of the dead tributes. I am sitting and counting my supplies when the lost tributes are shown in the sky, I can almost hear their final pleas to their killers, begging them for mercy. Stan Jennings is shown across the moonlit sky, it seems like he is trying to warn everybody left in the arena that we must keep our eye open. I must be losing my mind, projected images don’t speak to you. Seeing a tribute from my district among the list of the dead is depressing, it makes it seem more realistic, that I could vanish at any given moment.
Sleep doesn’t come easily to me tonight, so I spend half of the night contemplating what would become of me once I die in the Hunger Games. Where do lost souls go once they have fulfilled their duties on Earth? I remember my mother telling me tails of happy places far away during my grandfather’s funeral. I drift off to sleep with visions of a happier place in my head. I was suddenly awaken when I hear somebody outside of my shelter. Then I am taken back to civilization when I hear a knock on the side of the trunk, I peak outside to see the brunette from District Four. I invite her to spend the cool night inside the tree trunk with me, I try to remember what she said her name was, but I just can’t. I hope that she will agree to be my ally when I ask her tomorrow morning, she seems to be brave. It will be so nice to have a friend to go through this ordeal with me.
I really enjoyed this post. You painted a picture of the setting with your words using great sensory details. Your moods and feelings expressed were also pretty deep. The one thing I think you should work on is your attention getter. But other then that great job.
I completely agree with Brad, the entire post was near perfect, with great word choices, and descriptiveness. As stated before, the attention getter could use some work but I think that once people move past it and into the meat of your story, they too will be lost in the, “oasis of stars” that you describe. Great Job Blake!
This was a great piece, but there were many careless errors such as verb tense in the 3rd paragraph, and punctuation mistakes throughout. My favorite sentence would have to be “The sun finally begins to slip below the ocean, transforming the sky into a sparkling oasis of deep purples and vibrant greys.” One more thing that I wish you would have noticed is that in the first paragraph you talk about the sandy floor, but then you say that you would be a pancake on the forest floor just a few sentences after. Overall, this was great!