WriterOfNeverKnown

When the anthem plays, no one appears in the sky.  The five of us sit on the beach until Katniss and Finnick figure it is about nine o’clock.  They lead the way over to the beach section of the twelve o’clock wedge, and the long trek to the top, where the lightning tree stands, begins.  I don’t remember it being this far to the force field before.  The oysters and bread I ate weigh heavily in my stomach and once or twice, I think I might throw it all back up.  It is with some difficulty that I keep it down.  We are all struggling to maintain the pace and we’re out of breath by the time we reach the tree.      Beetee

I abandon the leaf map I am making with Johanna the moment I hear the scream.  Turning so fast I injure my neck, I search the forest line and am just in time to see Katniss bolt into the darkness of the trees.  Finnick runs after her as I stumble to my feet in the shifting sand.  I call her name, but she screams something at the same time.  I can’t make it out until she shouts again, already deep in the woods.      “Prim!  Prim!”      And then she goes silent.  I call to her a few more times, but she doesn’t answer.  Neither does Finnick.  I run for the wood, determined to find them both, and I slam into an invisib

Finnick and Katniss face off, sizing each other up.  I’m afraid they will kill each other any second, so I step between them.  Finnick and Mags might become our enemies eventually, but there’s no reason to start that fight prematurely.  After all, if any one of us is to make it out of this alive, we can use all the help we can get.      “So how many are dead?” I ask Katniss.      She takes a moment to answer.  She stands in front of the tree she just dropped out of after examining the arena around us; she looked down towards the Cornucopia, where any of us would look first, saw the fighting.  “Hard to say.  A

Just like last year, the momentary blackness inside the launch tube gives me a miniature panic attack.  But before my chest can collapse, the sunlight blinds me.  It doesn’t come just from above, but from beneath me as well, and I have to shield my eyes.      Claudius Templesmith, the announcer for the Games, reverberates all around me.  “Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!”  The sixty second countdown begins, and I fight to open my eyes and examine the arena.      The first thing I realize is that I am surrounded by water.  My metal plate is the only ground under my feet; everything else is w

Katniss becomes a tower of flames, bright tongues of orange, red, and blue.  For a second, I am so steeped in shock that I launch from my chair, intent on wrestling her to the ground to put the fire out, but I stop myself just in time.  Cinna had to have planned this.  It’s just another one of his Girl on Fire outfits.      But I am wrong.  When the pale smoke clears, Katniss stands precisely where she spun for the audience, but she is no longer wearing her beautiful wedding gown.  Instead, she is clothed in a dress of the same design, but the color of coal made of tiny…  Are those feathers?      Carefully, Caesar Flickerman

I do not dream.  When I open my eyes, I am tangled, not in my sheets damp with fear, but in Katniss, her arm over me and her hair in my face.  I gently blow it out of my mouth with a tiny smile and breathe deeply of the morning air.  Releasing her from the circle of my arms, I stretch my entire body and sigh in contentment.      After a moment, Katniss joins me in consciousness, reaching above her head to rid her arms of their nighttime cricks.  She blinks a few times in the early sunlight coming through her window, and then her eyes clear enough to see my face.      “No nightmares?” I ask with a smile.      She grins sleepi

As Chaff is given his score of seven, Katniss looks around and asks, “Have they ever given a zero?”      Haymitch grunts from the edge of the couch, still flaming mad at us, and refuses to answer.      “No,” says Cinna.  “But there’s a first time for everything.”      Seeder receives an eight, and then my picture fills the screen.  I’m expecting a zero.  It makes the most sense now that Katniss has said it.  But instead, the number twelve flashes beneath my face.  Shock paralyzes me and nobody says a word.  Even Effie is silent.  A twelve is awarded to Katniss as well.  I cannot comprehend

There is enough.  Not a lot, but enough for my intention.      The first three minutes of my session are spent mixing the remaining paints into just the right shades.  The morphlings do not use white, preferring the more vibrant colors, and there are enough dye materials to stain the white the hues I want.  The Gamemakers sit up in their little balcony, eating and drinking merrily behind their force field.  Of course they are bored by this time, but unlike last year, I am thankful that they only glance at me as I work.      Once the paints are just right, I move into the center of the room with the jars in my arms.  I kneel on the cold fl

The dining room is full of laughter, but as each tribute files out and into the training room for their private session, the noise slowly dies.  Finally, Seeder exits the dining room, leaving Katniss and me alone together in silence.  I watch as Katniss’ fingers flutter agitatedly on the table, tying invisible knots in invisible rope.      Smiling, I reach across the table and cover her hands with mine, forcing them to be still.  She lets me hold them between us and study the chaffed tips of the middle three fingers on her right hand, where her bowstring releases.  “Decided what to do for the Gamemakers yet?” I ask her, ru

During the lunch break our first day of training, I catch up with Katniss as she ladles stew into a bowl.  “How’s it going?” I ask since we have been at different stations all morning.  I’ve spent most of my time throwing knives with Brutus from District 2, painting camouflage with the tributes from District 6, and talking with Johanna Mason as she pummeled the wrestling instructor into the floor.      Katniss avoids my eyes.  “Good,” she says evasively.  “Fine.  I like the District 3 victors.”      “Really?  They’re something of a joke to the others.”      She scowls at