User blog comment:Epic Hobo/The 250th Hunger Games/@comment-5748603-20120623173202

Aurora, please don't consider this spam, but I want you to critic!! I suppose this needs an explantion, I am writing a story using characters based on kids in my class, rated on popularity fromm 1 to 12. I am the 9 boy, and my best friend is Cara. So, I'm Alex (Andrew) and my friends in school have simmilar names, so. Yeah. Also, Robin is one of my good friends at school. PLEASE READ!

MORNING

Alex's POV

Cara and I are seperated from this very moment, my hands touch her cheek and she smiles at me. I know I will die, me living was never an option. Cara is the reason I'm here. So I can save her. She looks at me, tears welling up in her eyes. I lean in and wrap my arms around her. The peace-keepers run at, trying to get us apart.

“No! Alex!” she screams with utter rage. She shakes off the peace-keeper and runs for me, but one grabs her. I look at her.

“Your gonna win Cara, I'll make sure of it.” I whisper to her. She looks at me and I look deep into her eyes, so many emotions and memories are swimming around in those eyes. I see rage. Utter, blinding, furious rage for the games. I see sadness, for knowing she may die, for I may die. I see love. For me. My cousin and I. Chances are, neither of us will survive the bloodbath. The peace-keeper drags away my cousin, into a room where her tube is, for her to go in the arena. And it hits me, hits me fully. Not like at the reaping when I knew for Cara to win, I would have to die. Not like at the Chariots, when I realised, these people are betting on our deaths. Not in training, when I realised that I was worth nothing to these people. I now know. These people want us to die, for fun, enjoyment. Its sick and I have to play a part. I will not kill. If it is the last thing I do. A klaxon sounds. That means I need to go to my room. I need to get ready. For the games. I walk down the corridor, escorted by the peace-keepers of course. The faces of the tribute are marked on the door. And that makes me wonder, do they change the door every year, or just paint over it. It doesn't matter, but I'm so terrified that I think I'm shaking. Oh god. I see AJ's face, Rachel's. The ones from 2, 3 and 4. All the way up to 9. I'm here. I look at the door, a poor engraving of my face is on the door, a brown number 9 is above it. All us tributes stand in a row. From one to twelve. Only one of us will be back here. And it won't be me. I'm certain. But more pressing. Around half of us will die within the next hour. In the bloodbath. The door opens and I run in. Robin stands there. Arms folded, her beautiful, silky blonde hair is a mess. She looks at me, and the tears well up in her eyes. She embraces me, her lips pursed. Holding back a scream. My tears begin to flow as I hug back. Robin has helped me through everything. The Chariots, up to now. And she will be the one to see me off.

“Alex. You can win this. I believe in you.” she whispers in my ear. I come out of the embrace and shake my head. Robin is the best stylist nine has had in years. She is amazing. I look over her shoulder and I see the camera. She pulls me in close.

“Listen Alex. The arena is a city, a bombed one. There is a forest on the outer edge and only weapons and packs at the cornucopia. I want you to get an ally, Cara, maybe the ones from 7, 8 or 10. Doesn't matter. Get into the outer forest and stay there.” she whispers in my ear, in an unusually raspy voice. I look at my stylist and think of her advice. A bombed city, that's new. Weapons and packs, predictable. I do need an ally. But only Cara. I look at Robin again. Her kind brown eyes that see the best in everyone, her lack of make up and alterations make her seem normal. And she's around 20. So, if we were back home. I would have longed to be her friend. But no. The games don't want that.

“Thanks Robyn. I love you.” I say to her. She knows what I mean. She knows that the love we share cannot be broken by anyone. True friends.

“I love you too, Alex.” she replies. A large red number 90 appears on the wall. 89... 88... Its the countdown for the games, I back away. Having second thoughts, getting cold feet. All these expressions, I thought they were exaggerating. But this is so much worse than words. I can't express my feelings at the moment. I am so terrified, I think I may faint. My feet find the metal tube. The plastic walls surround me on each side, except one. In front of me. Robin realises she has forgot something and grabs it from the table. My token. A small, reddish brown cluster of grain. Dried and pressed by Cara and I. She hands it to me through the glass, seconds before it closes. Thank god. I hold it close to my body. Sucking all of the good memories out of it. Before putting it in my pocket. Then I see something that terrifies me. A hoard of peace-keepers burst through the door. Robyn backs away. They know about her advice. Telling me about the arena. Somewhere, a gamemaker is being hanged, or executed. A peace-keeper punches Robin across the face and she falls. I pound on the glass.

“Robin!” I scream. Another one kicks her in the chest and pulls her to her feet by her hair. Oh god. My metal plate begins to rise, but the peace-keeper raise a gun to Robin. She screams one last word at me, that the glass blocks out, but I can lip read.

“Win.”

The peace-keeper fires, a bullet speeds out the chamber of his gun, piercing the air. Right into Robin's temple. A face that once was so beautiful, no wears an eternal mask of shock and fear. The bullet leaves her head and she clatters to the ground, lifeless. The blood spurts from her head. No! I pound on the glass. But the universe has the last word. The bullet ricochets of the wall, right into that peace-keepers forehead. But I don't care. Robin is gone. Dead. Before she could live her life. Its a lot to take in before I'm in the arena. I try to take in what I've seen. My stylist, my friend. Dead, on the floor. No respect, no love. Just death. Robin is dead. Its almost as bad as if Cara died. I don't know if I could handle that. Just then. I reach the arena. My metal plate on of the 24 around the cornucopia. Robin was right. It is a bombed city. A forest is on the outer edge. And in the middle of us is a huge statue. Packs and weapons clumped about the middle. But Robin wasn't completely right. There is food. But it is at our feet and is very small in portions. For example. At my feet is a slice of bread. 10 meters in front of me is a large chicken and water. This is how it works. Flee, you get nothing and die of starvation. Go in, you try and get something. Then you get killed. So a lose-lose situation unless you are a career. I'm not that fast, but Cara is. Speaking of which, where is she. I look around and on my left, there he is. AJ Bananan. The scum of the earth. Well, career speaking of course. He glances my way, and I see hate in his eyes. Obviously. First I outperform him at Chariots, then completely fail at training, then do amazing at the Interviews. Its enough to make any career's blood boil. He raises his hand to his neck and makes a cutting motion. I swallow. He wants to kill me. On my right is the boy from 4. According to his jumper, which we all have our name and district on. His name is Mike. Suddenly, a huge explosion rips through the air and what is left of the boy from 6 is sent sky high. A huge crater where he once stood. See, this is why you don't go off your plate before the gong. I wonder how long is left, 25, 20 seconds odd. I look for Cara. But the cornucopia is blocking her. So I do something no one has ever done before.

“Cara, grab a pack and a Bow, then meet me at the front of the cornucopia!” I scream into the air. I look at AJ, he's gob smacked. Ha. Try that on for size. But then I realise. I have about 15 seconds to get ready. And one is already dead. No cannons until after the bloodbath though. I look down where Cara is, I can see her now. Next to her is the boy from 10. Something beginning with M. Michael? Manny? Oh, its Matt! Then its Rachel. Rachel. She is cackling evilly. Then, there should be David from 6. But he is, everywhere. And Claire. Claire's clothes and face a sodden with blood and guts. Something tells me that Rachel pushed him off the plate. I look around again. All of us. A group of kids, that should be back home. Having fun, going to school. Working on the farm, or in the Bakers or anything, but not here. Not about to kill each other for sport. I want to go back home, but I know that isn't possible if Cara is to win. I will die in this arena. 22 others will too. Cara will go home. If its the last thing I do.

GONG!!

I throw myself from the plate and grab the bread at my feet, AJ runs up to me, weaponless, probably trying to snap my neck. But I throw the bread at him and it hits him in the face. It would be funny if it wasn't so scary. I look at the frenzy of bodies in the mouth of the cornucopia. Suddenly, AJ is on his feet again and charges past me, knocking me over. I think he wants to kill me, but the temptation of weapons and packs draw his attention. I watch as Malcom from 5 charges him. He's so small, and probably younger than both AJ and myself. AJ grabs a knife from the pile. I can't watch. I scurry to my feet, up and over a box as I grab a sword. I flip over a crate and kick AJ in the chest. He falls down and hits his head on another crate.

“Alex!” screams Cara. She holds a pack, a pink one, in her left hand, and a silver bow and sheath of arrows in her other. I grab a sword and a dark brown pack. I sprint for her, but I'm not fast, just strong. I'm not bragging, that's the way it is. I'm slow. And too slow. A knife clips Cara's chest. I sprint, fast this time, to her. The knife is lying a few feet away and blood is oozing from her ribs. I glare at the guy who threw it. Danny from 2. He grabs a mace, and he swings it at the girl from 10. Mary. She's the youngest here. Only 12. He slams it into he back, and yanks it out. Half the flesh on her back comes away and she collapses to the ground. I help Cara up and we sprint for the forest, I grab Mary by the arm and help her to the feet. Cara looks at me questioningly and I glare at her. We drag her away from the bloodbath, and I run back in. I hear the knife whistle by my ear and I dive to the ground. The knife sails over my head and into the boy from 11's chest. He is thrown backwards by the force, quite a good arm for a 14 year old girl, and hits the ground. Still. I throw myself up again and Cara is at my side. Rachel throws a knife at Cara and I push her out the road. The knife speeds between the 3 inch gab between my face and Cara's face. I glance away just as the knife hits the boy from 12 in the eye. I get on my feet again, and we run past the cornucopia, hoping to get away this time, when an Arrow hits me in the shoulder. It was meant for my heart, but it missed. I look back, it was Allison from 5. Suddenly, the girl from 2 throws a knife at her and it clips her nose. Allison screams and throws a knife at her, it misses. I don't care anymore. I want out of here. I run through the battle, onto the cobblestones of a street. Bombed houses, shops, hospitals and pretty much everything is there. Cara screams as the boy from 3 tackles her. I was so concerned with getting away, I forgot why I volunteered. For Cara. All I have is my sword, and I can't throw that. So I do the one thing he didn't expect. I charged him. I run right into his chest and he flies of his feet, crashing into a window somewhere. I grab Cara's arm, and once again sprint away. The bloodbath's edges seem to have grown, because the boy from 2 chases Matt from 10 down an alley near us. I hear the snap of a neck and the slam of a body hitting the ground. And its not Danny that's dead! We run through the roads, the trees getting closer by the minute, we manage to get into the forest and scale a tree. Thank god. Cara and I escaped pretty much unharmed except for my cut from AJ and Cara's chest being grazed by Rachel's knife. So we are ok. But I think we need to check our supplies. Just then, the cannons begin. One, two. Three and four. That's it. No way! Only four deaths! Then there must be loads of injuries. We will have to wait until tonight before we find out who. I saw the 6 boy die, and the one from 10, 11 and 12. So that is who died. I think, unless one of them lived. Anyway. I check my pack, the brown one. Its a vibrant brown. So we need to disguse that. Just as bad as we need to fix Cara's hair. Red is a very seldom colour seen in the arena, unless someone just died! I look through my pack and I find some good stuff. A water canteen, with no water. A large machete. A few strips of beef, some Iodine, a pack of knives, a few arrows and an apple. That is quite good. But no water, luckily, Cara's pack seems to have loads! 3 canteens, each full to the brim with the stuff. So, to recap my last hour. I saw my stylist being shot to death, someone being blown up, someone get a knife in their eye, got an arrow in my shoulder, a knife in someone's chest, threw bread in someone's face and saved a dying 12 year old. Who else can say that? No one. No one deserves what I've been through in the past hour, no 16 year old. Heck, not even an adult should have to experience that. But we do and we have. Great. All that fills my mind is distorted visions of Robin's body. I don't have a clue to what is next. Cara and I never watched the games unless it was necessary. Like at a feast and such. But I have an idea. And it involves going to the cornucopia.