Enter iF You Dare

Task Two

   Studying the cylinder of glass with an intense stare, eyebrows furrowed deeply, somehow draws me out of the room so that I am somewhere else. It's calming to be taken out of the present room; like a lullaby, carefully soothing me into sleep. Why is it comforting? Oh, I don't know, except that in this room, my fate is about to be altered; where once I was meant to grow up a seamstress, surviving by sewing patches on things in District Eight, forever a lonely, lonely seamstress with nothing more than a penny in her pocket, in this room I am meant for something else. A different fate has befallen me, and in here I am meant to accept it.
    "It's time, Burd." A voice says to the back of my neck. I straighten my small posture, unsure whether there are cameras in the room or not, and step into the cylinder. I face Ravenna, the incandescent person in charge of providing me with Capitol-grade clothing, and nod in agreement. She places her skeletal fingers coated in a sparkling substance upon the keyboard to the side of the room. I can feel the countdown beginning already; sixty-seconds to zero, and we're all free to kill. But just until one of us returns to their home and then, killing is a crime and you'll be punished for it. Such a silly Capitol to come up with rules so contradictory.
    I look at the roof of the cylinder, expectations soaring for a vastly strange arena to meet my eyes as I rise to the surface. But then, in a frighteningly strange turn of events, I feel my entire body plummeting along with the glass cylinder. This isn't supposed to be happening, I recall as the tunnel opens and I'm falling through nothing. I feel as if I've left my stomach behind. My eyes had shut, afraid of reality; but soon they're open and a darkness so potent it prevents even a reflection from appearing on the glass surrounds me. The only sensation alive in me is the unmistakable premonition that I'm plummeting to my death. Mr. Illumine, the Head Gamemaker, wouldn't send me to my death almost immediately, would he? Terrified, my mind begins to conjure solutions to my predicament so that I might live. There has to be a flaw somewhere in the system. There are laws to gravity, aren't there? I can't fall forever because there has to be something down there pulling me to it. Right? Oh, but who am I to make such assumptions? I'm no gravitational-expert, or something. I'm a simple, twelve-year-old seamstress from District Eight.
   Then, a sound appears. An unpleasant, grating noise from the bottom of the cylinder. I try to see through the darkness but my eyes are not that strong nor is there any kind of light within the cylinder. Without one of my five senses at my disposal, I turn to one of the other four; I feel the glass until my fingers bump another surface, the floor, and trace across it. I feel around until my fingers investigate every inch of the circular floor, and nothing is found. Dumbfounded, I  rise to my feet again, but suddenly -- no, as if things could have gotten any worse, the floor is removed entirely, and I fall, leaving the cylinder behind. I fall faster, and faster. A shrill scream echoes the chambers as it leaves my throat. Following almost uniformly, more screams reverberate on whatever is enclosed around us. That is when I realize; I am not alone. If I'm not alone, a safe conclusion might be to assume that the Games have already begun; that this is the Bloodbath, a time in which all twenty-four contestants stand in a circle until the countdown is complete, and then fight each other for the contents of the Cornucopia. This is when the most deaths are accumulated; and the time in which the Capitol finds the most enjoyment. So, why, then, would the Gamemakers send us all flying down a dark hole where it's hard to see and even harder to kill? I thought they enjoyed the deaths.
    A sudden realization has struck me, and I'm not sure whether I should feel frightened or relieved, but the realization remains: these Games will be different. Entirely different from any other Games I'd seen previous. That is a thought worth contemplating indeed.
    Still falling, still frighteningly falling through a black hole, gasping for air only to be relieved when it fills my lungs, things begin to change. It's no longer so black I couldn't see my hand in front of my face if I tried. There is a slightly lighter atmosphere, an almost orange-looking aura fills the space and I begin to get sick. My stomach tightens, as if bracing for the impact of whatever ground lies beneath us. I cannot express even to myself how it feels now that the safety of the cylinder has left me; and perhaps it wasn't safer at all to be trapped inside a tube made of glass that would have shattered with the impact of any kind of surface below. But if the glass wasn't strong enough to hold up on impact, would I be? Perhaps I'll shatter, too. I am small, after all. The smallest.
   I look up, expecting to be met with nothing but darkness, but instead I see something within the darkness. It's silver, and small. Or at least, it was. It grows bigger and bigger, until I can see that it's falling, too, and I can barely make out the outline of what it is; a Cornucopia. They've given us a falling Cornucopia. Afraid, and holding myself together only by the thin grip of my two arms, I try to picture the happy place I saw in my bedroom last night. The darker picture replays in my head, but I try to push it away, and focus on the happiness on the other side. I don't want to think about the dark hole and falling and dying at the bottom. I don't want to worry about whether or not we'll be falling for the entire duration of the Games, because that would be ridiculous, I just want to think about happy things so at least I won't die scared.
     When my eyes do open, I see something inside the darkness. Ahead of me, a face slowly begins to appear. I'm neither frightened nor at ease. I'm curious. Who is looking at me, from less than five feet away? It becomes clear almost immediately that they're not my friend. All of us may be falling, but it doesn't stop the boy with sharp blue eyes from doing exactly what the Gamemakers want: fight. Maybe these Games won't be so different after all; it's all about the thrill of watching us chase each other, hunt each other, and kill each other, right? Perhaps the Bloodbath taking place in an endless, dark hole is just another way to thrill the Capitol to death. No pun intended, of course. Oh, silly carousel, stop moving! I have to get away from this mad boy with longer hair than I've ever had in my life! Searching the darkness as if something hidden in it could save me, I find only people and brown walls, traveling by at an immeasurable pace. I return my blue eyes to the black-haired boy about to cut me with his knife. I don't think about where that came from, though. I don't really care anyway, since I'm about to die, and there is no escape. He hurls his body through the air, almost like swimming, only with less to repel him in the direction he wants. He doesn't move very fast, but if we continue to fall for much longer, he'll  have more time to make his way to my side where he will take his knife in one hand and end my life. I must outsmart him, or I'll die in the air and my father will be left with no one to take care of him after the Games are over. I'll fall alongside my blood, until I'm spread over the ground in a twisted, mangled mess I doubt the Capitol will care to clean before putting me in a box and sending me home, where I'll be buried. With no weapon of my own, and no other way of escape, I begin to stretch out my limbs and act as if I were in water, slowly frog-swimming away from the boy.
    "You won't be fast enough!" He yells over the cries of the others. I don't dare to look back, for fear of coming face-to-face with the blade of a knife. However, as I finally begin to believe I will be dead when I reach the bottom of the hole, I look over my shoulder to find that, by some kind of miracle, I've propelled myself far away from the boy with the blade. Ecstatic, I try to convince myself the Gamemakers like me, otherwise how would I have escaped death when it was so close? They must have given me some sort of gift that makes me fast; faster than the others, at least.
    Above my head the Cornucopia crashes against the wall, creating a loud sound that echoes across the chamber and nearly bursts our eardrums. I hear some screaming, and then the Cornucopia smashing against the wall again. I want to get to it, somehow, and get inside. Perhaps there are more weapons inside; perhaps it isn't enough to simply be fast, I have to be battle-ready. Collecting what little strength I possess, I frog-swim again, this time trying to rise instead of fall. But gravity holds me down, prevents me from ascending. I guess my gift must have its limits. Quickly creating another plan, I wait for the Cornucopia to come to me. It is much heavier than I am, and therefore it must fall at a faster pace, which means that eventually, it will reach me. I must be patient, and silent. I must keep out of sight, or risk being targeted by the bigger kids. I'm afraid of the bigger ones. But, of course, nobody knows that. At least, not yet.
   My waiting pays off when the giant, streamlined-structure falls close enough for me to swim to. So, I do. I frog-swim until I'm inside of it, and quickly I search for items I can use. I've never been particularly good with sharp things, except scissors, which is probably why as soon as I see a pair of knives about the size of a pair of fabric scissors, I take them. The suit which I wear has a belt attached to it, to which I attach my knives. They are mine now, anyway. I don't bother to look for anything else,  although the inside is vast and filled with weapons, I just get out before I can be spotted.
   Outside, in the darkness once again, I see another tribute enter the Cornucopia. Thank goodness I wasn't in there when she came in, she looks a lot stronger than me. I could have died, again. But again my life was spared because for some reason, I received something along the way that helps propel me through the air quicker than I see the others, who struggle against gravity as it drags all of us down. With my knives, my gift and my courage, I face the bottom of the hole and the only thing that I can think of right now is, I simply must thank whomever it was that decided to give me the gift. I am truly, truly grateful.