The First Annual Hunger Games Contest Book Entries

Challenge Three: Mentors

No one else came for Atlas just like no one else came for me. Go figure right? Ever since Ammon's passing, I closed myself in and didn't talk to any of my school mates; I only talked to the multitude of journals through my writing. It was a positive outlet for me, as my mother would often exclaim to my father when he got angry at how absorbed I would get. At least I wasn't out doing drugs or other immoral things.

Atlas and I didn't speak to each other. We didn't have anything to talk about, honestly, and if we did we couldn't muster the words to speak. There was just too much on our minds.

The screaming outside ceased when gunshot after gunshot rang through the area. Even after it was dead silent, I heard the screaming and wails of those outside ringing in my ears. I cringed and hugged myself as tight as I could. The silence after the revolt was eerie and every rustling I heard, every creak of the settling building, every deep breath Atlas took I jumped in fear. Every sound I heard, I whispered repeatedly, "Fear isn't from God." A word of advice I heard my father tell Ammon the night before he was deployed. From the corner of my eye I saw Atlas turning slightly and cocking his head towards me, probably trying to listen to what I was telling myself or assuming I was completely bonkers.

After an era of nearly complete silence, Nerias came through the doors. His hair was a messier nest than earlier and his shirt was halfway untucked. Unlike the other stereotypical image of capitol people, our escort did not have dyed skin; however, he did have flushed skin, probably from running or fighting or who knows what.

Nerias held on the doorknob and let his head fall down towards his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Atlas and I stood up and waited for him to say something. Nerias panted and eventually mustered enough breath to tell us that it was time to go to a train in the outskirts of our district so it can take us to the Capitol. Atlas and I nodded and together made the trek to the train tracks, with Nerias right behind us.

By the time we got outside, the air got chilly and the sun was going down. Looking at the cobblestone of the area I noticed the presence dark liquid everywhere. We made it to a glistening street light and I looked down to see if I can make out what the liquid was. I gasped and then shrieked. I began to feel faint and I felt the bile rise to my mouth. I grasped the dark metal pole of the street light and leaned back onto it for support. Looking around, I could see the liquid remains of wounded victims. Pools of blood collected in the cracks of the stone, ripped fabric danced in the light wind and gruesomely, strips of skin lay flatly all over the cold stone. I breathed quickly and soon began to hyperventilate. Screaming out for myself, I yelled "Fear isn't from God!" In attempts to calm myself down.

Atlas merely ignored my girlish screams and kept making his way through the near darkness, following Nerias. Eventually he stopped and turned around, looking blankly at my direction. He growled, "What's wrong this time?"

I yelled back at him, having a full fledged meltdown. "DON'T YOU SEE?! THERE'S BLOOD AND GORE ALL OVER THIS PLACE. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!"

Atlas breathed deeply and walked towards me slowly. When he was about a foot away from me, he leaned in close and said sarcastically. "Do I see? Do I see!? No I don't fucking see, Cherokee! I'm fucking blind!" And with that, he turned at his heels and started to walk away towards Nerias who didn't bother to stop and see if we were okay.

I opened my mouth to reply but I was completely dumbfounded. What an idiot I am! Of course he couldn't see this horror! He was blind and in a moment of fear and ignorance, I forgot that and probably hurt his feelings.

Eventually, I calmed down and chased after him. It was getting dark and everyone knew to be indoors when the moon shone high in the sky. We walked side by side. In the distance, we heard the whistling of the train whistle. We walked briskly towards the sound and finally the outline of the ginormous train came into sight. I gasped in awe and took the image all in. In my father's stories and in pictures I imagined these trains to be a whole lot smaller. Of course I saw some being built in the factories but each car was built one at a time, so I have never seen a completely constructed train.