Sometimes people are away and homesick and need a little reminder of home. This came across my mind when I was watching the Hunger Games last night. I was watching one of the tributes from my district and he seemed to be very slow and sad. I thought he might be homesick, and since I saw the tributes receive the silver parachute to record a video and send it back to home. So I went into my room and constructed a little basket to send to the boy that encased all of the little tokens of district 11. One thing I put in was a small tractor and some wheat from the fields. Since district 11 was all farms, it thought this would relieve his homesickness. Also I secretly snuck some food and water from my house into the bottom of the basket to help boost his energy and win the games. Then once I finished the package and imagined myself in that boy’s shoes, it was a dark place in the arena with screaming and thunderous cannons erupting. Suddenly a giant tsunami sized wave of sadness overcame me and I broke down on my knees and cried giant tears, as I thought of what it would be like to be in the games.

The next day I tuned TV today and it showed the boy receiving his package and he broke out the smallest smile. He tried to hide his smile among all of the evil in the arena. A bit after his revitalization from the fresh food and remembrance of home, he was on the move. He was like an eagle seeking out his prey, suddenly he reached put and stabbed a boy that was leaning down over a creek getting a drink and the cannons sounded off. Now it was him and three more people in the arena, I hoped my package will hope him take the victory.

The day after the game makers had sounded their first attack with a tsunami, I was sitting there watching the games again. Again I heard the broadcasters announced the horrific words that there will be another “surprise” from the game makers. When I heard this fear engulfed my body as to what would happen this time. Since the boy from district 10 that I was rooting for was plowed over and innocently killed by the game maker’s tsunami, I decided to root for the remaining tribute from my district. She was short and had wavy hair that was the color of the fresh plowed dirt on our family’s farm. As her make a spear out of a sharpened stick I heard the announcer with fear in his voice yell “here comes the surprise.”

I suddenly jumped out of my seat to see what the crazy game makers had unleashed today. At first the giant swarm seemed to look like a rainbow with vivid colors, but then I realized they were poisonous dart frogs. I had heard stories of how they could kill ten men in a matter of seconds with their venom. Once again like yesterday I saw the kill four innocent young children without a sound. By the time the frogs had swarmed on the four they had no time to speak and the frogs were killing them silently. Then I had realized that the girl I was rooting for had been attacked and killed, I felt guilt and sorrow, almost as if I had killed her. It seemed as if every person I rooted for died, I swiftly gathered the remote and turned off the television in disgust.

The last time I watched the Hunger Games I was rooting for a boy who was about my age and was in district 10. I figured I would root for him because district 10 is also poor, as am I, so we are somewhat alike. As the boy swiftly galloped through a thick patch of bright green thickets, I heard one of the announcers say in a raspy voice “We have just received new that the game makers have a trick up their sleeve so watch out for some fireworks.” Then the big moment I was waiting for happened the game makers trick was unleashed and I saw the cameras zoom in on a giant aqua blue wave run across the ocean on the border of the country. It seemed to be a tsunami, which screamed death as it plowed over three tributes like a football player running over a young boy.

Then suddenly the tsunami calmed down and a smooth wave swept across the island. I looked around to see if I could see the boy I was rooting for and what I saw I will never forget. They zoomed in on him; he was floating across the bright, crisp ocean water. He was crushed by the wave, and my body trembled as I filled with sadness. The wave off sadness overcame me like the wave of water that overcame the boy. I though what would it be like if my little brother was a tribute and he was killed by the game makers horrible trick.

I was sitting there under my tree with the boy I had formed an alliance with. I was very tired after I had a brief night’s sleep where I dreamed of the dull brown fields of District 11. Suddenly out of the corner if my eye, I saw a bright flash in my eye. As I stared at the UFO type object it seemed like a silver trash bag with a small box on the end. I showed it to my friend and we stared at the bright and shining object and decided if it was safe to open it. I smelled it to see if it reeked of poison, but it seemed to smell like cardboard. Then I opened he package and to be honest, I was very scared that the package might be a bomb or something dangerous that another tribute sent to try and kill me. Out of the box popped a brand new camera with a note. It was from a sponsor and they expressed their anger about how I had not killed anyone and my lack of competition. So to hopefully boost my motivation, they let me film a video and send it back to my parents. This did seem to help me because it took off the effects of homesickness.

When I was camping out next to a big rough tree the size of a skyscraper I heard a loud scream full of weakness. Then a cannon sounded, resembling the death of the first victim of the 80^th Hunger Games.  As the night lingered longer and the ominous shadow of the moon crept into my view I heard the sound of the cannons shaking the ground three more times. As the grayish dull moon crept across the sky I saw the names of those who had been killed through the day. Three of the four had not registered in my mind and I could not ever recall meeting them. But something I did remember he was next to me during the reaping and was crying like a lost puppy when being called. I quickly looked at the screen and thought how lucky I was to be alive, although I have only stayed here next to this tree forever. Since the gong sounded I ran right to this tree and have been lying here curled up like a newborn baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about home, for some reason this tree has seemed like my only home.

As I thought of home I fell into a deep sleep, I don’t know how I could fall asleep on a night like this and was woken by the boom of a thunderous cannon. The fact that I had slept disappointed me so much and I doubted how I could live if all I did was sleep. I had slept while other cried, died and escaped death. As soon as I realized where I was and what I was doing I saw a young man looking at me and I grabbed for my bow to kill him and I staggered backwards. He told me to calm down and he had wanted me to form an alliance with him. I agreed since he was from district 10 and was also poor and didn’t have much, just like me. So we walked off into the light and I felt my heart pounding harder than ever.

When I was standing there waiting for the gong to sound I was thinking harder than I have ever thought before. I realized if leave before the gong sounds I will most likely die and if I leave after the gong sounds I could be killed my one of the people near me. One thing I thought was I have to leave at the right time, not too early not too late. I felt as if I was a sprinter and I was waiting for the starter’s gun to start. As I waited and waited this was the longest moment of my life, as I looked around I could see the ocean in the distance, and could smell the salt water. I had such I tight grip on the token in my hand which was the small tractor. My grip was so hard a wheel snapped of and I could feel the sweat in my palms. In a quick second I heard the gong and I started to sweat and panic.

All I thought was that I need to find a base or shelter where I can stay and defend myself from my enemies. As I ran sweat poured down my arms and my body felt like a fast flowing river. As I ran and ran I came across a green and brown monster tree and I decided I could stay here and access a nearby river for food and water. Once I staked a camp, I looked at the bluish gray sky and saw a small puffy looking cloud and it looked like a tractor, this just reminded me of home.

I remember standing there to receive my tribute token; I was outside of a huge dull gray building. I had thought that I would receive a necklace or something like that, because I had asked for my father to present the token to me. I had chosen my father to give this to me because he had taught me everything I know, from how to farm that boring brown field that seemed to go off the side of the world to teacher me how to have a catch outside of our house, which seemed more like a shack. Even though we didn’t have a lot he works out there every day in that field that smells like three week old trash. If I didn’t have him I wouldn’t know what I would do or where I would be, for this I will dedicated my effort in this year’s hunger games to his hard work and dedication.

I saw him walk around a large tree which seemed to be an oak; he walked as if he didn’t want to be here. I could understand his fear; he would be seeing his son for probably the last time in person before I meet my fate in the hunger games. He opened his sweaty palm and I saw the glimmering token. It was a small tractor I had had since I was a young boy; it will remind me off my agricultural town in District 11. The tractor had chipped yellow and green paint with a half broken wheel from when I dropped it once. My father had saved up a week’s worth of pay to buy me this and this is one of the best things he ever gave me. When the handoff of the token happened my father and I looked at each other and cried, all I thought was that this might be the last time we are together.

When I was at the reaping waiting to be called I was sweating more than I ever have had before, and I was shaking like crazy. I had never felt like this before when I was on the farm back in District 11, which was the only thing I had ever done. I have pondered to myself before about being selected as tribute and what would happen to me. It would be nice to get off of the farm I work on, but I would most likely be killed. His was all racing through my mind like an elite sprinter as I was standing there like a felon about to be caught police. As Harper Hayes picked out the names of the people who would be volunteered, I saw the mixed emotions of the tributes being picked, some seemed as if they had already been killed and other seemed so happy, as I it was Christmas. One boy next to me who was from District 10 was so nervous he was crying and I could not bear to see him like this. The situation only got worse when his name was called, I saw his dry knees touch the cold hard ground as he knelt to the ground and wept like a baby. Then, the worst moment of my life happened.

Mrs. Hayes reached her long fingers into a bowl and looked through her light blue glasses  and with her voice beckoning through the silent stadium she call my name, Bill Farmer. At first I doubted myself and was so mad that I punched a wall next to me, all I could hear was my ears ringing and my family members, who were not with me crying. I stood up and waved my hand, which is the respectable thing to do and looked for my parents, Bill and Emily, but were no were to be seen. I could feel the pain running through my veins as my hand pounded. Then I let a scream out and bit y tongue, I could taste the blood, it reminded me of the taste of defeat. Then I thought I am going to die, what can I do?