Delly Ficklewood

I'm Delly. Delly Ficklewood. I'm 16 years old and I'm from District Seven. This is the Seventh Annual Hunger Games.


6. The games.

I stand on the podium, waiting for the countdown to end. The Cornucopia is glistening gold in alls it’s glory. The sun shines down onto it. I can barely see anything. It’s so bright. And so warm. I’m terrified. What lurks in the humid forests. What swims in the tiny ocean stream. What sits inside the Cornucopia, waiting to pounce. I have no time to answer these questions.




I run straight to the Cornucopia. My mentor told me to. There’s a bag. The number seven is written on it. I see an identical one sat next to it. One for me. One for Skeeter. I take them both. I run away. But where to? There’s no forest. There’s no water, except a tiny stream in the centre. There’s no caves. Nowhere to hide. The game-makers probably want it over and done with. I turn. I see a hill. I start running towards it.

I’m climbing the hill. The higher I climb, the harder it is to continue. I reach the top. I scavenge through the bags for food. I scoff down a slice of bread.

It has been 6 days since the games started. Seven weeks and six days. Tomorrow is the seventh day of the seventh week. I love seven. The number. I’m glad I was born into district seven. I found a place to sleep two weeks ago. There’s a little cave ledge on the mountain. I fall asleep.

I awake to the sound of two cannons. There’s only five of us left. Blight, me, Skeeter and the two from district 2. Blight is a District five boy. He’s only thirteen. He’s three years younger than me. I want him to survive. But I want to live. I promised Chamomile I would survive. I clean my newly collected axe. I love this axe. I killed two people with it. It’s completely bloody, even the handle is covered by the crimson liquid. I’m sitting waiting for Blight to return from his hunting trip. I’ve been with him for a week. There’s been no sight of Skeeter. I miss him.

Me and Blight are living inside the Cornucopia. He discovered that the hill moves around the arena. It’s not safe to stay there. I hear a sound. I pick up my knife and my axe. I stand up. I turn, only to find Skeeter standing there. I run to him, dropping my weapons. I hug him. He does not hug me back. He pushes me away. He starts walking closer and closer to me, a knife and a spear in his hands. I turn away and start to run. He’s chasing me along the flatland. I see an oncoming rock. I don’t dodge it. Good bye life! I think as I fall to the ground. A spear pierces the delicate skin on my back. My shirt becomes a crimson coloured item of fabric. Something stands on my leg. I scream in agony. It moves along up my back. My spine cracks and snaps.

‘At least something will kill you. Turtles, what a pathetic way to go.’ Skeeter says. I scream.

Then that is it. Darkness. Nothingness. Emptiness. A white light ahead of me. I walk towards it. I enter the light.

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