The More You Can Distract Yourself, The

Something Small And Quiet, Like A Match Being Struck, Lights Up The Gloom Inside Of Me.

Yes, Victors Are Our Strongest. They're The Ones Who Survived The Arena And Slipped The Noose Of Poverty That Strangles The Rest Of Us. They, Or Should I Say We, Are The Very Embodiment Of Hope Where There Is No Hope. And Now Twenty-three Of Us Will Be Killed To Show How Even That Hope Was An Illusion.

The Eleventh Plague Hits Disturbingly Close To Home An Excellent, Taut Debut Novel.

I Go To The Saltwater And Wash Off The Blood, Trying To Decide Which I Hate More, Pain Or Itching. Fed Up, I Stomp Back Onto The Beach, Turn My Face Upward And Snap, "hey, Haymitch, If You're Not Too Drunk, We Could Use A Little Something For Our Skin." It's Almost Funny How Quickly The Parachute Appears Above Me. I Reach Up And The Tube Lands Squarely In My Open Hand. "about Time" I Say, But I Can't Keep The Scowl On My Face. Haymitch. What I Wouldn't Give For Five Minutes Of Conversation With Him.

I'm Not Flailing Now, As My Muscles Are Rigid With The Tension Of Holding Myself Together.