Due to copy and pasting being stupid and not copying the italics, they will not show up here. Just know that I have read your entries with the italics in :)
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District 1 - Faye Storie

No Entry - No Note - Strike One

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District 2 - Brooklyn Fawkes

"My name is Brooklyn Fawkes, and I will get through the first task." I mutter to my self as the timer counts down. My hand instantly finger the feather sticking out the pocket of the jeans they made us wear. The timer dings and I slowly step off the platform. I walk fast running my hand against the ice maze. It is about 6 feet wide and stretches out as far as the eye can see. I shiver as the cold ice touches my unclothed hand. My body walks forward until I reach a fork in the road. I take a right and start jogging. A song pops into my head and I start humming, unaware of the ice cracking behind me. I hear it and turn around. Nothing pops out, so I'm guessing that they don't me to return, I sigh and keep walking. That's when the device pops out of the ground. It looks like a tennis ball dispenser, but the nozzle is much skinnier. That's when it starts shooting arrows. I doge and duck. One whizzes past my ear, almost slivering it off. One shoots at my chest at a rapid speed. I duck and pick up a clump of snow on the ground. I chuck it at the nozzle, where it hits, clogging up the machine. I sigh in relief and keep moving forward. The ice and snow make the maze look like an ice castle hallway. I walk a little faster, admiring the shine the ice creates as the sun hits it. I look up at the sun. It's about halfway down so I'm guessing it's around 3:30 ish. The shade of blue that the ice makes is so calming, I almost forget I am in the Hunger Games. I start running, not wanting to miss the deadline. Through the next few challenges, they kept getting more challenging. The tasks never challenged me as much as the last on did. I never knew that on the next obstacle I could die. Another fork in the road is ahead and the sun is almost starting to set. My instinct tells me to go left. I step on the ice and instantly regret it. A full on blizzard instantly starts. My feet turn around and guides me the other way, only to be met by a big ice block in the way. I wrap myself in my jacket, and walk in the blizzard. The wind knocks me off my feet. My jacket hood falls off, leaving my head unprotected from the snow pelting my body. I instantly curl up into a ball, hoping to keep my body warm. That's when the ice spears start being thrown. They glisten like glass on a chandelier, except more deadly. The longer I stop moving, the more deadly the spears become. I watch out of the corner of my eye as they glide through the air and hit walls. They snow and ice seem to dance with each other, gliding, twirling elegantly. Then, they find me. It only takes one spear to almost sever me to get me up. I hop onto my feet and join the almost dance with the snow and ice, only I have another motive, to get the hell out of here. My body turns, twists and doges the ice. I smile as the agility career training kicks in. I was one of the only to pursue this, and now it was paying off. I focus on the pattern of the ice release. Every 5 seconds, they released a bigger ice spear than the last. I picked up a ball of snow and threw it at the spear releaser. It soared at the hole, only to be split apart by the next spear, which scraped my calf open. I screamed in pain, as the blood dripped on to the clear ice. I tried to strategize, but the moment was just throwing me off. I had no idea what to do, and the sun was setting. The lavender sky was slowly tinting to a dark purple and I still have to get out of here. I fell down the the floor and instantly though of a penguin. I slid on my stomach. through the spears. The ice flew over my head as I swept past the into the safety of the next hallway. I sighed and limped down the long hall. My legs collapsed, and my hands hit the ice. I shivered from the cold. A small red circle cough my eye. The sky was not pitch black yet, but was getting closer, and would be in a couple minutes. "I will survive, I will survive," I kept telling myself. My hands clawed the cold ice as I struggled to get to the target. I realized that this was the hardest challenge. Surviving. "I, WILL, SURVIVE," I grunted and pulled my body onto the target. "I made it," I gasped and fell to the floor, exhausted, though glad I finally got to the target.

~~~~~~~~~~

District 3 - Glitch Patton

Dropped Out

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District 4 - Quinlan Cyril

The glass tube opened. A huge cold breeze blew right in Quinn's face as he stepped out onto the platform. Quinn was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, so he was freezing cold. In front of Quinn was a path, bordered with crystalline ice. The sun was on its way down towards the horizon. He needs to get to Cornucopia by nightfall.

"Is this the path towards Cornucopia," he asked into nowhere.

No answer. Just he, himself, and him. Oh well, this will be a darn cold walk, He can already feel the coldness creeping upon him like a spider climbing up a pole. He walked slowly down the path, and made a left turn when it was the end of that segment. Quinn felt like he can't walk anymore. He feels lightheaded, probably from hypothermia. Quinn fell down and lied on the ice floor.

Quinn visualizes a light from the sky. One that wasn't the Sun, glowing bright. Then, he observes a man, wearing white ancient clothing with a long beard, on a cloud.

"God," he cried. Quinn actually hated him for how his life was situated, giving him no parental care. But since he may be the only hope to live, he'll listen to him respectively.

"I shall grant you to live by giving you some warm water and clothing. This world needs you," he said. A pink wool coat and a pair of purple long pants appeared next to him with a blue bottle of water that should be warm, which God described. Quinn quickly put on the coat and wore the pants. Then he drank some of the warm water in the bottle. He felt way better now, and he was able to continue his journey into the million ice paths, or probably, an ice maze.

After quite a lot of turns, he took a left. It was a dead end that was blocked with an arrowslit. Otherwise known as a loop hole, it's where arrows are shot in a defense system. Quinn expect arrows out of the hole. Dodging the arrows would be a hard thing to Quinn since all he does in softball is to catch the ball instead of dodging the ball while fielding. What should he do?

As he was thinking, his thoughts were then interrupted by an arrow that was fired from the slit, shooting straight at him. Quinn went out of control, and his body just grabbed the arrow automatically. He was frightened. Another arrow was shot, and he caught it also. This may be an after effect from his love of softball. He imagined this as if it was a softball game. Quinn 'pitched' the 'ball' straight into the hole. The 'ball' hit something. He 'pitched' the other arrow. Blood came out of the slit, which probably indicated that he injured someone. His body told him to run, so he did, in the other direction, a right. This gave a flashback during his seven-year-old, well his mother suffered from the deadly brain cancer. Death was a word that rang in his head, back and forth, as he ran through the maze, until he hit a wall. The impact made him come back into consciousness.

"Ouch," he said. He got up and looked down. A flashlight. He opened it. "No way."

It was an ultraviolet flashlight. The dim, purple light, made a track on the maze glow. Quinn decided to follow the trail of fluorescence. It glowed like neon yellow, and showed a route that hopefully will guide him to the end of the maze. He ran along the line as the Sun started to drop. Quinn got about half an hour until the sun goes beneath the horizon. He scooted along the trail, after many hunts by arrows and falls from the slippery ground, he reached the end of the glowing trace.

Suddenly, ten ice blocks, ten on one side, ten on the other, started closing the path. Quinn needs to be fast as he run in a zigzag. He successfully passed the first fourteen gates until he reached the fifteenth gate, he was trapped. Then on the wall, it showed a question with twos elections.

What is the most fabulous creature of all times?

A)    Unicorns

B)    Nicornus

C)    Unicrons

D)    Nicronus

"Uh, unicorns," he shouted with laughter. The fifteenth and sixteenth gate opened. On the eighteenth gate, another question was shown.

What is the best holiday of the year?

A)    Christmas

B)    New Year

C)    Thanksgiving

D)    Easter

"Um, Christmas," he yelled. The seventeenth and eighteenth door opened. Another question is yet written on the nineteenth gate.

Is these questions silly?

A)    Yes

B)    Maybe

C)    Neutral

D)    No

"Of course! What do you thi­–" Not good. Arrows, again was shot from the sky, as the sky started to dim. He caught them all and shouted, "fine, fine, fine, no!" Apparently that seemed to work and the last two gates were opened. There was still a long path. Quinn ran down the passage, then a left turn at its end. It was a dead end. He walked down the path continuously to make sure there was still a turn left. There weren't any turns. Quinn sat down and cried. He was now trapped in the section.

He took the ammonite fossil out of his pocket, crying. Weirdly, the ammonite fossil shined a spectrum of green, in the shape of an arrow, pointing leftwards.

"Wait a minute, is this wall," he pushed down the wall towards his left. It was not there. He can reach into the wall. "This may be it, the entrance to Cornucopia," he dragged himself into the wall.

~~~~~~~~~~

District 5 - Cymric De Chel

What is family to a boy with none?

"A winter solstice by the peak of a mountain."

What is a son to parents who don't try?

"A cut starfish, bottom of the ocean."

And what is loneliness to someone alone?

"I."

Cymric chuckled to himself, silencing his own voice with a twirl of his finger, as if the index was a magic wand and he was a wizard to the maze. A shiver with no foundation slithered through him, pausing by his heart to take a bite, a chunk, an unnecessary piece of the organ.

Did the heart continue to beat?

"Just like an abusive father after three drinks."

He crossed his arms over his chest with a sag, letting the sleeves crinkle against his skin. He liked the warmth the Capitol had provided from him; he hated that the Capitol was providing for him at all. His eyes fell to a permanent squint, as if the puppeteer had forgotten about his livelihood, letting the strings droop and drop, eyelashes sitting parallel to the ground. The soles of his feet were like victims of some sticky havoc, stuck to his pedestal, mimicking the shock of his mind- his mind was still recuperating from what was in front of him.

A panorama of blues, littered by the disgusting parities of white. He expected the floor to be strictly snow, but it was stiff with ice, a ground that was definite to be slippery. Walls surrounded him, all a brighter shade than the floor, but equally as cold. The sky was a rather spirited color, adorned with puffs of white that gave Cymric and overall feeling of disequilibrium. Nothing matched; it matched too much.

"Like a tiger to its dead brother."

Nightfall was approaching and he had one task. And the task was like a beacon too far out of reach, with so much distance that it became blurry to his incapable vision. Cymric was to run and navigate and hop through a portal when he sucked at directions and had no clue what a portal even was.

Great.

"Perfect for someone like me," Cymric muttered, lifting one foot and setting it on the ice. "What's a lonely little maze to someone who cares more about matching colors than death?"

He paused, allowing stability to come, both legs shaking feebly. He wasn't moving, but the slipperiness was still hankering; he paused.

"It's a sneak peak behind the curtain," he said with no rasp, a monotonous whisper to his tremulous hands. A vein at the tip of his longest finger was like the king, sending the shock wave of demands down his skin, further and further and further, quaking until Cymric picked up his muscles and moved.

Coldness seeped through his weak shoes, toes curling with the pulsations. There was something odd about the temperature, like it was faux, a trick, a con game of the makers to superimpose some other plan. He had his arms raised, fingers stretched to caress the wall lightly for support. Caution was a priority; speed was not.

But slowness irked him. He didn't let it show on his expression, for that was too focused on the path ahead of him. Step, then step, and step...

"I don't even need instructions- skip the warm-up and let's go!" His volume was there, but tonality was not. His voice was on one level, refusing to proceed to the next.

It was as if there was someone watching him, like the cameras had decided his words important and worthy of broadcast. Because directly after his speech, a wall in front of him moved, closing him in. It was suddenly a dead end, there was nowhere to go; there was always somewhere to go.

A hole broke the wall, however, distracting him from moving. Two squares-equidistant from the newly formed corners- appeared like black holes to the icicle barricade. Cymric raised an eyebrow, feeling a rush of wind blow past him, a soft one. Then, it doubled, tripled, grew into a wind that outmatched a strip of embodied tornadoes.

The undersides of his arms were sliced by thin bits of ice, sent from the openings like a cannon, trying their hardest to cause his.

Why was he not afraid?

"Because, at least they matched."

He shrugged as the wall closed in and moved back to its original position. Drops of crimson fell to the ice, moving around like it was a glass composure and the red was just the underscore. The sting was dull, skin already begging to close and become a scar. The throb subsided- at least, in his head- it didn't go away.

He should have been afraid.

Cymric walked with a swifter pace after that, turning corners with a new hope every time, unknowing of the maze's complication. More wounds scratched into his body like he was a sheet of paper and blood was the led required to draw. Holes in the wall shot piercing arrows, all ice, at him from afar; most aimed awry, at his legs or arms, never neck or chest. At least, he was finding the end, the forsaken portal. Where were the other tributes? Where were the others that were supposed to be his killers?

"Away, away, away," he sighed, shoulders slouching. The ice grew to be a commodity, slipperiness not a problem to him. It was amusing to him how quickly he was accustomed to it- it was soon boring.

At this point, he wanted to fear something, to let hastiness and urgency control him and peel back the edges to reveal someone frantic. To be scared of a being meant he was strong enough to feel weak- to fear corrected him.
In his head, he imagined. A monster of the most daring of teeth, wildest of growls and the sloppiest of smirks. Hair became facial wrongdoings and walking was an everyday struggle for this monster, though it always succeeded in a chase. And Cymric imagined this monster for exactly that- a chase.

For the maze itself was too safe, sharpness distilled and prevalent was never life-threatening, nor dangerous. Only wounding. "And I wear wounds like clothing- only when necessary."

Suddenly, adrenaline piped through him, breath serving too many purposes and shortening, overwhelmed. What was once shortcoming was now terrifying to him, as Cymric picked up the pace and went as fast as he could around corners, slipping and abandoning the individual slivers of hope. There was a creature behind him, with lust for a kill. Yet, no footsteps rang out, no shrieks of hoarse depth reverberated against the walls. His body was heated with every bead of sweat, every thump of his feet on the floor, every second that brought nightfall and death nearer.

Cymric created his own fear.

It was knitted and sewn, like a child's plush toy, but more rampaging and large. A killer. The color was vibrant and contrasted the blues strangely, misunderstanding what it meant to blend in. And he ran like it was real, forgetting the boredom and safety from before. The crimson lines that spilled from his skin went astray with the thuds his body made, slapping the ice with an echo.

There was a corner up ahead, his eyes latching on to the way it forgot to curve. The portal was there, too, the handle of an axe situated right before it. He was losing breath, quickly, and he wasn't aware there was no danger.

And he reached it without satisfaction; he felt complete.

What is life to those who have seen death?

"A prize won and unwanted."

What is a path laden, but not taken?

"Regret, and a pile of something else I don't want to mention."

And what is loneliness to someone alone?

"I."

He wasn't understandable, only heard.

~~~~~~~~~~

District 6 - Jasper Solangelo

"You have until nightfall to get to the middle of the maze and go through the portal, where your next challenge awaits. May the odds be ever in your favor!" And the countdown started.
Before anything else, I stole a swift glance at the open sky. Left early morning, seemed to be midday. Good. Then I focused my attention to the task at hand.
I couldn't believe it. There was no Cornucopia, which meant no bloodbath. I was, instead, in a "corridor". It was wide as where we rode through during the chariot rides (which was so embarrassing). The glistening ice lead straight to the middle, I was sure of it, because the portal -I think that's what it was called?- was there.
The direct route there made me suspicious. It was only about forty feet, I'd guess, but it couldn't be that easy.
"Let the 101st Hunger Games...begin!" The announcer boomed. I leaped off my platform, sinking only partway, about four inches, into the snow. Not too bad. I started out tentatively, putting one foot slowly in front of the other, before I realized what a dope I must have looked like, on live television. I walked a bit faster, then tripped.
Such a klutz, aren't I.
That wasn't a question.
My face landed less than a centimeter from a sharp metal spike, cheek barely grazing it.
Jasper Solangelo, age 15, died of stumbling face-first onto a spike.
I trailed my eyes over the thing half-buried in the snow; the spike was connected to a ball that had many more deadly-looking spikes, that was attached to a chain, that was secured to a handle. A mace.
Perfect.
Being from District 6, and though I have more baby fat than muscle, swinging things around was more or less my thing.
However, this being the Hunger Games, black mist enveloped me as soon as I stood up onto my feet. My mind was instantly drained of all thoughts except all the things I didn't want it to be filled with. Horrible, sad memories. Worst of all: Father's true death.
"F-father!" I screeched, running to the train track. My father lay bound to the track, along with some of his drinking friends. This was their fate. Their death. Peacekeepers stood on either side, though at a safe enough distance. A horn blew from not so far away, signaling the train's soon arrival.
He forced his head up and looked at me with a drunken, but still worried, smile. "Son. Don't worry. Everything's fine."
"Wh-what's happening?" I was only the small age of 8, too little to understand this. Father, though still drunk, shooed me away knowingly.
"Go away!" He yelled harshly.
And those were his last words to me, before the train came. I looked away from the blood, blocked my ears from the screams, and ran back home. I never went back to that train track. I never told anyone how he died. All I said was, he never came back from drinking. In a way, it was true.
It replayed in my mind, over and over again. Father's last words caused me to think he hated me, excepted I knew otherwise, now, yet it still left a mark in my insecurity. Other thoughts bantered at me, playing at me, telling me how horrible I was.
They wanted me to crack. I should focus on something good, positive. I stumbled and wobbled side to side, clutching my head, trying to rid of anything bad, which was everything.
"Tell me about the one where I was named!" I shouted eagerly, waiting for one of Father's stories. Only 3 years old, but I remembered it well enough.
He chuckled. "Your mother and I had agreed on naming you Landon, but as soon as we saw your cute little face, we knew it wasn't right. Instead of crying and wailing like all the other babies, you remained happy with a content smile on your face, eyes shut. We called you Jasper, keeper of treasure."
I opened my eyes, realizing I had closed them. The sweet memory made me grin, maybe like when I was born. The dark mist retreated, seeming to make a hissing sound, parting to show me where I was.
A wash of self-doubt swept over me, wiping the smile right off my face. Sure, I was halfway to the middle, but what have they lay ahead, to trip me up again? Trip up...funny use of words, Jasper.
Soon enough, a clear bubble the size of my hand rose up from the snow. I counted to five before it exploded, sending me back a few feet (and let me tell you, that is not an easy thing to accomplish) along with ice chips, embedding into my flesh. Another one, this time to my right, rose up. I quickly backed away as it exploded.
One after another kept appearing, sending me furthur and furthur back, eventually so that I was pressed against the icy wall, behind my platform, ice shards cutting into my face, blood running down, cold spray covering my body. It wasn't until my mace accidentally dropped onto one just by my right foot, the bubble popped, and didn't make any sort of explosion.
Widening my eyes, I striked the next one that appeared, and it also popped. The faster I did this, the faster another one came up, on the direct opposite side, but perhaps a foot forward.
I knew that I must've looked ridiculous. In fact, it foolishly reminded me of an old game that my adoptive mother had; using a plush mallet, you had to hit plastic weasels as soon as they popped up. Moving forward, hands tightly clutching the handle of the mace, which hit side to side, I prevented any bubbles from exploding. The cuts reminded me a little too much of extremely deep paper cuts.
I pressed a palmful of snow onto my face. I knew it was cold, but cold felt good on wounds. When I took my hand, it felt considerably better- so much that I had to take a look on the mirror-like walls. My mouth fell open in shock.
The snow had done more than just soothe. It completely healed the cuts.
I ended up giving in and started to roll around on the ground, in the precious snow, until all my wounds were healed. Apparently, the Gamemakers had some heart- or they didn't realize what the snow could do. I stood up and dusted it off, which on non-injured skin was truly, extremely cold.
And behold! There I was, at the middle- and there was a girl, riding on -what? A gigantic male deer? She flew through the portal, which I hadn't even gotten a proper look at yet. I caught a glimpse of her face, somewhat blistered. Definitely Skye McGill, from District 7.
The animal she was handling, a mutt, I guess, faced me. It looked me in the eye from under the tons of mane, and I almost fell over from nausea. Yeah, certainly not ready to face this creature.
Gulping fresh air, I mentally scolded myself. I must've looked absurd. Then again, if I thought this was absurd, it was probably nothing to rolling around in the snow. Good going, Jasper. The mutt breathed out in a very visible puff of air that immediately melted the snow it made contact with, right to the glinting ice.
Act, don't react.
Something I had learned back at home. When a train comes, don't spring back at the first sight; see if you can cross the tracks and make it home before the train comes. When the bully enters the foster playroom, tell the adult to keep an eye on him, don't wait until he makes you mad.
Kill before you get killed?
So before the thing could knock me down, before it thought to move, I leaped forward, mace swinging deadly, and knocked it hard on the head. Gosh, it was huge. I jumped back quickly as it angrily breathed out toxic air, mostly unfazed by the hit. Then I started hammering it like the ice bomb bubbles, acting instead of reacting.
The skin was immensely resilient, the meat particularly tough. Eventually it went down, breathing heavily, which was more than a bit dangerous. I closed my eyes and brought down the mace, delivering the death blow.
I looked down, not at the mutt, but at my clothes, and could feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. My shirt was half burned away, revealing some of my stomach, chest, and back. Oops.
But the portal was almost directly in front of me. I gave the sky a quick check- approaching nightfall, seemed like. I gaped at the glistening blue waterfall of a portal, enclosed by ivory rock, like the kind in the Justice building. Had detailed black markings, though the meaning of them I didn't know.
I stepped into the portal.

~~~~~~~~~~

District 7 - Logan Silva

No Entry - No Note - Strike One

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District 8 - Logan Krassix

Extension

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District 9 - Theodore Laurent

No Entry - Yes Note - No Strike Cause I'm Nice

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District 10 - Chase Ridd

I was relieved.
    From the moment I was raised up, I felt relieved and thankful. There was no major sunlight, no heat!
    It was a winter wonderland.
    My skin wouldn't get in the way for this Hunger Games.
    Then everything bad came together.
    The announcer said something about reaching the middle, to go through a portal before nightfall, and that we were in a maze. Then the cold hit me. Then, the snow and ice walls. When the countdown reach one, I stepped off.
    Stepped off.
    Not even jumped off, or maybe ran off like some other tributes.
    I take some steps forward before running into an ice wall that was not there a moment before. Blinking, I looked again.
    It wasn't there.
    But I had so very clearly crashed into something.
    I had to keep going though, so I did. It was very confusing; ice walls kept appearing out of nowhere, causing me to crash into them, get a few bruises. And some even stayed there, making me have to go backwards, through another corridor.
    I hated mazes.
    Squawk! Squawk!
    The undeniable sounds of chickens came from behind me. I turned around slowly, facing the not-so-quiet mutts.
    Why were they mutts?
    Well, it was obvious. First of all, each body had three heads. Each head was connected to a long, long neck, but the necks were only half the size of the legs. Basically, these creatures were almost unrecognizable as chickens, but the sound said they were once chickens.
    I sighed. Chickens were the one type of animal I could feed, could hang out with, and now I had to fight them--mutts, yes, but chickens nonetheless.
    There were three, which might've been a small consolation if each only had one head, only three vicious beaks. They squawked again, and I wish they hadn't. The tongues were like a snake's, forked and long.
    Oh, did I forget to mention this? The mutts' crowns on their heads were spikes that lead down their bodies, onto a long, snake-like tail. And the wings? Small dragon wings. Dull gray like slush, with a sharp "nail-claw" on each wing. The eyes glowed pure yellow-white, and I figured out these were dragon-chicken mutts.
Nice.
Not nice, actually.
Because how in the world am I supposed to fight them?
My first thought was, Well, they're all lined up in front of me, not circling me or anything.
Yeah. Karma did its job when two, faster than lightning, darter on either side, so they had me surrounded in a wide triangle. A sudden idea sparked in my brain, and it was so psychotic I decided to try it.
Hey, I'd die anyways, right? Whether it be another tribute or these chicken mutts, I will
die, much against my will.
    To make my plan easier, the two chicken things that darted to the sides of me took flight for no reason, maybe to poop on my head or something. It was a mistake either way.
    The wings flapped them up, but the heads had different ideas; probably only one or two heads of each body wanted to fly, and the other two didn't want to, so they were squabbling in mid-air, snapping and hissing each other.
    The one five yards or so in front of me totally ignored them.
    I ran to the mutt.
    Like I thought, an ice wall appeared out of nowhere, and even though I crashed into it worse than before, it stayed and trapped the chicken-mutt.
    No, wait.
    It didn't stay.
    It disappeared, and there lay a dragon-chicken carcass, eyes closed, squished to death.
    The wall had landed on it.
    I ran and ran, not letting the other mutts catch up to me, though hear them I did, calling in anger. Probably still in flight.
    There was the middle!
    I sprinted as fast as I could in the snow, and didn't even get a good look at the portal before tumbling in.

~~~~~~~~~~

District 11 - Rudy Steiner

Extension

~~~~~~~~~~

District 12 - Louis Witmore

"Come back to me Louis, I'm going to need you. Our baby will need you."

I couldn't even respond to the news that my girlfriend had given me. The guards came in dragging her way and I into a new room. I saw my district partner but I gave her no attention only thinking of the big news. I was going to be a father.

Shaken from my thoughts when I heard the loud voice say the final words.

"May the odds be ever in your favor!"

The first thing I noticed was the huge white walls made of ice. They were everywhere and I knew then that this wasn't going to be some simple puzzle. As soon as the countdown reached zero and I could move from the platform. It was hard to run through all the snow. It was mushy, slowing me down.

I trudged on reaching my first decision. Either straight, right, or left. Looking around I couldn't see over the tall walls. Given the fact that I was already tall as it was. These walls loomed over me giving me no way of seeing which way to go.

I looked up at the dark, but somehow also white sky and took the path that went left.

It was a long way down when I tripped over something and heard a snap. I tried to move but I couldn't. Looking back I saw that my pant leg was stuck on something. I growled bending down and moving the snow.

My eyes widened in shock. It was a trap. No any trap but one of those that people used to capture huge animals in the woods. It was a light blue color but made of metal. It had sharp pointy tips. I realized quickly that if my leg had gotten cut I probably would have bleed out.

I tried to see if something could open it but nothing was around. I sighed you needed a key to open it. I needed to think and quick I was running out of time. I rubbed my head annoyed when I felt something touch my fingers.

A quick grin worked it's way onto my face as I thanked my girlfriend. Sierra liked my hair longer and even though it wasn't that long she always snuck bobby pins into it. It seemed my stylist also put one in. I grabbed it getting to work on the lock. Not even a minute later it opened.

I continued running taking a sharp turn to my right now. It seemed the deeper I went into the maze the darker it got. The colder it felt. I could see my breath as I breathed. The walls also seemed to get thinker and I spoke too soon. I heard a loud thudding noise behind me. The two walls were getting narrow as snow fell through them. They were collapsing. I would soon be a pancake if I didn't move.

I ran as fast as I could (which wasn't much mind you) the snow was too thick but I did manage to make it out of the snow where I slipped. The ground was now sleek and smooth. I groaned in pain when I saw the floor was now ice.

Standing up I noticed three walls around me. They were made of clear ice in which I could see my reflection. I tilted my head seeing the snow on it and shook it off. I wondered what I was supposed to do. I couldn't go back. There was nothing to go back to.

Then something behind me caught my eye.

It was Sierra. Beautiful Sierra and a little baby in her arms. She was waving her hand towards me with the brightest smile i'd ever seen. A goofy one made it's way onto mine as I went towards the other wall. The closer I got the happier I felt. Like I had no worries. Yet the middle wall also made me stop. I saw granny and grandpa on the rocking chairs they loved blowing me kisses and smiling at me.

I heard a crack breaking the images. I looked down to see the cracks on the floor. I cursed in my head I had gotten distracted and put to much weight on the floor. The walls seemed to be closing in on me. Correction. They were closing in on me.

I looked back to where Sierra and my grandparents had been but they were no longer there. I sighed and moved as fast as I could. Making it out I saw two new path ways.

I could go up a flight of stairs or go down.

Taking the chance that just maybe being on higher ground would help. I went up using the hand rails to keep from slipping. I made it up but it seemed the walls only got higher from there.

I looked at the sky the sun was already going down. I knew I only had maybe but a few hours left to make it to the middle and so far it felt like I had done nothing but get further away from my goal.

Screaming lowly I took the path going straight.

Halfway into it I slipped. I had stumbled over something I moaned in anger. I was never going to finish this way. Yet when I turned to see what I slipped on I grinned happily. It seemed to be a small pitchfork. It had two sharp ends made of metal it seemed. It was a small weapon and probably wouldn't even hurt anyone but it was enough to make me feel a little more relaxed.

I snached it up throwing it up a little to see how it tested. With new found hope I continued on my way. I reached took a turn to my right now. I was too busy looking up at the sky seeing how fast it was getting darker that I didn't notice the beast in front of me until I bumped into it.

I gulped when I looked up too see two pointy sharp teeth. It didn't even stop to think before I was pushed against the wall by it's paw.

I groaned now being able to see the huge white mutt. I closed my eyes taking a deep breath trying not to get frustrated but it wasn't working. It had been a long day to have to deal with a gamemakers mutt. It didn't surprise me though.

I should have expected there to be mutts in this place.

'Where would the fun be if there wasn't some blood spilled!' I thought sarcastically in my head. I glared at the beast right in it's black eyes. Yet as I got closer it opened it mouth making a deep roar come out. I nearly vomited at the disgusting breath it had. It smelt of old rotting food, mixed in with a month old dirty laundry and someone who hadn't taken out the trash.

Okay so moving towards it wasn't the way to go. I looked down at my weapon and then back at the mutt. I hummed a thought coming to me. I mean it was stupid and there was a very very high chance I would probably die but I did it any way.

I ran as fast as I could on the sleek ice. I stabbed it right in it's arm. I pulled the weapon out moving as it howled in pain and grabbed its arm. Oddly enough black blood was spilling out. The mutt started licking it's wound and I took my chance to go around it.

I did it efficiently if I did say so myself. I gave myself a pat on the back on my quick thinking.

I saw a bright lights that came in light blue, white, purple, then all together flashing to my right. I looked left to see a dark path where a howl seemed to sound. Yeah I took my chances with the flashing colors rather than the dark gloomy place to my left.

I gave a shout of excitement as I saw the portal on the ground. I had reached the place, having overcome so many obstacles I was nearly skipping.

I needed to get far in these Games.

I had to think of my future son or daughter back at home. Grabbing the promise ring around my neck I jumped on the portal.

~~~~~~~~~~