A Pep Talk From A Movie Star, And Other Calamities I Face in the Hunger Games

Authors note: Sorry for the poor formatting in certain places. I am doing this all on a word-processor, not Microsoft Word.

Writing prompt: Write how a certain object may help you in the games.

From the platform I stand on, everything is revealed to me. Even things that I wish would have remained hidden from my sight. The weapons leaning against the grey, ornate building in front of me. Bows, knives, long swords--even strange cloaks and lamps that shimmer in the light. Their purpose, I do not know.

And dogs. Furry creatures that wag their tails when I look at them. Long, silky ears that urge me to stroke in delight. None bark in excitement, but all whine, watching us--watching me--with a concerned expression, heads cocked to one side. Its almost as if they can sense what is about to happen. What will transpire in the next few moments.

Why are they a part of the games? Another reason to torture us, trying to give us something kind and gentle in a world that tears that down? A game that tears down any measure of good?

The sun bears down upon us, lending fiery heat to the already torturous first moments. I look around me. This... This wonder--the forests of dark pine and fir, trees that stand tall, as if in defiance to the boundary of the dome that surrounds them. The cool springs that I hear bubbling with frothy power somewhere behind me. Steam rising off the lush, green grass, disappearing as it drifts away--has all been made by the Capitol to add one more element to the Games. Add a sense of reality to the games. As if we will actually be touching real grass. I know what it really is.

Just another part of the entertainment.

The gong is about to go off now. All the tributes know it. Expect it. Knees bend. Arms pull in. Breath becomes shorter. Hearts beat faster. Eyes focus on the timer.

The timer slowly counting closer to our death.

**************************************************************

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Hunger Games begin!"

GONG!

I don't even have to tell myself to start running. Before I begin to think, my legs are moving. Arms are pumping. I run so fast, my feet tears the ground, throwing grass in all directions. I almost fall twice, but the thought of death helps me keep my stride in check.

Out of my periphal vision, I see other shapes. Human bodies. Figures racing towards the same location. The Cornucopia. Weapons.

Because now we are enemies. Friends no more.

I am not the first one there. By the time I arrive at the Cornucopia, blood has already been scattered on the grass--christening the once beautiful arena a place of death.

A tribute faces me, weapon in hand. The steel blade has already been tainted by death, and hungers for more. It approaches, as if goading me to fight back. To retaliate.

The step that I take in retreat only increases the tribute's level of confidence. His level of arrogence. Even as I fall back--away from his weapon--arms flailing before I hit the ground, my expression changes.

This will not happen to me. Not today.

I kick out, aiming for whatever is closest. My foot glances off his knee cap, and he almost falls, his spear dropping in his hand as he clutches his knee. Anguish is evident in his eyes.

I slowly stand up--kicking him again, but this time at the other knee cap. And he falls to the ground, unable to bear the pain. His spear is on the ground, laying on the grass at my feet. I pick it up and point it at him, raising the spear as if to make the blow. A blow that would end his life.

But as I watch him hold his knees and whimper, I finally see how young he really is. How small he looks on the ground.

And I drop the spear.

**************************************************************

After my decision to leave the bloodbath without staining my hands with the other tribute's blood, I don't even look at the weapons. The backpacks. The lamps--nothing. It all just blends into the background, into what is now a wild rampage of hate. Of destruction.

Just before I leave the arena, something catches my gaze. Something metal, lying on the grass as if it has been dropped by a tribute in their haste to leave the arena. Knowing that I have nothing to protect me out there, I bend down to pick it up. Anything helps.

Its a metal band, about six inches long. One button decorates its front. I gaze at it curiously, turning it over and over, wondering what its purpose is. But then a knife flies through the air, quivering in a tree trunk only a few inches from my face.

I run. Running through the trees, falling down the hills, fording the streams--anything and everything I can do to avoid other tributes.

When I have exhausted myself, I stop to catch my breath.

The band is still in my hand, creating a line where the metal pressed against my flesh. I move it around now. Even though I have no idea what the band is, I don't want to leave it behind. Some other tribute may know its purpose, and I don't want it to fall into their hands.

It looks electronic. Or at least the single button in the center hints towards that. There is no screen or anything else that could further the hunch. Not knowing what else to do, I press the button.

"Hello, and who are you?" A voice comes from the backside of the band, loud and clear. A definite giveaway to my location.

"Could you--"

"My name is Bruce Lee and I am here to give you a pep-talk before you go to your death in a glorious battle that will determine history," the voice interrrupts me.

"Bruce Lee?" I say in complete bewilderment. "Who is Bruce Lee?"

"I consider that an insult, young man," Bruce says. "Behold! I am a fighting legend, the creator of Jeet Kune Do--turned martial arts actor when I became older." He talks so loud that the speakers threaten to blow.

"Can you talk any louder? I am about to die out here. Some quiet would sure be helpful." I glance around me, fearing that someone has already heard the racket. Heard the loud voice that surely carries through the trees.

"Then why are you yelling? If there is one thing that I know, its to speak only as loud as you have to." Bruce is yelling now.

"Would you please be quiet?" I say in exasperation. "How do I turn you off?"

"No, don't do that," he says. His voice sounds panicked. "I have a duty! They told me that you needed someone to coach you, give you a pep-talk. Well, I am proud to say that one of the many things I can do is talk. I can talk about the weather, or merely about the trees if you like. Oh, how cozy it must be where you are at. Now if only they had put a nifty little screen there, I could see what goes on where you are at. Is it cozy and warm? I would like to think so. Of course your definition of cozy and mine might be entirely different. For me, the definition of cozy is beating someone to a bloody pulp while a large audience watches in awe. " He sighs, as if remembering those moments. "Now that is the life! Course I wasn't alwa--"

"Could you just shut up?" I toss the band on the ground beside me. Its useless, and the voice inside will only bring the other tributes closer to me.

"No, I can't shut up. But I can talk quieter if you want." His voice is muffled since it lies face-down on the grass.

"Yes, that would be extremely helpful," I say. Since no other tributes are in sight and I feel in need of something to take my mind away from the games, I turn the band over so I can hear the voice better.

"Now, where were we?"

"The pep-talk?"

"Oh, yes. Of course." I can just tell that he is winding up for another bout of wind-bagging, but I don't stop him. Not yet. He is whispering now, and perhaps he does have some information that could be useful.

"So how much do you exercise, kid?"

"What kind of a question is that? I come from District 1. Of course I exercise. Being fit is my job."

"Hmph. I was one of the strongest men in the world, for my weight. A little bit of exercising won't impress me." He grunts, like he is flexing his muscles as hard as he can. "Strong."

"So what about push-ups? You do push-ups?" He asks, his voice still a low whisper. At least he isn't shouting, even if he does talk too much.

"Of course I do push-ups," I say. "That is the most important exercises out there."

"What about my kind of push-ups?" He grunts again. Apparantly, he enjoys flexing. "You don't get pythons like these from normal girly push-ups."

"Well, what kind of push-up do you do?" The conversation is stupid, incredibly stupid, but it takes my mind away from the bloodbath that I just saw. The death and blood that filled my vision earlier.

"I do thumb push-ups, fully extended," Bruce says. "Try one. You will increase dramatically in strength the very first time you try them. The possibilities are endless. You can run a thousand miles, jump across cliffs, ford deeper streams!"

"All this because I would do thumb push-ups?"

"Well, it might take a few days or so before you get to that point."

A noise to my right pulls me from the conversation, and back into the game. Branches snapping by a big hand, leaves crunching beneath a heavy footfall. Someone is coming.

"Another tribute is coming, Bruce. I gotta go."

"What? Now? Victory is at hand, boy! You have me at your side, a talking genius who knows everything about fighting. And you! You can... You can... Well, there has to be something you can do."

"Shut up." I grab the band, while Bruce continues talking, and begin to run into the woods, going the opposite direction of the tribute. I am not ready to fight anyone. Not yet.

"What are you doing! You could have taken that guy easy! Stop being a sissy and get out there. Victory or death is the only option here, kid. If you don't start acting like more of a man, I'll... Well, I'll figure out something that I can do to you."

"You could stop talking," I manage to say in-between inhaling deep breaths as I run.

"Yeah, but you want me to stop talking," Bruce says. "And I will never stop talking. Ever. All I want to every do is talk. And you need to listen! This stuff is important, kid. Everything that happens afterwards may depend on it. If you don't listen hard, you may--"

I hit the button to turn his voice off even as I run, and drop the band to the forest floor.