English Creative Writing task

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Just a few weeks until the reaping. I can’t wait to be chosen. I’ve been firing arrows into trees, thrusting swords into manikins, beating bags until my fists bleed. I will be quicker than everyone and volunteer before anyone can even raise a hand against me. I will be chosen and I will win these coming up hunger games.

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I had a dream last night. I slit someone’s throat and won the hunger games. I returned to my district and everyone showed respect to me. I will keep training until the day of the games. I will win these games and make this dream a reality.

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My fists are bleeding as I write this. Old scabs from yesterday opening and getting larger. I don’t train around people so that they will be surprised how strong I am when I win the game. I will beat those stupid lower districts tributes to death for being so weak, believing they have a chance to beat me, I’ll show them.

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Tomorrow is the reaping. My mum saw me training this morning. She asked if I was training for the games and when I said yes she became really dull and depressed and just said okay and walked off. She hasn’t said a word since that and it’s the afternoon now. I am not sure what to do now. I have trained so hard for this but now I don’t feel that I should continue. Why?

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I didn’t volunteer. No-one did. But when that bowl was searched for a name. Who’s did it have to be? Mine. I was hoping I could lay low and get out of it to make my mother happy. I am writing this on the train to the capitol. The last thing I have of my mother is the memory of her empty expression as she stood there gazing into the ground as I walked through the large doors after the reaping.

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I have to try please the judges today to help get myself sponsors for the games if I want to survive.

From here on I am writing 10 minutes after what just happened in there. When I got there the two tributes from district one were there. I had to go in forth because I am from district two.

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They finally revealed everyone’s scores. I got a 4, I got a lower score than everyone of the other tributes. I’ll have no one sponsoring me in the arena. I will have to make do with what I get in the arena to survive.

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The arena started roughly an hour ago and already over half of the other tributes are dead. I ran off as fast as I could into the rocky, mountainous terrain. As I write this I am hiding in a cave behind a waterfall. I will finish writing this and go look for food so that I won’t be low on energy when someone attacks me.

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It’s night now. Earlier, I went back to the start to look for supplies and I picked up this backpack. I have a sword and a throwing knife on me. I killed a mountain goat and caught some salmon higher up in the gorge. I should watch out for bears and the remaining tributes.

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A tribute chased me through the rocks at the top of this mountain I am sitting on right now. I threw them down the gorge. Their screams are still buzzing in my ears. Is this what it’s like to be in the games? Is this fair? Is this really keeping order? I think its driving us into a revolution.

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5 tributes left. 3 days since the games started and there’s only 5 of us left. I saw a bear rip at a tributes throat just a few minutes ago. I was up a tree scouting the geography of the arena and a girl screamed as a bear’s claws slashed her throat. 19 tributes dead. I want to get out of here before I become one of those 23 dead tributes at the end.

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Right now I am sitting under a bush eating blueberries. I see a tribute in the distance, I should hide.

I was just attacked by 2 teamed tributes. I killed them both but I have cuts and slashes all over my body. I am getting dizzy, I feel my warm blood covering my body. I am going to stop writing soon. I will throw myself into this gorge and end this suffering, I will hold this diary close to me for my mother. If you find this diary please return it to my mother, I love you mom. End

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