Psst. Hello to all tiny green inch-worms inching across backyard pools, unusually warm weather, classic rock songs, and aliens from galaxies far, far away…
I’ll explain the italics and the ‘psst’– just have patience. The reason I haven’t blogged for so long is so incredibly simple, you’ll be amazed you haven’t thought of it– I have, naturally, jumped between worlds, and found myself in a certain post-apocalyptic, divided-into-thirteen-districts-but-one-of-them’s-secret world– which is the decimated North America of the future, known as Panem.
So– the italics? They mean I’m talking into a tape-recorder, not writing on a computer screen like usual. The ‘psst’ was because I’m actually talking into a tape-recorder at the top of a tree. It’s a very big tree– good thing, too, because there’s murderous children and genetically modified scorpions down there– and I have to be very quiet. It’s actually a nice day, if a ‘day’ it can be called, since I’m actually in an a very large arena. Never mind that I’m in the book-world of the Hunger Games. So how is it possible? The specifics are mighty blurry. One minute, I’m Onceabasementdog, notorious hermit-girl, writer, blogger, and master of obscure blog posts. The next, I find myself in District 11, (you know– the one Rue was from– I recall there being trees and stuff in that one, and honestly, I never liked District 12 very much). More specifically, I find myself at a certain Reaping ceremony– and then, in the space of a moment, I am the unwilling tribute of a horrifying, bloody, disturbing game. And let’s be honest here– I’m not really very good at spearing innocent children, so instead of participating in the gore-fest down below, as I said, I’ve taken refuge up here in a tree.
It’s kind of different than my usual posts, you notice– I know. Sorry about that. I’ll get back to the regular things once I become the sole victor among twenty-four chosen tributes– or, the rules become changed and we ‘star-crossed lovers’ are crowned the victors instead, and then, later on, I become the figurehead of a rebellion that sweeps through the districts…
But anyway. I should add how I actually got this tape-recorder I’m recording my latest post in– for all you Hunger Games fanatics who realize you can’t bring anything into the Arena– well, actually, I picked it up at the Cornucopia. Yeah– there was a tape recorder at the Cornucopia. So?
Anyway, I’ll get back to the normal stuff next time. If I survive, of course. Root for me! I’m no Katniss, granted– I’m too sensitive to roast squirrels and I crack under pressure, so– well, I could be the heroine in a nice, easy-going, fluffy story about kind-hearted werewolves– or something.
Yours truly! (I sure hope those scorpions can’t climb trees!) Onceabasementdog.