Peeta's Story- The Hunger Games

Chapter 28

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Before I know it, I feel the familiar sensation of falling into nothing, an empty space void of reason.

I stride down a long hallway, so dark I can barely see my feet. I grope along the walls, hoping for an exit out of this twisted version of reality, but fate is not so kind as to give me a way out. The darkness envelops me eagerly, surrounding me and suffocating me, swirling around in a mass of black matter. The air is so dense now that it seems to be filled with dancing shapes. The figures that haunt me look at me leeringly in the air; first my mother's anguished face, then my father's silent tears. Before I can reach out and touch them, however, they disappear into nothingness, a blank stretch of darkness, and I move on.

Finally, I see it. A blinking beacon in the middle of this sea of turmoil, a small flicker of light that seems oceans away from where I am. I clamber toward it, tripping over thin air and running as fast as I can. The images I see in the air still encircle me, but I try to ignore them, for they are just figments of my imagination. However, no matter how hard I try to push these hallucinations away, they are still there, hiding in the midst of my subconscious.

Finally, I arrive at the source of light, stopping to take a breath. My breathing is hitched and there is a searing pain in my chest, as if I have just scaled a mountain. Although the light is inches away from me, seeping through a crack in a doorway, it is dim and foggy, filtered by the dense darkness.

I take a deep breath and push the door open. It is heavy and it seems to be rusty, creaking as it opens. As I see what is inside, I gasp in wonder at the sight of beauty in front of me. In contrast with the emptiness in which I stand, the room is a giant, open meadow, the tall, willowy grass whispering in the warm wind. The scent of flowers wafts over to me and I breathe in deeply as I step foot into this haven, smiling in content as I see the blue jays circling the sky. Everything seems perfect here, too perfect, with the gorgeous grasslands and neat little rows of trees that bear colorful fruits of all different colors. As I look at the small orchard, a silvery haze appears, shimmering in the light and reflecting the sun off of its many facets. It seems to be a hurricane of neither substance nor light, an endless swirl of magic. As I stare at it, it slowly condenses and changes color, finally changing shape into the the beautiful image of her, Katniss, the girl I love.

This girl in front of me is not entirely solid, her body quivering with every breath of the wind, glittering eerily. Although she is even more beautiful than the real Katniss, with her shimmering aura, she also possess a sense of mysterious foreboding. I want to touch her, to see how real she is, but my conscience warns against it, for it senses evil somewhere in the depths of this mysterious, gorgeous being. I walk towards her, my hand stretched out in front of me, entranced, until my fingertips are centimeters from her, grazing the little flecks of light that border the edge of her skin. I feel a strange pull, a strange desire to touch her, to see if she is real or not, and without thinking, I stick my finger through her as she gives me a sad smile and slowly crumbles to dust.

The roots of my soul seem to disintegrate as she disappears and I am overcome with a gut-wrenching pain of sadness, falling to the ground in a distraught heap, before noticing the shadow that is now looming above me. I look up, and to my surprise, the dust, all that remains of that fake Katniss, is swirling again, faster and faster. I watch it hopefully, wanting to feel at peace again and see the face of the girl I love, but instead of taking her shape, the dust takes a much less pleasurable form, that of Clove.

Unlike Katniss, this Clove does not shimmer, but seems to be forever surrounded by grit-colored dust. She leers are me with dirty, yellowed teeth. "Appearances can be deceiving, eh?" She grins maliciously as she leans back, taking a deep, rattling breath, and lifts up a knife. She points it directly at me when something shakes me.