Aloysius Honeycutt | gm

Dear Gamemaker Survey Committee,

His hand hovers over the page, unsure of what else to write. He is supposed to feel grateful. Supposed to gush about what an honor it is to wear the title and bathe under the attention of a Gamemaker. He's supposed to say he doesn't deserve it, that the long nights at school and even longer years working as an intern haven't prepared him for this task and that he'll do his best. But he is prepared and he isn't grateful, he's tired.

Aloysius sets his pen down and stares at the expensive stationary. It was a gift along with the letter announcing his new job. Twenty four pretty little envelopes, with matching letter paper to seal inside. All of them are a cream color and in black ink in looping cursive at the top it reads:

A. Honeycutt Gamemaker of the 89th Hunger Games

He doesn't know how to thank them or even if he should.

He wants to do it. He wants to prove himself worthy of the title. He wants to make something that everyone will remember and the Capitol will enjoy. He wants to take a kid from the districts and make them immortal.

But there's a lethargy in his bones and a sluggishness about his mind. It's in the way his fingers ache when he hold the pen and his vision blurs staring at the paper. He's tired. He's worked for this for so long but he's exhausted.

He's been chasing this for so long and now that he has it, what does he do with it?

Aloysius takes up his pen and ignores the pain in his joints as he scribbles down the rest of his letter.

Thank you for the opportunity. You won't be disappointed.

Aloysius K. Honeycutt