I never understood how she could be better than me. Perfect in every way, though we shared the same face. My twin sister was everything I wish I could be. Not that I was struggling with my own life. I had great grades, several friends, and never had trouble getting boy’s attention. But no matter what I did, she was better.

I idolized her, envied her, and was so fascinated with everything she did. Her boyfriend was captain of the football team and she had tons of friends. I never cared about perfection, until she became the center of attention. I don’t have to be better than her, but I wouldn’t be outshone.

She took obsessive care of her long, shiny hair, and was an expert at makeup, doing her nails and dressing nice even for school. I realized I could do that too. I just had to put in the effort.

When I wanted to go back to the way we were as kids, she was thrilled to help me. I grew out my hair to match hers, shopped at the same high end brands she loved, and learned to match her in every way. We began spending more time together, and I learned more about her hobbies and interests. We had grown apart as we got older, but now we were closer than ever. She even helped get a boyfriend on the football team, but he was nothing compared to hers.

After the accident, everything changed. It was strange to see my face in the casket, to see my name engraved on the gravestone. It almost made me sad, having my a part of my life disappear forever. But when her boyfriend pulled me close, and whispered “It will be okay,” I knew it was worth it.

All that glitters is not gold. All that’s gray is not dust. All that’s rusted is not old. All that reigns is not just.

All snakes do not slither. All songbirds do not fly. Not all arrows leave the quiver, racing up towards the sky.

Not all traitors carry guilt. Not all singers have a stage. Not all lovers really love. And sometimes love turns to rage.

All betrayals are not heartfelt And with it heartbreak brings. But in the end it’s not over Until the mockingjay sings.

June fifteenth. The words echo in my head, in a haunting chant, chilling me to the bone.

The date had been haunting my nightmares for months, and I had no idea why. Haunting, scratching voices whispering it from behind, as gruesome images appeared before me. A knife flashing in a blur of silver, a pool of fresh crimson blood, a white rose laid on a grave.

I had told no one. It had been eating me alive, and I dreaded the date, sure I had seen some kind of warning. I would simply sit in my room with the doors locked, and try not to get murdered.

But it wasn’t so easy.

It was my best friend, Carrie’s, sixteenth birthday on June fifteenth and she was throwing a huge party. Of course, she invited me. I tried to decline, but she begged me, and how could I turn her down? So here I am, in a room packed with teenagers, knowing I am about to die.

Carrie and a couple of my other friends have tried to get me to join the party, but I told them all I wasn’t feeling well, and went to sit alone on a kitchen stool, sweaty and nervous. Glimpses of the horrible dreams flood my head, filled with screaming, splatters of blood, and the sickening sound of a knife piercing flesh.

My head hurts, and my vision is blackening on the edges. I’m panicking. Slowly I pull myself off the stool, gripping the counter so hard my knuckles turn white. The world spins before me, and I want to throw up. I go to get a glass of water, when I see it before me. A long sharp, kitchen knife, facing directly towards me.

I react before I even look to see who’s holding it. “DON’T COME NEAR ME!” I yell, just as the song playing in the background ends. “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

I look up to see the startled face of Carrie’s mom, holding a kitchen knife and a birthday cake. Carrie had made her way over, behind her mom, and everyone nearby had turned to stare. “Sara, what-“ Carrie began, as I burst into tears. “I’m sorry!” I sobbed. “I’m sorry, I just-“

Then it happened. In a blur of movement, Carrie crumpled to the ground, utter shock on her face, as a streak of sliver disappeared behind her. “CARRIE!” I cried, diving towards her, her eyes rolling back in her head. Around us, utter confusion breaks out, some screaming, crying, running off, or pushing to get closer. In the confusion, a figure dressed in black darted out before anyone could stop them.

Carrie’s mom and I clutched onto Carrie, as blood pooled out around and her eyes fluttered closed. Shrieks came from the crowd of high schoolers standing around us.

The nightmares were not about me. For months, I had been watching my best friend die.

Roses are red, Violets are blue. You said I love you, I had loved you too.

But the roses wither The violets fall You gave me nothing; I gave you it all.

The roses, they droop. The violets, they fade. You showed me your love With a tarp and spade.

The roses are ash. The violets are burning. Way down in the earth I’m restlessly turning.

Now the roses are dead, The violets are dying. Though I can’t escape, I will not stop trying.

No roses now grow On my lonesome grave. Bringing you vengeance Is all that I crave.

Roses are red, The color of blood. I’ll drag you with me To this pit of mud.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. You brought me this fate. Now I’ll seal yours too.

Ciara buried her face in her pillow, willing the tears not to come. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t cry. She would be brave.

It was unbearable. The girl let out a gut-wrenching sob and allowed the tears to flow. Her life would never be the same and she knew it. Her days of running barefoot through the open valleys surrounding the city without a care in the world were long gone. For now she, a girl of only ten, was to rule a kingdom.

“I shan’t do it!” She exclaimed to herself tearfully. “No matter what they say to me!” But she knew it wasn’t true and before the hour was up she would be standing on a stage in front of all ten kingdoms, having a crown placed upon her head.

The girl ran her fingers along the smooth satin dress, crisp and sleeveless, far to mature for her. She inspected her appearance in the mirror, trying to wipe away the tear stains. Layer upon layer of makeup had been painted onto her face. She looked like she could of been thirty.

“Queen Ciara Rosalind!” A stern voice called from the elegantly carved door of her chambers. The door swung open and Ciara’s mother stepped in. “Oh what have you done, Ciara? I leave you alone for one second and you’ve smudged your pretty little face.” The woman began delicately dabbing away the tears, then presented a pile of dainty pink flowers.

“Hold still, girl, so I can weave these into your hair.” She clutched the child’s golden braids, each pinned into a loop around her ears, and began putting in the flowers. Ciara groaned, but her mother only pulled harder.

“Mother, why must I go out on the stage? Can’t someone else be Queen?” Her mother sighed, yanking her hair more vigorously. “You know, Ciara, that a child must rule. It is not up to us. But we have worked very hard to get you this position, and you must take it seriously.”

“But I can’t rule! I can’t lead a kingdom! I don’t want to!”

“Hush Ciara! Quit your whining, your about to be crowned Queen and they won’t handle your tantrums. You don’t have to worry about ruling, your father and I will make all the big decisions for you. You just have to look pretty and say what we tell you.”

It was at that moment that Ciara knew, that children really weren’t the ones ruling. It was their parents. That she was just to be a symbol, a distraction, a decoy, from who was really pulling the strings. A puppet, that’s what they wanted her to be, and being a stubborn little girl, she wasn’t putting up with that.

She turned and smiled sweetly at her mother. “Yes ma’am. That seems easy enough.” Her mother raised her eyebrows, surprised at this change in attitude. “Alright, Ciara. We’re going to go over what you will say…”

Only thirty minutes later, Ciara stepped up on stage, flowers in her hair, dress flowing behind her, defiant glare on her face. She caught her mother’s eye for a brief moment and saw her mouth, “smile!”, but ignored her. She walked along the shimmering golden carpet onto the stage where nine other children, ages ranging from eight to fifteen, sat looking at her, expressions blank.

They began the vows, which were easy enough, and Ciara simply nodded and said “I do.” Then came time for her part. Ciara through down her cards, tilted her chin up in defiance, and began the speech.

Crash after crash sounded, buildings shattering to the pavement, flames flickering against the starless night sky.

A city destroyed. Demolished. Captured.

The ships buzzed through the air, shining lights over the city set ablaze. The foreigners from the vast regions of outer space, come to take the planet for themselves.

For months they had taken any major cities, ridding them of all human life, and inhabiting them themselves. They seemed to feed on chaos, burning, wrecking, stealing.

Chaos followed whenever they went, and as the population dwindled, fear turned to terror.

But this night, as the city fell to ashes, a child hid in the rubble. Not a human child. No, a child of the terrorists that had taken earth for their own. A little blue ball in the wreckage of where a building had once stood.

A woman, hiding nearby, saw this and rushed to help, mistaking the child for one of her own kind. But she was surprised to see the girl’s grey-blue skin and silvery violet hair, and scales running down her body.

She looked up and faced the woman, gazing with hollow black eyes that seemed empty, though her face crinkled with sadness and fear. The woman stared back in wonder, never having seen one of the creatures up close before.

Slowly, she walked towards the child, crouching so as not to be seen by the spotlights overhead. “Hello dear,” she said carefully, hoping the girl wouldn’t attack. “Are you alright?”

The girl’s lip trembled, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. “They left me. They left me here,” She said in a odd accent, the words sound foreign and strange. The woman kneeled down by the child. “Who left you?” She pointed to the ships circling overhead. “Them?”

She nodded her small blue head, her eyes tearing up. The woman placed a gentle hand on the girl’s knee. “What your name?” She was quiet for a moment. “Zeia,” she said finally. “I’m Myra”, the woman said, shifted to avoid a cluster of flames that had formed by her feet. “We need to find somewhere safe. Will you come with me?”

The girl nodded, placing her little hand uncertainty in Myra’s. “Are they going to hurt us?” She asked, glancing up into the air. “Hopefully not. We have to be careful.”

Then the woman and alien both headed away, hand in hand, through the chaos. The woman didn’t know how much pain and hurt the girl would cause her. How much destruction. How, long from then, the girl would turn on her, leading to her brutal murder. How, though she was just a child, the girl craved destruction and violence, being born into on evil, vicious race, and could feel no love or empathy.

But for then, together in that awful moment, with the city falling around them, the woman believed that she was doing the right thing, saving the innocent girl from death. But that act, out of the goodness of her hearth, would bring her own demise.

I sobbed into the pillow, not knowing if I was crying for myself, or what I had done.

I was selfish. Horrible. Everything I touched I broke.

I killed a man.

Everything had shattered as soon as I pulled the trigger. I was a murderer.

Keep it together, I scolded myself. No one needs to know. It wasn’t you. You know nothing about it.

But it was only a matter of time before I would break under the weight of guilt and deception.

“Natalie?” A soft voice asked from the door. “Is it alright if I come in?”

I would rather see anyone else. Anyone. Not her.

The sweet, innocent soul who had stood by me in everything; forgiving me through the hardest part of my life.

I hated her, for no reason at all. I hated myself. I hated the man I had shot. I hated everyone.

“Nat? Are you okay? I can leave if-“

“No. It’s alright.”

I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth.

“Natalie, what’s wrong? What happened?”

I sat up, my eyes red, mascara tinted tears trailing down my face.

“I- Oh, I screwed up so much. My life is ruined.”

I’m was thinking about my life, not the life I had took. I was so selfish. I didn’t deserve love.

She was silently reached over and put a hand on my shoulder.

“I killed him. It was me.”

“What? Killed who?! Nat, you can’t be serious.”

“Martin. I killed him. He- he-“

I again burst into hysterics, and not for him. The stupid, cruel boy who she cared about so much. Who she obsessed over since we were small. Who she loved. Who I killed.

“He was beating up my little sister. She came home crying everyday. I had to fix it.”

“So you killed him?! You know I would do anything for you, Nat, but this is to far.”

She was tearing up, for that stupid, awful boy. Her stupid boyfriend. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve anything.

“I knew I would regret it if I didn’t say it right now.”

“No. This to far. To far. You shouldn’t have done that. It’s not going to stay hidden, and you know it.”

“Are you going to tell someone? He deserved it. It’s me you should care about.”

“Really, Nat? Really? You know what, yes, I am going to tell someone. You’re messed up. I’m sorry, but you can’t get away with this.”

“No. You not telling anyone.”

I moved towards the door.

“Nat? What are you doing?”

My eyes stung. “Your not telling.”

“What?”

I grabbed the gun on the dresser, hidden by a pile of clothes.

“Nat, please. I won’t tell. Please-“

Tears pouring town my face, I pulled the trigger.

On my best friend.

What have I done?

On the darkest day Of the darkest year A spiraling tower Will appear.

Shooting up out of The vast rocky ground, A place where no man Is around.

Windows all shattered, Walls all torn apart, Through long empty halls Spirits dart.

No light shines inside This dark, haunted place That’s rid of all the Human race.

Flowers bloom and daisies sprout The willow wands sway about. The birds whisper their spring songs For the earth to dance along.

Then comes summer to end spring; And sun shines on everything. Long warm days are filled with fun While we play under the sun.

And soon leaves begin to fall In shades of red, orange and all A cool breeze fills the crisp air, And days pass by without a care.

Though soon snow blankets the ground Snowflakes fall without a sound. The world shimmers a pure white From fun filled days to cold nights.

But spring will come once again. Snow melts and flowers come in. The world is covered in green And earths beauty can be seen.

The man stared up at the palace, gleaming with the purest of whites, the sun lighting it up so that it looked surreal. It towered over him in a way that made it look powerful and fierce, yet safe and welcoming at the same time. It was so close but the he was unable to get across the cliff onto the pathway.

After a nine day journey he had hit a dead end. There was only one other way to the castle, but that was a dangerous, narrow path that he had avoided, and the man didn’t have enough supplies to turn around and head down that road. He stood there for a moment, considering whether to call out for help, when a large figure swooped out of the sky and headed towards him.

Seconds later, a beautiful bird almost his height stood in front of him. It had shiny black feathers tinted a deep royal purple and intense violet eyes that studied him with a fierce expression. “Traveler, why do you stand here with no purpose? Has not your king commanded you to come?” It asked with a sharp, female voice that sounded almost like the faint tinkling of bells.

“I come here because the king requested all able men in the nearby lands to serve his army, but, as you can see, I’m not able to get across this fallen bridge.” He said, trying not look look into her intimidating eyes. She regarded him haughtily. “Then why do you linger here pointlessly instead of turning around?”

The man wasn’t sure what to say. “Er, well, I was hoping you could help me get across,” he said sheepishly. The bird clacked her beak impatiently. “I am not your private ferry, nor a bird of service. Do not ask me to fix your own mistakes.” The man nodded apologetically. “Then how must I enter the castle?”

“Turn back, fool, for those who enter the kingdom of heaven do not take the wide easy path to destruction, but risk the hard narrow path to eternity with their king. The king only needs brave knights who are willing to suffer and work hard for him.” The bird said, ruffling her dark feathers.

And the man turned back disappointed, knowing he had failed his duty and would not be able to enter the kingdom. He had scarcely any supplies and dangers lurked in the long journey ahead of him. If only he had chosen the narrow path.