You are standing in the town square of your District while the Effie version of whatever District you live in is about to pick out the names of the two Tributes for the 55th Annual Hunger Games (only because if I make it the 76th, it would contradict with what has actually happened in the books).
You name is read out.
Continue.
*reads blog post*
ReplyDelete*arches eyebrows*
*reads it again*
*furrows eyebrows*
No.
District One was in charge of luxury items for the Capitol. On the day of the Reaping, I was fiddling with a necklace, commenting on how sparkly it was, when my mother told me I had to go to the square.
ReplyDelete"Huh?"
"You're twelve, remember? Twelve to eighteen year olds have their name put in."
I pursed my lips. "Well FINE then." I put the necklace in the tangle of jewellery I'd managed to steal over the years, and put my favourite raincoat on. Which happened to be my only raincoat. I sprinted out of the house to the square, nearly slipping on the wet ground, until I reached the square. I went through all the stuff you have to do, and waited in the crowd of kids, sucking on my finger, which was stinging slightly. While I waited, I thought about how I had slowly become addicted to mandarines over the length of a year. My excuse would have been that I was nervous about the Reaping, but I made it quite clear that I had completely forgotten.
Unlike some, my life was pretty comfortable. Yes, the Hunger Games were unfair, but I lived with it. Because there were always volunteers in District One, it was no big deal if your name was drawn. So when I heard my name being called out, I didn't cry. I didn't go nuts, I didn't try to be brave. Because there was no need to. I strolled up to the where I was called and patiently waited for a female volunteer.
And waited.
And waited.
"...Damn you." And with that, I trudged off, flanked by assorted rich people, and that was the beginning of my probable end.
My last words were something along the lines of, "Did I not say I came in peace?"
I couldn't have said it better myself.
DeleteSehr gut Eve.
I'm already writing a story for HG
ReplyDeleteI should start one...
DeleteIzz, what does that mean?
ReplyDeleteI'm gonna have to change it a little...
ReplyDeleteThe District 2 square was crowded. I joined the line of fourteen year old girls and waited. Please be me, please be me.
"Heather Smith." came Saraena's voice.
The girl was pulled out of the line, she didn't want to be in the Games. Traitor. I longed to be in the Games and to be a Peacekeeper.
I stepped forward. "I volunteer." I said. All of the older kids smirked. Thy thought I wouldn't win. I'd show them.
I took my place on the stage and waited. Soon I would show everyone.
The silence that ran through the distrct square was deftening.
ReplyDeleteMy name was called and I was only slightly chocked.
My name was in there a least a bazzilion times, so I had to have expected this. My family was one of the stupidest ones in district 4, but I can't say that's stressing it enough.
Naturally they had no idea why they were getting all that grain for "free," but had loads of fun bathing in it, using it as confetti, pranking the neighbours, and even just plain throwing at people. Because my family loves giving to the needy.
Anyway, basically I, being amazing, went to the Hunger Games playing in this huge desert waste land, and cut down everyone in my path with absolutly no pity or savour.
My advantage was that I had gone longer than two days with no food or water, and nobody else had a family dumb enough to forget to feed their son. The games were over in fourty minutes, and I got a sweet house house and a baby sister named Frindle.
She's really cute, but I doubt she'll last long living with my family, so I set her free and hopefully she's found a comfortable life living with a pack of cheetahs or something.
*in my life! gone long than that IN MY LIFE
Delete