The 100th Annual Hunger Games ; by ForEverdeen88
This year's Quarter Quell will be a reminder of the generosity that the Capitol has for our districts. Tributes will be reaped out of an existing pool of fallen tributes from previous games, and will be revived to once again fight to the death. The victor will bath in riches, along with a new chance at returning home to their families.
Chapter 1 ;
. . . . . A blinding white light is all I can see, and my eyes are suddenly burning in my skull. I wince, breathing in air so heavily that I can feel my ribs creak in my chest. I suddenly feel like I'm drowning in oxygen, and I gag on it, before my entire body suddenly feels numb with pain. I can't move. I'm strapped so tightly to a metal table, that not a muscle in my body can budge from that position. It hurts, it hurts so badly that I try to let out a scream, but no sound can even escape because I'm too weak to force it out. My eyes still clenched shut, I feel as if I've died and gone to hell... Although, maybe I have. There's a silhouette coming into my vision when I open my eyes again. A man, with a syringe in his hand. When he touched me, my entire body ripples in a stinging pain that makes tears pool up in my eyelids.
. . . . . That's when I suddenly begin to remember. My name is Glimmer, and the last thing I can remember was being chased by thousands of deadly tracker jackers. I was in the Hunger Games. I had fallen in love with a boy. He left me there to die; and I almost did. When I started to remember is when the pain became more familiar. The bumps on my skin were swollen from the poison of the stings I had gotten when I had passed out in the games. I don't know how long ago it was, but it seems like it was only just moments ago. Perhaps I never died, and they fished me out not knowing? Or perhaps I'm the victor, and now I'm laying in the hospital of the Capitol. Maybe I'm going home. My thoughts and confusion were suddenly cut off, when I felt an icy cold needle enter my arm, followed by burning hot fluid. I was knocked unconscious within seconds.
. . . . . When I awake, I find myself in a much more comfortable place than I was before. Instead of being strapped into a cold metal table, I'm wrapped up in warm blankets with a pillow underneath my head. My vision is blurry, and it feels as if my ears are clogged up, blocking out every bit of ambient sound in the room. When I sit up, I immediately regret it, because a shocking head ache takes my breath away for a moment. It goes away rather quickly, although my vision still hasn't cleared. I look around the room, trying to get my bearings. For a moment I think I'm trapped inside a box, with reflective walls and no windows or doors to be seen. I feel like there's eyes watching me somewhere, and after scanning the room again in fright, I realize that they're probably behind the glass where I can't get to them. It must be a side effect of almost dying in the games, to wake up and act as if life itself is teetering on a cliff.
The wall suddenly makes an odd noise, and the pressure in my ears unclog immediately after as if the box had been compressing the air on itself. Although my ears are better, my eyes are still out of focus. I'm taken aback when the wall literally sinks into the floor like a doorway. A man walks in, wearing a perfectly clean white doctor's coat. His dark purple hair is greased back in an odd fashion, and he wears a medical instrument around his neck. "Glimmer," he says. Hearing my name is like a breath of fresh air for some odd reason, although my entire body is tensed up in fear of whoever this is. I open my mouth to speak to him, but my vocal chords won't work. "Welcome back." He says, as I clasp my hands over my throat, as if it'd make them work again. "It's okay, you're just experiencing some trauma from being brought back." Brought back? He must mean from the games. "You should be able to talk again within the next few days, as you settle back into your body again." At least that was good news.
. . . . . After about an hour of asking many yes and no questions about how I felt, and how I'm recovering, he took on a more serious facial expression. "Well Glimmer, I have something I need to talk to you about. Do you remember what the Hunger Games are?" He asks, and I nod my head with a look that implies that he's stupid. How could I forget what the Hunger Games are? How could anyone forget? "Well I'm supposed to be the one to inform you, that you died twenty-six years ago." For a moment, I'm convinced that he's kidding. I didn't die, I blacked out after the tracker jacker attack. I'm alive, and I'm the victor. "This year is the year of the 100th annual Hunger Games. It's a quarter quell, and you were reaped as the female tribute from District 1." I have no idea what he's even talking about. "You were revived to be apart of the games, but don't worry, you'll go through training again in order to get prepared." This is some kind of cruel joke, and suddenly, I'm angry about it.
Pouncing forward on my bed, with nothing but my fingernails as weapons, I grip onto his face. I dig my claws in, before pummeling him onto the floor with all my strength. He has a syringe to put me back to sleep, but I knock it out of his hand, making it shatter on the wall. He suddenly yells for help, as I strike at his face. Two nurses run in momentarily, hoisting me off the man and throwing me up against the wall. I'm suddenly pinned there, and I realize how crazy I probably looked. Wearing nothing but a hospital gown, with a crazy eye and messy hair, they probably see me as some psycho mental patient. I'm squirming hard enough that I let out the first noise I've been able to make since I woke up for the first time. It sounded odd, like a deranged animal being held against it's will... Maybe thats what I am.
Author's Note ;
I originally started this story on my old account, Valkyrie550. I hadn't used it in a long time, but people really enjoyed the concept of this story, so I decided to rewrite it here. I hope you guys enjoy the new version as much as you enjoyed the old version. c: