FROM THE ASHES: The 74th Hunger Games
May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favour.
"Citizens of the Capitol, report to the Justice Building for an announcement from your President, Coin." An intercom blared into our luxurious classroom. Obediently, we rise from our plush chairs and follow our teacher, Mrs. Octave, her face a mask of fear and grief, into the Capitol's streets paved with gold.
Our eyes are met with oblivion.
Rebel pods are realising unspeakable atrocities into the crowds, the street is thick with entrails and gore as grotesque mutts sink their fangs into the mess, distracted as we sprint past their colossal feast. Our once majestic buildings are now piles of ash, swarming with the putrid remains of our friends. As I reach the Justice Building, the first undamaged building I've seen since I left school and began the arrowing journey to our destination. Now, when I say "Our"... I gaze around frantically through the crowd searching for a familiar face. Not one. Just as a lump arrives in my throat, the Capitol seal appears on a screen. Claudius Templesmith is projected in front of my hazy eyes, Greeted by a few empty cheers of the crowd, he begins to speak. I notice his skin is a ghastly pale colour, decorated in gory cuts and bruises. "The rebels..." I mutter, fury spreading through my slight frame. They are supposed to stand for peace, justice for tributes like little Rue – a new beginning of hope for Panem. Yet, they're hypocrites. They brutally murder Snow and parade his mutilated frail body to the world, and now this. I swear, if I ever get my hands on a rebel I'll...
Claudius's shocking words bring me to attention. "As you all know, Snow is dead. Coin is now Panem's leader and wishes to broadcast a live meeting of the surviving victors of the Hunger Games. I don't know what it is about but lets see, eh?" He attempts a smile, yet is unable to hide his desperation and terror. The screen cuts to the forgotten District 13. A dismal concrete room, brimming with the murderous, victorious tributes and our latest tyrant, Coin staring into our shattered souls, her amber eyes mischievous and unforgiving. Images flash on the screen – all the dead children, previous tributes... every single one. I recognise few, Maysilee Donner, a District 12 tribute, the 1st to wear the Mockingjay pin – now the symbol of the rebellion, Rue, the girl from last year, just 12, a spear was thrust into her delicate body, sucking life from her body. I cried when she died... the Games are supposed to entertain yet it is sick and sadistic. I hate it – what kind of human would watch its children be murdered, for fun? Coin purrs like a cat as she delivers her words. "You have made the streets run thick with our children's blood. You ave pined for their deaths and laughed at our struggles, sucking little joy we had, turned us into your slaves. 75 years!" She's screaming her words now, filled with passion. "It ends today! Now its your turn!"
We look at each other, fearful of her cryptic message. "Your turn..." We whisper, clinging to total strangers, united by grief. "Your turn," Coin booms, filled with wrath, "To fight in the Games!"
"Oh, god..." People are collapsing, their bodies appear lifeless. "Tomorrow," The Mockingjay is speaking now, "There will be a reaping. There are 12 boroughs in your city. 1 boy and 1 girl will be selected from each borough to fight to the death – last man standing. The whole event will be televised, complete with interviews." She gives a twisted smile, her words spat from her acid tongue. "Happy Hunger Games." The screen cuts back to the flashing dead tributes and burning districts as a haunting voice over proclaims:
"We are the rebels.
We will not forgive,
We will not forget.
Expect us."