A/N: My fourth fanfiction. Please read and tell me what you think.
January 27th, 2225
One day, I'm going to be famous, the most loved and feared figure in Panem. Me, Coriolanus Snow, famed...what shall I be? President, of course. I will rule Panem. When I am president, I bet I'll find it handy to have a document of my life as an aspiring leader trapped in the body of a ten-year-old nobody. It will certainly come in handy for the biographies. I was pondering this the other day, and decided to start a journal. It's not too late, I'm only ten. If I continue this journal until I am president, everything I do will be documented. There will forever be a record of the unbiased truth.
Let's start with the basics. My name is Coriolanus Snow. I am ten years old. I will be eleven in November. I live in the Capitol. My greatest wish is to become the president. But, unfortunately, I am still well underage, so I have several more years to wait before that dream can be fulfilled. My age, unfortunately, is something I cannot change. But eventually, I will turn eleven, and then twelve, and then thirteen, and eventually I will be able to run for president. But for now, I am ten. Just a child. How I hate that word.
This summer is the twenty-fifth Hunger Games, the first Quarter Quell. No one is sure what it will be like as of yet, but soon, hopefully, once they tell us the rule change, it will be the greatest nightmare of the districts. All the better to keep them in line.
There was mandatory viewing tonight. President Keidon was on the screen, of course. The president is always at the center of everything, the controlling force of the nation. When Panem was created after World War III, the people agreed that they needed a stronger leader, a system where decisions could be made quickly and easily. Today's system certainly conforms to that decision.
"That will be my job one day," I told my father.
"Ambitious, Coriolanus," he responded without turning around. "I'll vote for you." There were amused undertones to his voice, and a streak of anger burned through me.
President Keidon unfolded a paper slip numbered "25". It resembles a reaping slip, a connection that makes me smile. We are playing with the district citizens' minds to no end.
"For the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children are dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district must hold an election and vote on the tributes who are to represent it."
I could imagine the gasps of disbelief, the tears, in the districts. They have to choose their tributes? Ingenious. A perfect way to involve the districts in their own demise. I smiled, shaking my head in delight. One day, I will be able to construct the Quell twists. I cannot wait.
"Pretty nice," Father said. "I can't wait for the Games."
Mother and I nodded in agreement.
Now, I sit here writing this, reflecting on the evening. The districts will be responsible for the deaths of the children, and that will set rivalries between people who thought they were on the same side, especially when it came to the Hunger Games. This, in addition to everything else, will divide the districts.
Analysis of tactics is quite important. I shall use it a lot when I am president, I expect.
A/N: What did you think?