My parents have told me a little about the' Hunger Games'. I have heard stories, rumours, legends, that sort of thing. I am congratulated sometimes, by the older residents, something about my mother and father, how brave they were, how they saved the country, but I never really understood, I asked but mum doesn't like to talk about it, not until I am older. We live in a nice place, a small town called the victors village, surrounded by what looks like the ruins of another village like ours. Of course we are banned from anywhere outside the square, but that doesn't bother us. After school, I, Finn, Olivia, Emily, Sam and Jamie are free to roam the small alley that only the six of us know about, we call it the tube, a short cut to the vast green forest spread out over hills that seem to go on forever. This is where we sit, climb, and laugh. This is where we are truly liberated from the smog filled air looming over our homes, radiating a constant feel of unease
These are the only people that understand me, all our parents are the same, drunk, unreachable, lost. We are all burdened with the oppressing stench of grief that seems to constantly choke us despite our naïve ignorance to the tragedies of the past. I suppose this only made our situation more likely, these cases always do. But they are not to blame, no. we have the Hounds to thank for that.
