A/N

Ok so I've been reading SYOT's for ages and I really love the idea, so I'm going to try one of my own now! I hope you enjoy it, and I can't wait to see your submissions! I'll give you the template for the form at the end. Enjoy! Also, please review I'd love to hear what you think!

...

I awake to the sound of my own screams. The house in victor's village echoes. It's too empty, just me and Ash, my brother, the victor of last years hunger games. He is 19, old enough to live alone in this big empty house, but he took me with him. There is a full 5 year age gap between us, but we are close. I have been elegible for the reaping for 2 years now, and as if Ash being picked last year wasn't traumatic enough, my name is going into the lucky dip along with everyone else's today.

Ash comes into my room, wearing a holey jumper and odd socks. "Are you ok?" He asks. I reply quietly "Yep, I'm fine! It's just, you know, the reaping..."

Ash grimaces. "Yeah, I know." He hugs me and then goes back to bed. I don't blame him. I can see by the pale rays of sun peeping throgh the curtains that it's early. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and flop back into bed. I glance at the pale green dress at the foot of my bed. It has white buttons down the back and a white collar. I love it. I just wish I was wearing it under less terrible circumstances. I close my eyes and burrow under the covers, but sleep is hopeless.

I roll out of bed and take out a small scrappy leather bound sketchbook, my most prized possession. In it, I draw the goldfish bowl that contains the slips of paper that will ruin at least 2 people's lives, if not end at least 1 of them. In it, I draw the slips, 3 of which have my names on.

I take a deep breath, and another, and another. I draw until my fingers ache, until Ash comes knocking, telling me to get changed. I wriggle into my green dress and put on my soft leather boots. Thank god Ash didn't make me wear some fancy uncomfortable shoes! I run out of the house, my feet pounding on the damp stones. I reach the square in minutes, tears pricking my eyes, my breath ragged and my heart pounding like crazy. I breathe in and out, and walk slowly over to the roped off area for 14 year olds. Ash arrives a few minutes later, and gives me a smile and a thumbs up, but his eyes don't twinkle, and I can tell he's nervous.

"Citizens of District 11! Welcome to the reaping for the 37th Annual Hunger Games! As you all know..." The mayor begins the same speech he makes every year, talking about the history of Panem, and the rebellion, and how, as punishment, they put 24 children into an arena to fight to the death. Ash is probably scarred for life. He has nightmares regularly, and I can tell that he isn't happy, but I don't know what to do to help him. He killed a child, a 16 year old, and I know it eats him up inside.

A pastel green haired capitol woman with lilac skin giggles. Eugh. I hate the capitol people, with their clipped high voices, crazy, unnatural colours and especially their excitement to watch children get murdered for sport. She reaches her hand into the glass bowl and rummages around. She grabs hold of a small slip of paper. 5 slips have my name on them. It's so unlikely that the name on that slip is mine! I tell myself.

"And the female tribute of District 11 is..."

I clench my fists.

"Emilia Fern!"

The world spins. I hear Ash screaming, and, as if in a trance, I walk up to the stage, where Ash is waiting. The last victor. He hugs me hard, and I can see a tear on his cheek. But I don't allow myself to cry. I let out a quiet sob, and then gather my thoughts. I am tribute.

Just like Ash was.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

The green haired woman exclaims about how exciting it is, for me to be mentored like my brother. I have to restrain myself from slapping her.

And then: "And the male tribute is..."

I swallow, trying not to cry as the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. I am dragged to the justice building, and I sit on a silky couch with fluffy cushions. My only visitor is Ash. I clamber into his arms, but still refuse myself tears. After 2 minutes of that, a guard comes in. "Get away from her!" He yells. I look up, puzzled. " I don't care if he's your brother, you allowed to see your mentor before the train!"

Ash holds me tight as I finally begin to cry. "Did you not hear me! Out!" The man grabs his wrist. I scream.

Ash punched the peacekeeper in the jaw, and runs back to me. "I love you, remember!" He whispers. The guard shouts again, and, angry at being ignored, brings the barrel of his gun down hard on Ash's head. I scream and cry as my brother, the victor of the 36th Hunger Games, falls to the floor unconscious, blood pooling beneath his head.

...

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