The First Annual Hunger Games - Brianna Varelo
Authors Note: Hello! So this is my first Fan Fiction and I'm really excited! I write for fun, and I thought it would be nice to share some of my work with you :) Please review so that I know how I can improve. I have another chapter, but I'm waiting to see if people actually read this so that I know whether to carry on or not. I've spent a long time writing this, but I really enjoy doing it! I hope you guys enjoy reading it too! Thank you!
Disclaimer: I do not own the story 'The Hunger Games', just the characters :)
Chapter One
Today is the day of the reaping. I don't really know what to expect to be honest… After the war the Capitol managed to settle everybody down, and to show us who's in charge, they decided to host an event called 'The Hunger Games' once every year, which will be shown on everyone's televisions around the country. Sort of like a reality TV show to entertain the residents of the Capitol. That's ironic, since no one from the Capitol will actually partake in The Hunger Games, they will just be the viewers. I despise the Capitol; their ridiculous outfits and their stupid accents. They should all go to hell. Especially President Snow. I would never admit it out loud though, because if anyone heard I would most likely be executed immediately.
We haven't been told every single detail, but I pretty much know the how it works. There will be a name draw, with every name of every kid aged twelve to eighteen and two will be picked out from each district (a boy and a girl). The poor kids from places like district 12 are allowed to put their names in multiple times, and when they do this the Capitol reward them with one years' worth of food. Being from district 2, me and my older sister, Zara, will not be needing to do that. Then again, pretty much none of the kids from here will, since most of us are rich. Our district is really lucky, actually. Due to our loyalty to the Capitol during the rebellion, we have been given better treatment and living conditions, which cannot be said for some other districts. I also know that all twenty four of the tributes will be fighting to the death in a large arena, cut off from the rest of society, until there is one person left, who will be crowned as victor. The victor will spend the rest of their lives showered with gifts and glory, and surprisingly, everyone sees this as the best reward imaginable. Yet I do not. Horrific memories of brutally murdering other innocent children would be permanently imprinted on their brain, and would haunt their dreams forever. To me, winning seems more like a punishment than a prize. It depends on how far you are prepared to go in order to survive.
Since one year ago, when President Snow announced the Capitols decision to hold 'The Hunger Games', my parents have paid a great deal for intense weaponry and self-defence training. Most of the kids from where I'm from have too, and I've heard that kids from districts 1 and 4 are doing this as well. All our parents are paranoid that we'll get picked, so they want to make sure were fully prepared if we do. In fact, my father works making weapons, so he got his hands on one rather easily. This means that I also have the option to practice in my free time – not that I like doing it. I hate it. I get the shivers whenever I feel the cool metal in my hands, I feel like even holding the weapons are dangerous.
I even heard that some people are excited for the games, and have been training hard, so that when they are maximum age for taking part, in a few years, they can volunteer… for fun. I find that sick to be honest. It is one thing killing someone out of desperation, but to murder people just for your own enjoyment is disgusting. Although knowing how to fight will give me an advantage during the games, it will not help if I'm faced with a large, 18 year old guy, though… especially if they are a career. That is the nickname we have adopted since people in our district began training, and other districts are beginning to fear us quite a lot, which is not a bad thing, I guess.
My alarm goes off, reminding me that it is six o'clock and I need to get up. I slowly pull myself out of my large, four poster bed and hobble over to my bathroom. I look into the mirror and see a skinny, 15 year old girl, with long, wavy brown hair staring back at me. I am average high, with a narrow build and absolutely no muscles what so ever. If I'm going to be completely honest with myself, I would stand no chance in the games if I got chosen, despite the fact that I am rather handy with weapons. "Brianna!" My mother calls from downstairs, "Are you up? We need to leave for the reaping in an hour."
"Yes mother, I know." I reply to her as I hop into the shower. I feel the boiling hot water start to spray on my back, but I don't care. All I can think about is the reaping, and what would happen if I got chosen. How long would I last? A day? An hour? Maybe not even a few minutes… Even if I didn't die straight away, how would I get food? I know how to make basic traps for rats and squirrels, but that's about it. During the war I had to learn things like that in order to survive. My parents and sister became ill, so it was down to me to find food for the family. It was not easy but I managed, and now I've taken away a few skills with me from that terrible time. My older sister, Zara, who is eighteen, would have a much higher chance of survival than me during the games, as she is strong and tougher than me. If I got picked she would definitely volunteer to take my place. I know she would… wouldn't she? I look at the clock on the wall and realize that I have been standing in the shower for 15 minutes, doing nothing. I hastily step out and grab the towel next to me to dry myself with.
Once I am fully dried I turn to my large wardrobe and start deciding on clothes to wear. What kind of attire is required at an occasion like this? I'm assuming formal, so I sift through all of my elegant dresses. I'm not really a dress kind of person. You would have thought that I would love dressing up in posh clothes, going to my parent's rich friend's house parties, but I don't. I feel unnatural in them, like I shouldn't be wearing them. I was quite young when the war broke out, and most of the time I was wearing dirty rags as a poor excuse for clothes, living on the street. I feel a stab of guilt inside of me when I remember my best friend, Jett. He would help me scavenger for food for our families, and we were really close. Closer than I am to any of my 'friends' at school. When the Capitol finally regained control of the country again, he was sent to the poorest district of all: District 12. It's not fair. How come I have been blessed with wealth and he has been sent to the slums District… I remember what I'm meant to be doing and I open my creaky wardrobe door. I find a suitable dress that I like, and pull it over my head. It is velvet blue, knee length and has a white lace collar. I pin my fringe to the side, out of my face, and apply a tiny bit of mascara. I could almost pass as pretty. Maybe.
"Oh, you look beautiful Brianna." My mother says proudly as I walk into the kitchen. I strongly disagree with her, but there is no point arguing back. I do not want to quarrel with any of my family today. Just in case. Just in case this is the last time I see them. The thought stings me inside. I love my family too much to lose them, and the guilt would be overwhelming if the last words I exchanged with them were spiteful. My mother is sitting at the table devouring her breakfast. She eats excessively when she is nervous or stressed (you would never be able to tell - she is skinnier than me!), and right now I think that is the reason she is eating such great amounts. I see a plate of scrambled eggs waiting for me on the table as well. I don't feel like eating right now. I feel a bit sick, actually. I just keep reassuring myself that me and Zara will be fine. I sigh and perch myself on the stool as I begin to ingest in the food slowly. Even if I am not hungry, I have learnt to appreciate all the food that I am given, since in the war we were all starving, getting no more than a slice of bread most days or if we were lucky a cooked rat. You never realize how easy your life is until something disastrous happens, and then it is too late. That is why I now am fully grateful for everything that I am given, because I never know when I will lose it.
So thank you for reading! Please review to tell me what you think! And follow the story if you want to know more! Thanks again! :)