The Hunger Games had always had rebellion in them, some years, like the second Quarter Quell, were ignored, others, like my Games, were completely destroyed, all tapes burnt, every stylist and prep team murdered, the victor sent away to live in a faraway land, in prison, then in a village, never to return. This is what leads a Game to its destruction. This is how I survived.
The Hunger Games that were never played.
IOur District is divided into eight parts: the poor, the rich, the markets, the wealthy, the newly built victors' village (which wasn't occupied), the factories, the city square and the outskirts, where no one lived nor dared to go. Save me, of course, as the outskirts of the district is where my house, fields and entrance into the woods outside our district are located. The fence is stupid, won't even keep cats in. As I woke up, stood and looked around, I realized what today was. Today was the second annual reaping day, the day I was dreading.
Marching down to the city square of District 5, waiting for the reaping, whilst deep in thought should never be done, as you will trip countless times. These so called peacekeepers punished me for crimes against the Capitol at the end of the rebellion to one of two choices: death or volunteering for the second annual Hunger Games (so… death), which is an annual fight to the death. Obviously, I chose the latter. With my hunting skills, fighting experience, fishing ability, knowledge of edible plants and starvation, it will be quite easy to win. I can even swim.
As I walked into the seventeen year olds section, marked off by rope from the other age sections, the seal of our country, Panem, appeared and we sang the anthem:
Let the world guard the lives,
Of the men of Panem, and of their wives.
Let us be forever grateful,
For every cup and every plateful.
Thank the Capitol for their strength,
Let them rule for a long time length.
And let the hunger games state,
The districts, the Capitol will not each other hate.
It was written three years ago, after they announced the Hunger Games, after the end of the rebellion, when I was fourteen. By then I already fought in the rebellion and nearly died countless times. Oh how I miss the old national anthem…
On the stage of the District Square there was a microphone, behind which stood three chairs, of which one was empty, one occupied by our mayor, the other by a woman from our Capitol, our Capitol representative, named Gurney Trinket and two glass bowls filled with paper slips. The third will not be sat in this year, though.
Large screens in the square showed us ourselves live, but when Gurney stood on the stage, she was the focus of the cameras.
"Welcome, children of District Five, to the second annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour," She stated into the microphone in a squeaky voice, "but before I choose the tributes, I have a short message to show you."
This message explained how five centuries ago, great floods destroyed a place called North America, in the final part of the apocalyptic age, leaving the world in a mess. Yet four hundred years ago, humans gathered and searched the planet for a place to live, this place was least affected.
After centuries of building, they created Panem, a shiny Capitol ringed by thirteen districts. However, twenty-seven years ago, the districts united in a rebellion against the Capitol, which raged on for twenty-four years, killing the president, mayors and many Panem citizens.
But once the Capitol dropped bombs on District thirteen, destroying it completely, the rebellion ended and to remind the districts of the Capitol's power, one boy and one girl from each district will be sent from their district to the Capitol into an arena to fight to the death, until one player remains.
"And now, for the reaping," Gurney Trinket boomed into the microphone, "as usual, ladies first." she dug into the glass bowl on her right, "Iris Ößlat."
Some of the girls in the eighteen year old section parted for Iris to come through. When she came onto the stage, it was clear she didn't care if she died, her mother was killed in the District Thirteen bombings and her father, who was in my army troop, was killed in the Capitol.
"Now for the male tribute," this time, she dug into the glass bowl on her left, took out a single slip of paper and read out the name written on it. "Hydro Lux."
I didn't bother volunteering, that was my name.