20 years after Katniss Everdeen first entered the arena. The rebellion after the 75th Hunger Games (the Mockingjay Rebellion) was short lived, and rebels were soon repressed. This sotry follows 15 year old Paisley Calamanco through the 94th Hunger Games! I do not own the Hunger Games.

Chapter 1: A New Nightmare

A tall hulky boy stands above me, laughing. The blade once in his hand is buried in my chest. Slowly I black out, the boy's cackle resounding in my ears.

I bolt up with a start, and try to calm myself after realizing that it was just a dream...a terrible, horrific dream, but still a dream. The sun peeks into my window- breaking me from my deep thought and introducing me to a new nightmare...the reaping. I drag myself out of bed, reluctant to start the day. 'At least it will take my mind off the Reapings.' I thought. I almost convinced myself.

Just then I hear a knock on my door. Armure, my older brother, peeks his head in; his gray eyes shine.

"You're going to wear THAT!?" He says as he nods to my woolen blue dress.

"What you don't like it!?" I ask.

"It's horrendous." I smack him upside the head as he laughs at my frustration. "Wear this instead" he says and hands me a box wrapped in fine paper. I hold my breath, imagining what could be inside. I remind myself to breath as I rip the paper to shreds. A beautiful purple dress lies in the box; it must have cost him a fortune.

"Oh it's beautiful!" I say as I hold the silky dress up, "Thank you so much!"

Later I climb down the flights of shaky stairs. My brother and I live on the top floor of an outdated apartment, but it's no penthouse, that's for sure. Soon we arrive at the town square; we're early, so there is barely anyone here. I part from my brother and head to the 15 year old section. Since my brother's last reaping was four years ago he stays in the back to watch.

After a half hour went by, Azalia, our escort, strutted to the microphone. "Hello HELLO! Ladies and gentlemen! It is a delight to welcome you to the 94th annual Hunger Games!" Her voice irritating me. Then the mayor precedes to give yet another boring speech, following by the Dark Days video, and then the Mockingjay Rebellion video. After the rebels and, dare I say, Katniss Everdeen were repressed the Games became even more intense. President Raini says that it's because there's only 11 districts (district 12 was destroyed at the end of the 75th hunger games...and you know what happened to district 13), but we all know that the real reason is to tell everyone's who's boss.

The video ends and Azalia strides up to the microphone again. "The female tribute for the 94th hunger games is!..." She reaches into the bowl and snatches a slip of paper, "Paisley Calamanco!"

The crowd parts before me like the sea of Israel and I force my feet to shuffle forward. As I reach the platform I swallow, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. "The male tribute is...Jacquared Gingham!" I barely hear her. My eyes scan the crowd and lock onto my brother's eyes. He gives a slight nod and a tear slides down my cheek.

After an unenthusiastic cheer from the crowd we are whisked into the town hall. The Peacekeepers shove me into a closet of a room that looks like it hasn't been dusted since the Dark Days.

The door swings open and Heather walks in. "You have one minute," the Peacekeeper growls and slams the door behind him. Heather is my only friend, since Sash was reaped two years ago. Heather hugs me tight, her tears wetting my dress. I feel more sorry for her than me at this point; I'm leaving her friendless and mourning for her only companions. She lets go of me and opens the door, but turns and flashes me a sad smile. And then she is gone.

Armure comes next. As he hugs me I realize that I'm shaking. "You can do this," he says. I nod my head. "Think straight and train hard," and then he is gone. I put my face in my hand, my brown hair falling in front of it. My brother won't have a family after I leave...and if it hurts to leave Heather alone, leaving my brother kills me.

No one else comes. My mother was killed when I was little, and my father hung himself because of it. We were left to fend for ourselves. My father was never the loving type. Frankly I don't know if I should even call him father.

In the middle of my decision the Peacekeepers come and get me. At the tracks await a sleek silver train, and herd of camera men holding all sorts of equipment. I take one last look at district 8, my home, and board the train.

This is my very first fanfic! Please review! Comments, questions, concerns, hate mail, all that good stuff! : )