Hello all. I am a new user to Fanfiction, but have read many beloved stories. I decided it was time to pick up my own keyboard and make my "contribution to society". I guess, with out further ado, my first fanfic… (sorry for any typos or spelling errors. No flames please.)
Rising…Rising… All I could think was that I might never see my district again. You see, I'm from district 4, and I was selected to be in the Hunger Games. I lived a pleasant life there, with Suzie, my sister, (or Suze as we called her) and my mother. Dad got sunk by a rough storm, but I have to be strong for my family.
I joined up with some fishermen to make my living. As my dad always said, "Darren, you gotta make the most with what you got.". Well, what we got is fish. But, now here I am, about to either kill 23 other kids, or die trying. The person I'm saving for last is either the boy from 11 or that sweet district 8 girl. Robert (the district 11 boy) was beating up Julia (that girl from 8). I stood up for her and apparently got a definite arrow in my back, or so Robert says. So I gotta take him down.
Supposedly, I'm a carrer tribute. If I am, then I'm gonna be the first to get killed. I didn't make a very good impression by accidentally knocking out the girl from 1. Oh well, that's how the Panem cookie crumbles. But, here I am, listening to the clock ticking down, telling you my life story. It's best to be fully aware of my surroundings before I die.
The clock stops, yet I start. Running. Not away, but towards. Towards the golden tip of the cornucopia, already feeling the glow of the treasures that await within. Slowly peering in, I realize I'm the first to , I see it. A highly decorated great sword, with my name all over it (figuratively, of course.). A small boy, no older than 13, stumbles in. Being at the strong age of 15, I make quick use of him. Oh, come on. Don't give me that look. You have to be ruthless to survive.
As I step outside, I take a second to bask in the rays of the fake sun the Gamemakers created. Yet, it's not too long before I start running again. I was always a good runner back home, scurrying all across the Blue Clipper, the ship I worked on. Then, out of nowhere, there is a sharp stinging in my back. I reach around in the darkness, feeling for a way to get out. I've been shot. In the back. With an arrow. One thing comes to my mind as I slip out of consciousness. " Oh the irony."
Well, what did you think? Please reply or comment or whatever you people do. There will be more chapters, if I get the time, so exspect to see our good friend Darren again. Peace out my brothas from otha mothas an sistas from different mistas!