Hey Guys... I usually don't like OC fics but i've been thinking of this character for a long time so i started writing, and hey lets see where it goes right? Basically it's about a girl, Karlee, from distict 11 who gets reaped in the 66th hunger games and basically her journey from there. We'll see some familiar faces like Finnick and eventually Katniss and Peter.
Ok so this is my first fic, so forgive my poor writing style, I haven't got a creative bone in my body (im too much of a sciene geek for that 8-) ), so criticism is most definitely welcome, just me patient with me :D
Chapter 1- 61st Annual Hunger Games- Reaping Day
"District 11 is so big, with so many other children, what are the odds of one of us getting reaped?"
That's what we used to say to each other on the day of the repeaing; it used to make us feel better, made us get out of bed in the morning. For a while it was true and we believed it, well that was until one of us did get reaped. I'll never forget that fateful day; it was a boiling hot sunny day, so basically your average day in district 11. Well, that was if you didn't count the fact that today two children will be torn away from their families, to be thrown into an arena against 22 other tributes where only one comes out, the only other alternative is death. I hated the reapings and I hated the hunger games, and I certainly hated the capital with its silly accent and bright colours, who thinks it's so superior that all the rest of the districts have to starve while all the capitalites live in luxury! How is it fair that we are still being punished for something that happened 61 years ago and has no chance of ever happening again…I must stop that, mother tells me that my mouth will get me into trouble one day, and I believe her that's why I only tell my true feelings to my older brother Alec. He's the only one I can rely on, but he's been entered 9 times this year, as he is 14 but has to take out the tesserae. I promised him that as soon as I was old enough I would take it out… yes I'm not even 12 yet so why worry about the reapings right? Well no, because Alec is not my only sibling up for repeaing, my sister is too but luckily she is only being entered three times as she is 13 and Alec would not let her take out the tesserae. Out of the two of them Alec would have more chance of surviving the games, as Arella is a dainty, innocent child that couldn't harm anything even if her life depended on it.
I couldn't stand the fact that I had to stand back, with my parents and watch as my brother and sister went to the front of the square and waited to hear whether they were the ones to be chosen to be slaughtered this year. I feel my fathers work worn hand rest on my shoulder as our escort, Cecily Cassell, pranced across the stage to the microphone and wishes us all a "Happy, happy hunger games! And may the odds ever be in your favour!" Blue must be the new 'in' colour as she was dressed in a shimmering blue dress and her hair (which was clearly a wig) was bright blue, curled into a complicated mass on the top of her head. Her skin was dyed a blue colour with glitter painted over the top, which gave the illusion of waves lapping up her arm, maybe she was trying to become the escort of district 4, the fishing district, where she would have more chance of selecting a winning tribute. As tradition, she walks over to the girls bowl fist and pulls out a tiny slip of paper and reads "the girl tribute for district 11 this year will be…"
…. "Arella Halliway!"
Everything stops. I hear someone shouting and screaming, begging for it not to be true and I vaguely recognise the voice as being my own. I turn to all the other girls in the square, why is none of them volunteering? They must know that Arella has no chance of surviving. Their all cowards, all of them! The sane part of me tries to rationalise, to explain that no one would willingly volunteer for their own death, but at the moment all I see is selfish little girls. I see the whole district as being submissive and cowardly for letting the capital do this to us. Rough and strong arms wrap around me, and begin to drag me away, I try and resist but the strength of the person dragging me is too much. I take one last look at the stage to see my sister pale and shaking, with fear in her eyes, stood next to the boy tribute, whose name I didn't catch, looking very scraggy and feeble and who certainly would not stand a chance of winning against the careers who had been training most of their lives. As I let myself be pulled away realisation washed over me…
…. This year district 11 would not have a winning tribute.