Hello everyone! This is my first fanfiction, and I would really appreciate your support! Any reviews and ratings will be taken in and I will try to improve my writing as much as possible, and upload chapters frequently. Have any ideas for characters competing in the games? Send me their profiles and I will add them in for you, on top of giving you a shout out! All districts apart from 12 are still available, but be quick, they won't stick around for long. Thank you
Leah Michelson, 16
My eyes snap open as I feel a cold trickle of water run down my back. I groan, and hear a giggle as someone scampers away. "I'll get you next time," I mumble, to no one in particular. Climbing out of bed, I shrug on my jacket and step into my canvas pants, fixing my brown hair back into a pony tail. Pulling on my boots, I walk sleepily into the kitchen and sit down at the table, where a plate of stale bread and water has been set. April, my twelve year old sister, sits down at the table opposite me, with a cheeky grin still plastered to her face. "Good morning!" she giggles. I don't understand how she could be so happy on the day of the Reaping. After all, it's the first year that she is eligible and I remember being freaked out when I was that age, exactly four years ago.
As if she read my mind, April screws up her face, avoiding looking in my eyes. "Mum told me she would be back in an hour, to get us ready for the Reaping. She's down in the bakery helping Dad get all the work done before midday." I had guessed so much. I live in a family of bakers. Our bread is well known for its quality, and we have a good business here in district 12, although it means that we don't see Mum and Dad very much during the day. April and I try to help out with baking the bread, and I have to admit, slugging around sacks of flour and kneading dough for hours has helped me build up my strength.
This year will be the 36th annual Hunger Games, and my name has been entered 4 times. Since we have plenty of stale, old bread that is not suitable to sell, it is unnecessary for my sister and I to take tesserae. Others are not so lucky, some having entered their name over 40 times. The odds are not in their favour.
Ethon May, 17
I walk into our small, shabby house, taking care to take my shoes off at the front door. In my hand I hold basket containing six measly eggs, making sure that they don't break. As I set the basket on the kitchen table, I am greeted by my eight year old brother. "Tip me upside down!" he demands, and giggles as I pick him up by his feet and dangle him above the floor. As I put him down gently, I notice my mother watching us with a worried look on her face. "Can you talk to Abbey," she asks, "she's panicking again, just like last year." Of course, this is Abbey's second reaping and she has been worrying for several weeks now.
I walk into the sleeping room and embrace my sister. "Abbey, you are as safe as possible without having taken any tesserae. There are thousands of names in that pot, there is no need to worry." My assurances do little to persuade her that there was almost no chance that her name would be chosen, but as I go in for another try, I am interrupted by my two eleven year old twin brothers. "Mum is treating us to eggs because of the reaping, and she said to tell you to come eat before they go cold," they chirp. I give Abbey a final hug, before following the boys into the other room.
I am seventeen, and have taken out forty-two tesserae for my family of seven. We are poor, as my father died of a disease when I was thirteen, and I have had to support the family ever since. I do what I can, trading my wood carvings and the cheese Abbey makes from our goat's milk in the Hob, but we have to take out tesserae to get through the year without starving. The odds are not in my favour this year.