"Fear can turn the greatest of allies against each other. Viewing the other as nothing more than a monster, a risk. This type of fear is only stoked by those who seek control,"
Angelica Hardy, 19 Years Old.
District Two, December 14th
6 Months And 11 Days Until first Reaping
"This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future." The words from our gaunt, fair-haired President hung in the bitter air. Winter was in full swing and the strong winds blew a ghostly white substance under the crooked door. I and my family were forced to seek warmth under a tattered blanket.
The frenzied cheers of the Capitol people faded away until our screen had become black. The only sound left is that of the wailing wind. This allowed the words of President Balis to sink in. We knew punishment would be on its way, we lost the war, it was expected. Yet, no one expected something such as this.
Twenty-four children, a boy, and a girl would be chosen by lottery. These children would then represent their District in a battle to the death. Only one would survive, they would receive all the money they desired. I couldn't believe it. Not yearly at least.
Of course not. It wouldn't work well enough to be an annual event. Just a year ago, the Districts fought side by side, arm in arm, something such as this could not possibly cut those ties. Then again, not doubt Balis had thought of this. Thoughts he would have addressed. There was little doubt they had something up their sleeve to make us fight. Balis' wits were the reason they won, after all.
After minutes of stunned silence, my mother spoke, hooking her arm around my brother and pulling him close. "They can't do that," she tried to keep her voice steady. "Not to our children, they did nothing wrong!" My fourteen-year-old brother buried his heads into my mother's stomach as she brushed her fingers through his dark hair. He never showed emotions, thanks to my father's masculinity. So to see the fear in his brown eyes was unnerving.
I was free of the drawing. Being nineteen, I escaped the age range of eighteen to twelve by a hair. My brother, however, had ended up almost right in the middle of the selection. His name would be entered three times. And his odds only increased with each year of his life, until he was eighteen.
My father crossed his arms, giving a defeated groan. He was never a big advocate for the rebels but since we had lost the war, he couldn't help but wish he had fought. Convinced that he, single-handedly, could have changed the outcome of the event. "They wouldn't dare, there would be another war. A lot of scaremongering, that is all this is."
My brother sniffled, moving his face to look our father in the eye. "I think they are being serious. They are having parties and parades for the events, a lot of money is at stake...why would they lie?" My father didn't answer, turning away from his son, biting his lip.
My brother was right, as much as that pained me to say. They presented it like a sporting event, a fun-loving competition with a big cash prize. In fact, Balis' speech seemingly tried to dodge the talk of death as much as he possibly could. He wanted the games to be viewed in a certain manner. That was why it was called the Hunger Games.
The pieces started to come together, leaving me to feel sick. If they wanted to frighten us, they would have threatened us with such an event. If they wanted to just hurt us once, they would have lined up a number of children from each District and shot them on the spot.
No. The twisted, well-planned reality of the event showed it ran deeper than a punishment. It was a way of controlling us, making sure we never rebelled again.
They wanted to dehumanize us.
Minerva Kane, 30 Years Old.
The Capitol, December 14th
6 Months And 11 Days Until first Reaping
I pierced my lips together as I watched the recap of President Balis' speech. I agreed the Districts needed to be punished but this? It was barbaric. Children did not fight the war, they should not have been involved.
I viewed it the first time in my raincoat, ready to make a run to the farmers market. I was sure my country had lost their minds. My people cheering for the death of children? Then when I made my way to the market, I found the situation was far worse than I had expected.
The people who swarmed the market agreed with my plight, that the games could have at least involved the adults. However, most were willing to turn a blind eye currently. You see, to gain our support during the war, they promised that the Districts would repay on the Capitol's behalf through their hard work. Only now were we seeing the fruits of our loyalty.
The market stalls were awash with bright colours of food and clothing. Not just that, the army had upgraded their personal and transport. For the first time, we had electricity for more than a few hours a day.
"You want to be careful with what you are saying around here," an elderly woman at the market whispered. I followed her extended finger to a small group of Peacekeepers. "They took a young woman off this morning for expressing her thoughts on the matter." The woman could not give me a name or any hint of what might have happened to this woman but it got me thinking.
By the time I picked my children up from school, I was sure the crowd at the President's speech were paid. No one I knew had even heard about tickets to the event. The new goodies from the Capitol were built to distract us, that much was clear. But why?
It was something I wondered on the walk home, right up until my eldest son, Robert, emptied his book bag on the floor.
Out poured dozens of propaganda leaflets on the games, a survival guide, twelve small hard boiled sweet; each imprinted with a District emblem. And, most horrifying of all, tickets to see the parade, every school child received two. One for them and an adult.
That was when it hit me. People my age were a lost cause, too stuck in our ways to ever fully support the games. The children, however, could learn to love it, if taught to.
I would never agree with the games but as I saw my sons fighting, this time pretending to kill each other, I realized it didn't matter if I supported it.
The games had not even begun yet they had the next generation, Presidents, and leaders on their side.
Minerva and Angelica will be given the odd POV throughout the story to show how things are changing in the Capitol. Their birthplaces end up being the biggest supporters of the Games, I thought it would be interesting to look at.
Just to quickly add transparency. I did do another SYOT called Collaboration: 75th Hunger Games. I only removed that because I didn't drum up much interest and got no submissions. Plus it was a bit complicated for my first SYOT so I will do something like this first.
Just a couple of reminders to people submitting with it being the first ever games.
-As you can see from the chapter, the Capitol people even think it is a bit harsh. However, as you can also tell, speaking publicly about the issue doesn't end well. This means that there will be very few people who are vocal to the extremes about their thoughts on the matter. Until they are Reaped at least.
-No one knows what to expect, this means less fear. It will be harder for Tributes to get a grip on the fact they are going to die. Some might be caught of guard when someone does die. Although they were born and grew up in war, does not mean they are used to this sort of killing.
-Because of this, no one will truly be prepared for the Games, they will be caught off guard. Also, no careers. They might have skills from the war but no one had trained for years. Also, just because they was in a war does not mean they can use a bow and arrow, they would most likely be given a gun of sorts.
-No mentors, they are completely on their own.
-The system will still have kinks within it. For example, there will be no training. They don't know they need it yet. It is replaced with something else.
-Tributes will be vetted to an extent to make sure they don't get twenty-four revenge seeking rebels. They know the type of kids they are getting.
-People might volunteer for dumb reasons. Siblings will volunteer for each other, money hungry people and you will see more out District volunteers. Again, they might think the Capitol is bluffing or the reality might not have hit them. People don't volunteer-based off past experiences they have viewed. This batch does not have that luxury.
-Keep in mind that even the Capitol is not even as lavish as it is during the 74th Games. Thee Districts are in a bad state. Twelve doesn't even have the electrical fences up yet. This means that they won't have dyed hair, have electronics, even one. It also means if you submit a transgender Tribute, they will not have had surgery before possible victory.
-Please, no mental illness' other than Autism, ADHD or Anxiety because I don't know about any of these and I fear that my horrid research methods would not help me enough to really represent said illness and character. However, if you do submit a character with one of these mental illnesses' please research it. I have seen a lot of Autistic characters who are the extreme side of Autism. It is a wide spectrum than that.
-No review Tributes, please. I appreciate the submission but it clogs up feedback and puts this story at risk.
-Although I will gladly take on any gender or sexuality, please do not make it their whole personality. These kids were born and raised in war, they know nothing else and now they are in a death game. I don't even class it as a character personality trait. Sexuality and gender should not be expected to carry a character.
I think that is everything! The form is on my profile so feel free to check it out (I hope you do and submit _) let me know your thoughts on this story direction and chapter too!
Thank you!