Disclaimer: The Hunger Games does not belong to me.
Sorry, it's pretty short. Please review and criticize if necessary! SYOT form at the bottom!
The Beginning
If you think your job puts you under pressure, you have no idea what it is like to be Head Gamemaker. You must create a show to dazzle millions of people. Everything must be perfect, and if it is anything but amazing, anything but spectacular, anything but the most incredible thing anyone has ever seen - you are dead. And that's not the worst part. The show you must put on tests your moral values and your emotional health in terrible ways. The show you must put on is a televised fight to the death between twenty-four children called the Hunger Games.
My name is Sasha Parings. I am, most unfortunately, the Head Gamemaker for the 63rd Annual Hunger Games. And my life is on the line.
My stomach churns as I walk towards the office of President Coriolanus Snow. He is the ruthless ruler of Panem, the country that rose from the ashes of what was once North America, and he will stop at nothing to achieve exactly what he wants - even if it means poisoning his allies so they do not become future foes. Now, this is only a rumor, whispered behind the cupped hands of the maids in the Mansion, but many believe it to be true. Many a friend of President Snow had died on mysterious terms. And yet somehow I am still slowly making my way to his quarters.
I open the door. Snow is sitting at his desk, fingers intertwined over the hard wood surface. A teapot, cups, and saucers were set on the desk, and the odor of roses fills the room in an unpleasant way. Snow's surname certainly matches his hair, as it is powdery white. His eyes are cold and snakelike.
"Sasha. Please, sit down." Snow's voice is icy. "Have some tea." He pours a cup and places it on my saucer. I do not drink it.
"Why did you invite me here?" I ask. Snow smiles.
"We will skip the pleasantries, then, if you do not wish to proceed with them." Snow says coolly.
"Go on." I reply.
"Last year's Games were dull. I did not enjoy them, Sasha." Snow stirred his tea with his pinky finger.
"The public loved them." I say, just to be irritable. Snow glares at me.
"They were much too fast. The arena was too small, and too sweltering. Nine of the tributes died from the heat." Snow pointed out. I scowl at him, but he pretends not to notice.
"Well, President, I hope the Games will live up to your standards this year. I have a lot planned." I say.
"They'd better." Snow says. "You know the consequences, Sasha."
"I do indeed." I stand up. "Now, please excuse me. I have the 63rd Annual Hunger Games to plan." And with that I proceed to exit Snow's office.
"Sasha," He calls before I leave the room. I stop. "Do not disappoint me." I leave without speaking. Because I will not.
TRIBUTE FORM
**PM ONLY PLEASE!**
Tribute Name:
Tribute Age:
Top 3 Districts:
Tribute Description (include height, weight, hair [color, length, texture], skin color, eye color):
Tribute Personality (be creative, no one-word answers!):
Family:
Friends:
Reaping Outfit:
Strengths (3):
Weaknesses (3):
Likes (3):
Dislikes (3):
Weapon of Choice:
Tribute Token:
Can this be a bloodbath tribute?:
Preferred Way of Death:
Additional Information:
Thanks! And please, make it creative! And can we please not have a girl who provides for her family, loves her little sister, and volunteers for her when she unexpectedly gets called on? That's already taken.
