Okay... This is my first fanfiction so please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed! Hope you enjoy...
I woke to the sound of Ivy, our family dog, scratching at my bedroom door. Rolling over in my sleep flung an arm around my sister, Olivia, and buried myself deeper within the covers, beckoning for sleep to reclaim me. Today was the day of the reaping, a rare occasion when work was cancelled for the day, as a result, the village was quiet, only the hushed tones of sleep penetrating the silence. After tossing restlessly for three quarters of an hour, I finally accepted my lack of slumber. Carefully disentangling myself from Olivia, I weaved through the beds of my siblings and mother, padding softly into the kitchen. Once there I plucked I bowl from the squeaky glass cupboard and filled it with grain and milk. After rummaging around in the drawers as soundlessly as I could for a spoon I slipped outside into the frosting morning air. As I had neglected a coat, my teeth chattered as I slowly spooned the warm grain into my mouth. While the milk allowed it to slide down my throat, it was still tasteless, and it was so thin I had to swallow several times if I planned on depositing it into my stomach. Staring soundlessly out the window I permit my thoughts to wonder, I allow myself to think about things that I usually keep locked in a box and six feet under in the world of my mind. This year is the 275th annual Hunger Games, 212 years the third quarter quell, and the Mockingjay. In the year of the 75th Hunger Games the districts rebelled, and overtook the capital. The freedom only lasted twelve years. The day after the Mockingjay, and the face of our rebellion gave birth to her second child the remnants of the capital murdered her in front of her own children. After that it only took them 7 months to resume power, and announce the 76th hunger games. To the children of the capital this is history, past, nothing. To the districts, it is a legend. In her place. The secret inferno of the districts. In her place. Every action we do in her place. In thanks of the twelve years of freedom. In her place. The legacy of Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire.
Engulfed in thought I allowed the gentle fingers of mind to carry me further into the deep, dark places that dragged me down. The history of Panem.
Back when Katniss was alive, and Snow was President, their were only 12 districts, well, 13 if you count the rebels. Today there are 19 fully functioning districts, after the capital fell, there was a mass increase in the population of Panem. The districts no longer feared for potential children. The capital no longer had the responsibility. Fifty-nine years ago President Isis created districts fourteen to nineteen. Creating not only jobs, but space. My district, 17, is the district of the arts. Instead of producing goods, we produce talent, and entertainment. Dancers, actors, singers, musicians, and artists are trained and shipped off to the capital to perform for their citizens. While I loved my district, and being on stage gave always gave me a thrill, I still resented it. In the other districts, they have something of an advantage when it comes to the Hunger Games. In eleven they learn to climb, in four to throw a trident, even nineteen has an advantage, as bear hunters they can be the most vicious killers in the games. But here in seventeen nothing is useful, my element is dance, and I cant exactly pirouette my opponents to death.
Removing myself from the tangle that is my thoughts I skip inside with a dancers grace. Clunking my bowl into the skin I run upstairs to awake my family. My twelve year old twin sisters, Aletta, and Callie, both cellists, are curled around each other. My mother, a singer, has her arm over my nine-year old brother, Alvin, born artists, whose body is nestled into hers. Finally, Olivia, who is only six years old has rolled herself up into a tiny ball, and is tapping out piano rhythms in her sleep. My perfect family, who sleeps to peacefully, is a stabbing reminder of my missing father, who died when Olivia was only six months old. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't sick. He just died. A pianist, like Olivia, he died in a car accident on his way to work. Pushing these thoughts back into my head I shake Olivia awake and whisper in her ear. Giggling in agreement to my plan she slips out of bed and runs to collect her tambourine from the kitchen. When she returns I count to three on my fingers and begin my serenade. Singing a song my mother taught me as a child, Olivia rings the tambourine tunelessly. Upon awaking to the terrible noise of my voice does not seem to agree with Aletta, who jumps out of bed and tackles me to the floor. I laugh.
"About time you got out bed, you sleepy head."
Shaking her head climbed off me, and informed me that ,
"You could have spared my eardrums, Noelle," and poked her tongue out. Its true. I am the only non-musical member of our family. Even Alvin can play the harp. Pulling myself up of the ground I come face to face with my mother. Her face is pale with worry. At 16, my name has been entered in the draw four times. The twins each have the name in once. We are all as safe as it gets. Still. The Hunger Games is not something to be taken lightly, I wrap my arms around my mother in a fragile embrace. I know today will be a test not only for my sisters and I, but one for her as well. And even if one of us is selected, she will not even be allowed to break down. She must remain strong for my siblings. For that is the job of a mother.
"Don't worry," I whisper in her ear.
"I don't know how," she spoke back. Pulling her tighter I try and pull myself together. I must not break down either. The twins will look to me for comfort, if I am calm, then hopefully, hopefully, so will they. Releasing my mother I scuttle into the bath, which Callie has just vacated. As I scrub myself clean, the twins chatter aimlessly about what they will wear. Eventually, Aletta decides on a pale yellow dress and small white shoes, and Callie on a green blouse and a white skirt. When my skin had been rubbed raw, and my hair and nails were clean, I stumbled back into the bedrooms. The largest room. In our house, we have only three rooms. The bedroom, which contains three cots, and the bath. The kitchen, and our small studio, which houses all the family instruments, an easel for Alvin, and mirrors and a barre for myself. Before I can even start looking for the white dress I had planned to wear, my mother had already intercepted, passing me a beautiful red dress and a pair of blue shoes. I am stunned. They are brand new.
"Mum!" I cry, about to scold her for wasting money on such material possessions.
"Ellie," she interrupts, "if your reaped, if, heaven forbid, you go to the capital..." she is choking back tears,
"Shhhh, its okay. We will be fine, I am not going anywhere." She nods her head, but I can tell she doesn't believe me. I can see it in her eyes.
I hope you all enjoyed! Please review... :D