I breathe in the oily, foul air as I stand in front of the wooden counter and hand over a few coins. In this particular area of District 5, where all the stores are, it always has the putrid stench of oil and sweat in the air. "Anything else, Cassia?" The gray-haired shopkeeper smiled at me with her empty mouth, devoid of teeth, and hands me the cloth I had come for. "I think that's all," I reply. Turning on the heels of my ratty old sneakers, I leave the market and head away from the Square, trotting towards my home where there is clean air and a much more joyful atmosphere. Nodding my head curtly to our head Peacekeeper, Lucia Greysmith, I continue to stride towards my family's shack. Ducking under a small clump of trees, I glance around to make sure no one has followed me. A grin spreads across my face. Perfect.

I put my hand out and separate a large patch of bushes and ram through the small leaves, entering upon a small dirt path outlined with thick trees. Small, brightly colored flowers had poked their delicate heads through the ground and are littering the path. I swoop down and pull up a few, to make small bouquets for my 6-year-old sisters, Cyra and Felicia. Both have bright, green eyes and shining blonde hair and birthmarks the shapes of hearts on their feet. Cyra is a bull in a china shop; always flying into things, always running, always tripping, and Felicia… Felicia, she is as delicate and sweet as a flower. We have nicknamed her Chia – sweet and short just as she. Cyra is known as Cy. And I am just me – Cassia. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple.

I have come to the end of the tiny path, and I start to lift away some small branches from low-growing trees and bushes when I stop. Leaves and grass on the ground are rustling behind me. I can't afford to be seen on this path because it's, well – illegal. Nobody is allowed here. But I take special circumstances to make a shorter path for home because otherwise it would take me an hour tops to get home if I took that route. And, to tell the wholesome truth, there is always a rotting carcass of some animal around that path. I whirl around and my hand goes to my pants pocket, where I keep a small dagger hidden everyday to ensure myself or others safety. Fragile as I may look, I can fling a dagger, though I'm not quite sure what use I would be with other weapons. I've never had a true need to use anything else, I suppose.

I sigh inaudibly and turn around to push the branches away, when suddenly I'm staring right into the familiar face of Francisca Hunt, a wiry little girl with ghostly pale skin and flaming red hair. "Boo!" She grins, and I groan inwardly. Francisca is the most mischievous little girl in 5. "So, excited for the Reaping today?" She screeches excitedly. I had nearly forgotten. It's Francisca's first year, and the Reaping is today. Francisca must have followed me all the way through the woods just to ask me this question. No wonder everyone at the Square seemed excited. In 5 the Reaping is like a holiday – looked happily upon by most because it's one of the only days off that all the power plant workers get. "No, Francisca, I am most certainly not excited for the Reaping. Now, go home, you shouldn't get that pretty blue dress dirty." Her eyes shine and she hugs me before prancing off. "And don't let anyone see you!" I call over my shoulder.

Pushing back the branches I come upon a shack, the tin roof beaten down and chipped and patched, and the wooden walls clearly rotting. A neat row of flowers lines the way to the front door, making the scene look much cheerier. I smile. Home. I walk through the flowers and nudge open the door. "I'm home!" I call out, and Felicia and Cyra come running up to me looking fine in small, worn-looking white strap dresses and bows holding back their shining hair. My mother is dazzling in a royal blue dress that is tight on the torso and splays out beginning with a white, chipped belt. My family may be worn-looking but so are all the other families in 5, excluding the victors. My mother looks at me and I can see the stress and worry clear in her tired eyes. She holds out a dress to me, and I take it into the room the twins and I share. Slipping it over my thin body, I look in the mirror.

The dress is a beautiful light purple with a fake gemstone in the middle of the chest. The torso has straps and fits my shoulders with a slight hugging feeling. The skirt of the dress is overlapping squares, making it seem stacked and neat. It complimented my bronze hair and emerald green eyes, making me seem much more beautiful than I had ever considered myself to be. It's truly a shame that the beauty of the dress has to be wasted on such a brutally terrifying even such as the Reaping.

I meet my family in the foyer of our small but comforting home, and take one last glance around the room, letting it all sink in. I feel as though I must do this, considering that this may be the last time I ever see this place. Flinging open the door, I call over my shoulder to my sisters, "Whoever gets to the old tree around the corner first gets to be given a piggy-back ride!" They both race with me to the tree, and I end up carrying Cyra. Felicia catches up with us in due time, my mother trailing behind her, and we finally arrive at the Justice building. With my stomach churning, I am registered, and I go sit with the other 14-year-girls. A loud voice booms over the chattering of the crowd. The famous Capitol phrase blares out.

"Welcome to the 64thAnnual Hunger Games Reaping! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Hey! So down to the point – I honestly wish I owned the Hunger Games, but sadly, I don't. *Looks longingly into space*

After being bored for a while today I thought,"Hey, go make that fanfiction that you were thinking about writing earlier." So this was the outcome.