My note:
This is my first story in a while, Effie's POV. This chapter is especially shorter than the others, as it is a prologue, and the only chapter based on the happenings in the book. Feel free to ask questions and tell me how to improve.
The wind whispers secrets in her ear as she balances on those shiny points under her feet. She concentrates on that little fleck of unpainted metal shining on the District sign on the opposite side of the square as she pulls her facial muscles into the familiar routine of a blinding white (yet fake) smile while, really, she's thinking about escaping back to her nice, plush home in the Capitol which outwardly appears colourful and full of obscurities while it really isn't.
Effie attempts not to peer at the children lining up, because it reminds her of that horrible time where she made the decision that saved and killed her in an instant, and not even for her benefit.
Anyone of those children could be called out to shakily get up onto the stage, and any one of those children could be dead in a matter of weeks, and its all because she plucks a delicate piece of death out of the crystal ball of life. All because of her perfectly manicured nails and her fake, high Capitol voice. All because of her.
She coughs into the microphone, and makes an effort to look over at the hard-pressed faces of her district, even though it pains her beyond belief and hits a barely closed wound. She delays saying the first words, and instead quickly prays to the good people of the earth to drop a bomb on this doomed, corrupt nation before she has to kill anyone's children. She looks around at the young girls in the crowd and peers at a girl with a face as fresh as a flower petal, with golden hair and blue eyes, and prays especially that the little girl isn't called out. "Welcome, welcome." She presents into the microphone while fluffing up her fairy floss hair with a jewelry-clad hand. A snort comes from the crowd, as well as a couple of disdainful glances from the older children, but she ignores them as she continues with her perfectly practiced speech.
"The time has come to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing District Twelve in the Seventy-Fourth annual Hunger Games!" She smiles flirtatiously in the cameras direction before leaning forward as far as she can in her tight, glittery green suit to speak into the microphone. "Ladies first." Standing back up straight, she smooths her dress before shuffling as best as she can in the backbreaking heels over toward the bowl. Plunging her hand inside, she prays that it isn't the golden girl that she saw before, the one that reminds her of the past. Pulling out a slip of paper just like the rest, she shuffles back over to the microphone before opening the paper like pulling off a band-aid and calls out the name while praying: not her.
The audience falls silent as a little girl from the back wobbles slightly and for a split second the crowd thinks she's going to fall over in the dirt. She regains her balance, only just, and Effie catches a glimpse of a guard's hand wrapping around the girls thin arm, and she almost forgets how horrible the world is. As she girl comes closer wide, terrified blue eyes look up at her in fear, her heart sinks into her stomach because it's the golden girl from before. And she has just condemned her to death.