Hunger Games: Caught in the Snow (sorry for the lame name)
I lay awake in my bed, not wanting to get up and possibly never see my home again. Instead, I wait for my mother to wake me, though I haven't slept all night. She shakes my arm and tells me to get up, then goes to wake my four siblings.
I sit up and rub my eyes lazily. My mother had set out a dress for me to wear, so I change into it and brush my thick, dark brown hair. Once it's tied at the top of my head in a tight ponytail, I go into the kitchen, where everyone else is eating breakfast.
I live in District 4, so most of what we eat is fish. The house constantly reeks of the stench. I sit down and start eating what I think is trout, and no one says anything.
On a normal occasion, my sisters might comment on my outfit or offer to do my hair, since I'm the youngest. But today, we don't speak. Today is the day… the day of Hunger Games reaping.
The Hunger Games is mostly just for the Capitol people's entertainment as far as I know, and I really hate to watch it. It sickens me. It would be even worse for those in the arena.
I know I shouldn't be scared, but there aren't any people I know of who would want to see me get killed, or even maimed. In any case, I don't have many enemies. And this year is the 25th year the Hunger Games are being held. The First Quarter Quell. This year, everyone will vote for who should be our tribute. I'm pretty sure no one will vote for me, but I'm still afraid they will.
I'm the only one in my family young enough to take part so my brothers and sister stay back. Peacekeepers, or sort of police men, lead everyone to they're place in the crowd, us beings sorted by height. As I am fifteen, and a normal height for my age, I stand near the middle of the crowd.
A woman named Anthia, dressed in bright blue and green walks onto the stage and starts talking. I'm not listening, just standing there, shaking. Anthia reaches into one of the large bowls containing names of girls. She's certainly taking her time, all she has to do is pull out a name and read it. maybe it's jut my nerves, she's probably moving at a normal pace.
Finally she takes out a slip of paper and reads the name aloud. I can barely hear her over the thumping of my own heart beat, and everyone else's. It takes me awhile to figure out what she had said, and when I do, my heart sinks.
Not my name, that would be weird. No one knows me enough to hate me, or want me in the Hunger Games. No, the name is of the person who knows me best.
"Morgan Wiley."
I can't think properly, so I guess I'm just screaming, "I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!" over again until the Peacekeepers let me onto the stage. Morgan looks as shocked as I'm sure I do, but runs back to her family.
"We have a volunteer!" Anthia announces as if it wasn't painfully obvious enough. "What's your name, deary?"
The sweetness in her tone of voice doesn't sooth me in the slightest, and I stutter my name quietly.
"What was that, dear? I didn't quite catch that." She asks again.
I say louder this time, "Chloe Seaton."
So, this is my first Fanfiction, so feedback is very and highly appreciated. I noticed that the 25th Hunger Games didn't have any known victors, or where they were from, so i saw it as a perfect opportunity for a Fanfic! Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! See you in the next chapter( unless you hated this one and are never coming back ;-;)
