I trace my finger along the neatly cut stone, beaming with an amazing blue colour. My finger circle its interior, which is in crusted into the delicate silver. My hands hesitate to touch the gentle thing, so beautifully crafted. It hits me that this belongs to me now. Once my mothers, who cherished and adored it so much. I wipe away to tears which I accidentally let escape, and fight back the dry lump growing in my throat. Being careful, the bracelet slides around my wrist. Perfect fit. I smile to myself, but it fades, only to be replaced by a frown, a habit of mine. I don't deserve such a thing. I don't deserve anything this beautiful. Memories wash over me of when my mother wore it, complimenting her sun kissed skin, always so clean and smooth. The bracelet looks almost too good for my skin, against my rough skin, which has been thickened with dirt and grime, it looks alien. I accept it though of course, it was my mothers last wish.
Walking out, I'm greeted by a cold breeze, which hits me like knifes on my skin. I quickly shuffle past the houses- not houses, not anymore. Rubble and ruins of what was once colourful cottages. The air is a sea of fog and smoke, and while the ground is so murky, so is the sky, clouds looming above me, threatening to rain, thunder, hail, any worst possible scenario. What was once a beautiful district, was now reduced to ashes and memories. The district of Jewels they called us. Our buildings even shone like the gems we mined and crafted, but it evaporated when they came. The Capitol.
I ignore my surroundings as I tiptoe through the streets, like a ghost, I try not to be seen. Suddenly, I catch a reflection of myself in a shop window, my eyes, glaring alarmingly back at me. My once blond fine hair, now resembling a loo brush. My skin so full and colourful, only now to be a mess of bones and pale colours. Bags hang below my eyes, causing me to look 5 years older than I am. I'm tired, so very tired from the past. Then my eyes, used to mirror the stone on my bracelet. Sapphire. The gem I was named after.
I snap my eyes away from the alien in the window, and continue walking. I reach my destination, a wooden shack, forced to call my home, that holds 3 other families, including my own. The wood creaks from the wind that smacks the small shack, the door clattering so loudly, I can't hear my own breath. It won't last long. When I enter, I'm surprised to find the families huddled around our worn-out TV. When I push through the many people, I only just catch to words lingering on our presidents lips.
"And as punishment, each of the twelve districts must provide one girls and one boy, from the age of 12 to 18, called tributes. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned into a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything. Over a period of several weeks, the tributes must fight to the death. Last one standing wins victory, and food for their district. This event shall be named The Hunger Games, and shall be hold annually," He pauses for a few seconds, enough time for him to gather his breath, and us to soak in his words
"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour,"