Chapter 1: The Fourth Quarter Quell
Colton Spears, a boy from District 10, sits in front of his TV with his grandfather, anxiously awaiting the announcement of the fourth Quarter Quell twist.
POV: Colton Spears (District 10 Male)
President Lock walks up to the podium with lazy posture, yet with such grace that he appears to coast across the ground. I hear the satisfying sound of his shoes clicking on the ground like a rusty crank being turned over and over again. He starts up the steps, and I am filled with terror. My mind wanders off as I wonder what devious twist could have been planned an entire century ago. It could be anything.
The President leans over and grabs two notecards from the small shelf inside the podium. He picks them up, adjusts his microphone, and begins speaking in his raspy old voice. His voice is old and cracked, unsettling and uncomfortable, like the calm before a storm
"Welcome, Panem. As you all know, this is the 100th year of the Hunger Games" he begins, bellowing into the mic like a bat screeching in the night.
This is followed by a roar of applause from the Capitol audience, who has no compassion whatsoever for the dozens of children slaughtered every year for their deadly entertainment.
He begins speaking again in his disgusting voice. "It was written in the charter of the Games that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell. These special games would be even more exciting to watch, as each one came with a unique twist to remind the Districts of their failure during the rebellion."
"And now, we celebrate the fourth Quarter Quell. What twists will this year's games bring? Which tribute will emerge victorious? All of these questions will be answered at the conclusion of this year's games. Before that, however, we must first reflect on our past."
"On the 25th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it" Lock says as if reciting from a drilling manual.
I cringe at the thought of being forced to decide whom among my peers would be sent off to their most certain deaths. I am very glad I was not alive during those Hunger Games. I adjust myself on the couch and bump into Grandpa, who looks just as sad and grave as I do. He is probably reminiscing on his time alive during those Games. I feel bad for him.
"On the 50th anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen killed, each district provided twice the number of tributes."
That would be even more gruesome. I imagine standing on my pod and looking around to see forty-seven other panicked children instead of just twenty-three. I recall hearing in school that that was the year Haymitch Abernathy, the first ever victor from District 12, won.
"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the Male and Female tributes were reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district."
That was the one President Snow rigged to eliminate Katniss Everdeen. Even though it was never officially announced that the Quell was rigged, we all know it is true. To this day, the Capitol still insists that it was planned for seventy-five years in advance, but that fools nobody.
"And now, we celebrate the fourth Quarter Quell."
The president turns sideways. A youthful boy certainly no more than six years old walks up to him, clutching a small wooden box in his hands. When the President opens the box, I am filled with shock. Whoever created the Quarter Quell system had plans in place for thousands of games. The president briefly scans over the rows of yellowed envelopes and picks out the one clearly labeled "100". It makes a crisp sound as it is slowly removed, sliding against its neighbors who will not be opened for many years to come.
I am flooded with anxiety and fear. Being the 100th anniversary, this year's games are guaranteed to be more twisted and devious than any before. I am so scared and nervous that my blood feels like ice and my heart is pounding like a roaring engine. I huddle close to Grandpa, who puts his hand over mine and looks at me with sad, tired eyes. He has been alive to see all of the Quarter Quells before this one, and he seems to be fed up with the legalized child slaughter initiated each year. Most people in District 10 never live as long as he did. We all die of starvation or thirst before our fifties. He was a lucky one though, being at the ripe old age of eighty four. Unlucky, you could argue, because he has seen more legalized child slaughter than anybody else has.
The president sets the crisp, yellowed envelope onto the podium. I hear a satisfying sound as he cracks the wax seal engraved with the Capitol seal and pulls out the small, yellowed paper conceived so long ago. The President reads over the paper over a few times, and an almost childish grin spreads across his gnarled face. He coughs twice to clear his throat, and then speaks. His voice sounds happy and mischievous, like a child announcing his favorite flavor of candy.
"On the 100th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that they brought the Hunger Games upon themselves and are entirely responsible for their existence, this year's tributes will all be volunteers. Nobody will be permitted to leave the reaping until one person of each gender has volunteered to take the place of the reaped tributes"
With that, the President places the paper back inside the envelope, closes it, and places it back inside the box. He slides the key into the lock, which makes a satisfying click as it seals the contents of the box that will not be opened again for a quarter of a century.
The Capitol audience explodes in applause. Whoops and screams can be heard from all around. Their cruel, violent minds are overjoyed that this year's twenty-four traumatized children actively chose to fight in the Games.
My entire world explodes as I am filled with sizzling fury. How could they do this? Round us all up, put us in nice, neat rows by age and gender, and force two of us to sacrifice ourselves to save everybody else? The "reaping" may last for days, maybe even weeks before people start dying of hunger and somebody finally gives in to stop it all!
I scream at Grandpa like a banshee screams into the dark night. "How could they do this? Keep us all in line by forcing us to kill two children every year for their sick, twisted sense of entertainment? Why can't they just treat us fairly?"
He is silent for a moment. His tired, grey eyes look distant and calm, almost peaceful.
"Because of power" he finally responds. "Those who hold power are so afraid of losing it that they will do anything and everything to ensure that people fear and respect them. The Capitol's way of doing that is showing us that they can do anything they want, and we can do nothing we want. It's all part of human nature."
Our conversation is interrupted when President Lock announces speaks over the television once again.
"And now, please welcome our head gamemaker, Calypso Azowa!"
The girl who walks onto the stage appears to be in in her fourth decade. As she walks, her brown hair, which is in a braid, thumps up and down against her back. Her eyes look wild and excited, and it isn't hard to see why. This is her first year as head Gamemaker, and it does seem like an exciting job, apart from the fact that you're overseeing the deaths of two dozen children every year.
Her long, graceful strides lead her onto the podium and in front of the microphone. She coughs twice to clear her throat. She speaks.
"Hello Panem! Did you know that most Hunger Games arenas are in the works for up to five years before they are actually used? This year's arena has been in the works for over ten years now, and I am excited to say that it is a fantastic arena, filled with twists and turns of all kinds."
"Long ago, our ancestors realized that the best way to not only punish the districts for the rebellion, but to also serve as a reminder that everybody must make sacrifices to preserve their country, was to request that every district provide two teenagers to fight to the death in a contest of honor and courage. This tradition has continued for an entire century, and will continue for many centuries to come."
"As you all know, this is my first year as Head Gamemaker. Because of this, I have ensured that this year's Hunger Games will be the most exciting yet. I have many great ideas for exciting, entertaining arenas, and I hope to continue this job long into the future. This year's Games will bond all of us together and unite us as one country, as one family. Long live Panem, long live the Capitol."
With that, she steps off of the podium, and President Lock takes her place once again, with the same sluggish posture as before.
"Thank you, Gamemaker Azowa, for your beautiful speech." His face turns serious, yet excited and anxious.
"To all of you in the Districts, we look forward to finding out who among you will choose to be bestowed with the great honor of fighting in the Hunger Games this year. To all of our sponsors, you will soon have the opportunity to decide which tributes you would like to sponsor this year. To all of our stylists, be sure to get your creative juices flowing and to come up with some fantastic ideas for this fantastic Hunger Games. Finally, to all of our future tributes, happy Hunger Games, good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
The Capitol audience cheers relentlessly like there is no tomorrow. The Capitol TV logo appears for a brief moment before the screen goes black and nothing but an empty, black screen remains.
There's the first chapter down! I plan to submit new chapters once per week. Please review the story and tell me what you think!
Published 4/30/2017
