Woohoo! Finally, the Hunger Games story arrives. Took a looooong time, but I'm feelin' pumped!
-Teenage Twi'lek
No one talks as we leave the mine. All of us are tired. We all work from early morning till dusk for our survival. Those of us with larger families, like me, often start at dawn. We trudge out and into the brisk twilight, each diverting toward their respective routes. I walk slowly towards my residence, being fueled by the desire to see my family. Only me and my brother survived the fire. As we had lain in the grass, in shock, watching our home burn to the ground with our parents inside, a complete stranger had found us and taken us in. I wandered slowly through the Seam, trekking a path toward sleep. I reach the ramshackle building and open the door, only to be tackled by a small shape. My younger brother slams into me, almost knocking me down.
"Valen!" my younger brother Ather shouts joyously. Ever since the last mine explosion, which claimed several miner's lives, he has repeated the greeting at my safe return each night. Mr. Reese, whom was the kind soul that had taken us in, had been in the mine at the time of the explosion, and had ironically inhaled to much dust and smoke leaving him prone to full body spasms and massive cough attacks. As a direct result, it became my responsibility to work in the mines (at only 15) as it was 'unsafe' for him to work with such a condition. I look over his shoulder at our self-assigned guardian, the man who had saved me and my brother from the aftermath of the fire. He is sitting in his ancient rocking chair, smiling at the affection displayed by my brother. My brother releases the death grip he has on me and takes a few steps back. I ruffle his hair and shoo him to bed. I pat Mr. Reese on the back and trudge to my room. The rest of the week goes by as usual. I wake, eat, leave for the mine, and then return before night claims the land. It is not until Sunday that things change. Sunday is we miners only day off. Sundays and reaping day, which is tomorrow.
I wake up early, kiss my brother on the forehead, lingering a moment by his bed, before departing. I grab my pair of knives and walk to the glade. The only way out of this hell hole we call a district. As I walk through the tall grass, I overhear talking. I lower myself into the grass and crawl slowly toward the sound. I finally see the speakers. A man with dark hair and fair skin is sitting with a girl with brown hair in a braid, eating bread and talking. I recognize one of them immediately, and it brings back memories. Flames spewing out of open windows. Lying on a wooden table, snow being piled on my back. A lady with graying hair administering to my plethora of burns, the younger of her two daughters helping, the older leaving the house in a hurry. The girl was Katniss Everdeen, daughter of the Seam's healer. Leaving only Gale Hawthorne as the man sitting next to her, as I knew he was her hunting partner. I crawled away, and under the fence, and out into the freedom of the woods. I returned to District 12 late in the afternoon. Three rabbits and a squirrel for my troubles, I walked carefully toward the Hob, scanning for any peacekeepers that might apprehend me for illegally hunting. Having successfully avoided any unwanted attention, I sold my animals for some supplies, saving the squirrel for dinner. I spy Katniss walk in, her own wares to sell. Nodding to her, I exit, trudging back home. Dinner is special. Due to my working in the mine, I rarely have time to hunt, lending to the Sunday tradition of having wild meat of some sort. There is no friendly chit-chat at the table; after all, tomorrow is the Reaping. We go to bed early, praying for good luck tomorrow. Fate is never so kind.
Morning comes, and Ather, Mr. Reese, and I get ready. It is a slow and laborious task. I dress in the nicest things I own. A pair of dark pants, black socks, a pair of leather boots, and matching black button-up shirt. I keep the sleeves down. This will be my last year of being eligible for the games, and my brothers first. He doesn't show it, but deep down, I know that he is terrified. Any sensible person would be. We join the crowds of children on the way to the reaping grounds. I give Ather a hug before we separate into our age groups. After we sign in, we possible tributes huddle together in our friend groups. I see the clock on the Justice Building strikes two, our Mayor Undersee steps up and recounts the history of Panem, and everything leading to the Hunger Games. In the last seventy-three years, we have had two victors, only one of which is still alive; a drunkard by the name of Haymitch Abernathy. Upon finishing his speech, the mayor presents Effie Trinket, our District escort. She waltzes on stage, wearing a ping wig and matching dress. She ends her brief speech on the honor of representing District 12 with, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" With a, "Ladies first!" she hightails it toward the girls bowl and plucks out a name. She returns to the podium and speaks loudly, "Primrose Everdeen."
I instantly realize what will happen. Call it a gift, but I have always been intuitive, and no longer than three seconds later my suspicions are confirmed when we hear a desperate scream. "I volunteer!" Katniss, Primrose's sister, screeches, before repeating it again more clearly. "I volunteer as tribute." Her little sister protests, but is hoisted up by a towering dark-haired individual whom, without a doubt, is Gale. Katniss strides up to the stage, attempting to hide her terror. She mounts the stage, and after a lame joke from Effie, stands stock still, staring into space. A hand reaches into the air, presenting three fingers to Katniss, an ancient sign of respect. The motion is echoed until everyone in the square is saluting the brave girl. As if it is a curse to distract the cameras from, Effie clops in her ridiculous heels over to the boys bowl, and roots around before tugging out another piece of paper that will banish someone into the oblivion of the Capitol's game. She steps up to the podium and reads.
"Valen Fell." I start, knowing that this could mean the end of any chances for my family's survival. I step through the parting crowd to the walkway that seals my fate. I see Ather sobbing, and I nod to him, a silent affirmation that everything will be alright. I walk up to the stage and, at the behest of Effie, shake hands with my only anchor to home. The only reason I am still alive, whatever magic the Everdeen family holds, I believed in it. It had saved me from what should have been fatal burns, from not being able to help provide for Ather, and later, Mr. Reese. Effie raises our arms, and presents us as the victors from District 12. We are taken into the Justice building and into separate rooms. A few minutes later, the door open and Mr. Reese as well as Ather walk in.
"Five minutes." A peacekeeper calls, before shutting the door. I embrace Ather and then Mr. Reese as we sit in silence. No words necessary. Ather pulls out something.
"Will you take this as your token?" He asks, presenting me with a silver locket, the very same locket our mother was wearing when her cadaver was found in the shambles of our former house. I nod, a tear rolling down my cheek. I give them one last hug as the peacekeeper opens the door and orders them to leave. I dawn the locket and, at the behest of the guard, follow him out and toward the train that will ferry us closer to our doom.
So, yeah...been off the radar. All ninja-like. Anyway, sorry for not writing anything in almost four to five months. I have been feeling blasé as of late and I know that should be no excuse. I have firmly decided to get serious as a Fanfiction writer and will try to update every week (at latest, every two weeks). I will try to post new chapters on Wednesdays, but cant guaranty it. I may, over some weekend, fix my Bird of Death story due to its obvious grammatical and spelling errors. Any-who, if you are reading this, you...are...AWESOME! Read and Review please, it will literally make my week.
-Teenage Twi'lek
P.S. Guaranty...really...where are we, Guatemala? Chillin' with the iguanas? Eating guacamole? English language, I prithee, why dost thou jumble my brain with incomprehensible spelling rules.