Seneca leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he observed. Glancing into his empty cup he was not satisfied. "Avox!" he yelled, "more tea!"
"Yes, yes, I do agree but that Cato, he will surely win. Don't you agree?" asked Teria Druce casually.
"So it appears" mused Seneca "Ah, now for district 12!" They had been proven wrong before. Seneca had learned never to expect the ordinary. He lived by that rule. But then again, only Thresh looked like he would put up a fight. Seneca spun to face the huge TV. The door banged and Seneca looked up expectantly. It was the Avox with tea. She motioned for the cup. Her hand shook as she poured, knocking the glass onto Seneca Crane. He turned to face her. The girls fear was obvious in her huge black eyes. "Look what you've done! Take her away!" He spat at her then turned away. Grumbling something inaudible he focused his attention back to the TV.
The moon was beautiful. Seneca leaned back in his chair. "The tributes will be arriving soon," he though aloud. He gazed at the city below him. It's residents where sleeping peacefully after there delicious meals and hot showers. These people where civilized, unlike the animals that lived in the districts. At least they did this beautiful city some good, farming and manufacturing. This would be the 49th Hunger Games. A brilliantly game where 2 tributes were picked from each of the 12 districts. Then the children fought to the death. Only one would win, and they would bring home with them riches and spoils for there district. Seneca laughed merrily. He, Seneca Crane, was the head gamemaker. He, and his crew of gamemakers, designed the landscape for the games and controlled what happened. A knock echoed and he whirled around. "Come in!" he barked. An Avox stepped forward. Avoxs' could not talk, the were criminals who had there tongues cut out, then were made servants here in the city. The boy kept his eyes on the ground but motioned that Seneca's bath was ready. "Good, good." Crane sighed. He took in another breathtaking glance at the city, then stepped of of the roof and into the darkness of the room.
It was a horrible dream. Seneca was in a black room, and when he tried to take a step forward he ran into something hard and cool. Suddenly, a metal plate beneath him began to rise, bringing him with it. Then realization struck. It was a launch room... where tributes wait before getting sent into the arena, and Seneca was standing on the launch pad. "NO!" he screamed, but it was too late. His dark little cylinder filled with light, and he was blinded. Then the ride was over. He had reached the top. Blinking away the sunspots, Seneca flung his head around. This wasn't an arena at all, this was where he grew up. His home. His mother was knitting in her rocking chair, just like he remembered. But she's dead, this can't be happening. He took a step toward her, and there was an explosion before he even realized what he had done. Seneca Crane had set off the mine. He awoke sweaty, his heart racing. It was a weird feeling, being afraid, so unlike him too. What was going on? Seneca never had time to be afraid, he was always making quick decisions that would worry anyone else into their grave. It had been so long ago. The last time he had ever made the wrong decision, he had been just a kid, but that was no excuse for Seneca. How could he have been stupid enough to get his mom killed? It was all too overwhelming, and an exhasted Seneca heaved a sigh and fell back into bed just as the alarm went off.
Sorry it's so short.. but I like that as the ending. Please review for another chapt! No point in continuing if no ones reading.. let me know your thoughts on Seneca. It was hard to come up with his personality because he's only referred to, we never really meet him. Hope you enjoyed it! I do not own The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does :)