I'm back! For anyone of you who remember me and the whole "I hate you for your last story!" thing then I have good news for you! I'm writing again! I promise to you all, THIS STORY WILL NOT HAVE A BAD ENDING. Pinkie promise and you can't break a pinkie promise. If you do, Spongebob will hate you! I have a good idea on how to end this. So give it a chance. Reviews are appreciated, as always.
Comment of the Recent Update-
Best Friend-"What if they shove alien symbiosis down my throat?"
Me- "Fine then you don't have to ask her out." (He's kind of a chicken. He did ask though. He was sadly rejected.)
Review of the Week- Oops there's none. Take that as a hint to review!
My name was Rue. I was twelve years old when I died in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. This is my account of the games.
I was born and raised in District 11. I worked in the orchards all day, almost every day. I was the oldest child in my family. Fiercely protective of the younger ones, I would do anything for them. We lived in poverty so I shared my rations of food with the five little ones. I had gone to bed hungry more than once.
I had had the day off. It was reaping day, the moment everyone feared that their child could be taken away forever. District 11 didn't have many victors. We weren't careers. Our entire district was dirt poor. Eating properly was an essential part to winning the games and we didn't receive much food.
Normally, I should have been working in the orchards, swinging from tree to tree and calling my four note song to the mockingjays to signal the day's end. Instead I was still in bed, sleeping. Well, only trying to sleep. I hadn't gotten a wink all night. I was too anxious about my first reaping. I had seen it many times, but this would be my first time participating.
Participating. That made it sound if it was some sort of game. Which in the Capitol's mind; it was. To the rest of Panem with the exclusion of the career districts, it was a sick punishment for the actions of our predecessors.
As I mentioned previously, I was lying in my bed staring at the ceiling hard, wishing more than anything for the roof of my small shack would disappear and I would take off, growing wings like a mockingjay. I wanted to soar away on days like this; when reality wasn't what I wanted.
Slowly, I rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the little ones I shared it with. They were all asleep. They had nothing to worry about. I was the one with my name entered in the reaping nine time; not them. Eight times, one for each member of my family and the ninth because it was required.
I entered our poor excuse of a kitchen. With rotten word cabinets and mice scurrying on the floor, it wasn't the most pleasant place to be. It was home though, no matter what anyone says. I took a seat at the modest table in the center of the room. My mother was already awake and had already started to make breakfast. The aroma of oatmeal filled my head. I could tell by lumps in it, it contained raisins and maybe anther dried fruit. That was a rare treat. Normally, we only had plain porridge.
My stomach rumbled and I hoped my mother hadn't heard. She didn't approve of my sharing with my siblings. "They need to learn they won't have enough food all the time. They should no hunger while they're young," she would tell me, "Besides, you need your strength. You have a very important job to accommodate to." My mother wasn't neglecting the little ones when she said this. She was just stating the facts of life, but if I can hide this life from them; it would have all been worth it.
"Are you hungry?" my mother asked and set empty bowls down in front of me and the remaining spots with no one there.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied politely. Manners were important in my family. Looking back, little things like this are what I miss most. I wish I was still with them.
"You have to wait for the rest of the family," she told me and I nodded. She smiled at my obedience. I knew my mother loved me; she had told me this on many occasions. I was her favorite child, her second born. I apparently had had an older sister, but she passed away right after birth. My mother had been devastated at the loss.
After some time, the rest of my family joined us. We ate in silence, not wanting to discuss the misery of the reaping. If we talked, we knew the event would somehow come up. Instead, we quietly ate our meal. I bit into a berry, feeling the juice trickle down my chin. I wiped my mouth with the back of my end, which earned me a frown from my mother at my lack of polite conduct.
"Why don't you get ready, Rue?" my mother said. It was more of a command then an actual question. I nodded and stood up from the table, making sure to say "Excuse me." After acquiring agreement from everyone, I went to the bedroom. I didn't have any nice clothing because I hadn't ever needed it and it was expensive. Much to my surprise, a lovely purple dress was lying on the hastily made bed done by one of my siblings. The garb looked vaguely familiar to me. I quickly slipped on the dress. It fit perfectly like it was designed particularly for me.
'How much had it cost?' I wondered. My family couldn't have afforded this. It wasn't extremely fancy but it was a nice dress. Then I remembered why it looked so recognizable. I had admired this dress when I was little. It had hung in my mother's tiny closet for as long as I could remember. She had worn it to her first few reapings until she outgrew it. She had kept it for me and the other little girls.
There was a knock on the door. "Yes?" I called. The door slowly opened and the second oldest, Marigold, peeked her head around it.
"Time to leave," she told me sadly, trying to manage a small smile.
"Okay," I muttered and left for the last time.
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In front of the Justice Building, our district gathered; immensely packed and claustrophobic. The run down store fronts had their windows boarded and their doors lock to prevent any theft that would have been hidden in this commotion. Because of the large population of District 11, I couldn't see any members of my family. They were probably watching on large screens positioned all around the district since only a small amount of people could actually see the stage where the events would play out and that was people like me: possible victims.
I had been herded to the back of the group where the other twelve year-olds were stationed. Since we only required our name entered once, there was a less chance of our slips being drawn. The May air was hot and muggy with no breeze whatsoever so this made standing in a crowd almost unbearable. The fact we were waiting for our deaths to be announced crossed the line to intolerable.
My heart was racing. My palms were sweaty and I rubbed them on my dress in attempt to soak up the moisture. I was a nervous wreck. No matter how many times my parents assured me my name could never be called; I was never convinced. Not only had I had no sleep last night, I had not had any for the entire week. Anxiety, insomnia, and lack of breathing room would kill me.
Or the Hunger Games would. I ridded my mind of that ugly thought.
The mayor stood from his cheap folding chair and took the microphone in one hand. He gave a small cough before beginning the speech we all had heard a thousand and one times: the history of Panem and the unjustifiable reason of the Hunger Games. I didn't listen. I had heard it enough times and the story made me more disgusted every time. It was unfair and tyranny!
I would have never shared any of these thoughts with anyone else besides myself. Thoughts like that could get you killed without the officials giving it a second thought. That was just the way it was.
The mayor traded places with our district escort, Harkens Desmiss. He was frightening to look at. This year his hair was spiked with alternating shades of blonde, brunette, red, and black coloured locks. This wasn't as bad as last year when he had long green hair matched with a deep red skin tone. His skin was a normal peach now. This made it slightly easier on the eyes to look at him.
He gave the signature "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor." Other escorts said the line with cheerfulness. Harkens made it sound ominous like it really was. It made you fearful and it wasn't because of him himself. He wasn't imposing on size or build. It was like he knew some dark secret no one else was aware of.
"Ladies first," Harkens spoke into the microphone. He reached into the large glass bin with the thousands of names. All but nine had others' names on them. But nine slips had my name written on them with a shaking hand.
There was an absolute silence when he read the name. A baby cried distantly and it was only a faint wail. It stopped as abruptly as it had started and I feared what had happened to the baby; and if it was my baby sister or not. Did the Capitol's men kill it? Did it really appear as that large of a distraction when I was the only one to show signs of hearing the little baby? The rest of the population was staring at the screens or directly at the stage, waiting for the name.
I wish I could have frozen time right there. Then I wouldn't have had to hear the name called out. Then I wouldn't have to deal with consequences of what Harkens was about to say.
He read out my name.
Chapter 1 completed. I'm already working on 2. Though I need to know if I should continue. There's not going to be much action right away; a little here and there but not a lot until the actual games begin. I'm making this up as I go so... let's see how this works out!
(Please pardon grammar and spelling mistakes. I'm terrible at that stuff. I can't tell the difference between a ; and a ,)