First Chapter- YAY!

Whenever I read other submit a tribute reapings, I usually get board halfway through and give up, so I have decided to pass the reapings quickly by telling it from the POV of a Gamemaker.

Enjoy, but if you don't like it, tell me and I can change it back to normal reapings or another suggestion.

My head. I sat up on my chair rubbing the lump while searching through the mess on my desk for my healing cream. Massaging it into my scalp, I sighed at the growing amount of papers scattered on my desk, waiting to be written and signed.

I hate the games. I mean don't get me wrong, it's fun to watch the districts fight it out for 1st place, but when it gets to this time of the year, my work triples.

Yesterday's night party has not improved my dingy mood. All that that did was give me a large headache

Finding the bell hidden behind several balls of elastic bands, I rang it to call my personal avox. Personal avox- I have my own avox! One of the gamemaker's above me was fired for letting a tribute live through a cave collapse-in, and I was chosen to take his place! Although the job had more paperwork then I would usually do, it came with a house on cherry road, the second most expensive place to live in the Capitol, and my own avox. How could I turn it down?

When my avox finally arrived carrying my usual cooked breakfast, I quickly took the tray off of her and tucked into my meal, standing up and leaving the room whilst stuffing my mouth with egg.

"Sort out the papers," I called back to her, little bits of egg spaying onto the floor from my mouth.

Looking at my watch, it turned out I was going to miss the reapings if I didn't get to the TV room quickly. Whilst taking the elevator up to the 10th floor, I managed to finish my breakfast and dump it on the small table outside the elevator doors. Falling back into the warm clutches of my sofa, I reached for the control panel on the right arm of it to switch the TV on, flicking through endless channels until I found the right one, where Caesor Flickerman was discussing what he thought the tributes were going to be like with someone named Halie Finn, or so her nametag read.

"Now last year, that was the perfect example of a bad alliance, I think we could all tell that it was going nowhere," Halie told Caesor.

"Yes, but the way he killed her, let's just say that it looked like it hurt."

"Do you think that anyone this year will be as brutal?"

"I guess we will just have to watch and find out. Thank you for being on the show, Halie."

"Thank you, Caesor."

The scene quickly changes from the comfort of the Capitol to District 1, where I'm told they had an outbreak of head lice. Alley Kidd, this year's escort, is styling a long, golden wig, a short white dress with a golden band hanging round the hips and tall, golden boots complete with bright blue buttons.

Alley stalked over to the bowl, pausing to shake her hair at the camera. She is the height of fashion. Dipping her skinny arm gracefully into the bowl, she picked out a name from the bottom of the bowl.

"Carla Beetle," She called out in a clearly.

"I volunteer!" called out a big voice from the back. A large girl swaggered forward onto the stage while being cheered on by a crowd of people from the back of the square. Once up there, she threw a twisted smile at the audience, which was greeted by a whistle coming from the 17s.

"So, what's your name?"Alley asked, trying to stop the girl posing and flexing her muscles.

"Morgan Leal," the girl replied, narrowing her eyes and flicking her hair at one of the cameras.

"Alrighty, let's get on with the boys." Alley made her way to the opposite side of the stage where the boys bowl was situated. Sliding her hand into it, she tried to get a hold on a slip. The wind must of blew at that point as the next thing I could see was Alley dropping the name and trying to hold her skirt down, unsuccessfully, resulting in the TV catching a glance at her pink, lacy knickers. Trying to remain her dignity, Alley picked up the slip she had dropped like nothing had ever happened, and quickly read the name.

"Billy Nabe."

The cameras scanned the area, trying to pick out Billy, finally managing to show a small boy from the 12s slowly walking up the steps, shivering.

"I volunteer!" called out a boy with short, dark hair from the 18s. He practically ran to the stage as not to miss out on his chance of fame. Alley took a few steps away from him as the boy looked down on her.

"What's your name?"

"Bracke Ridge," he replied in a loud voice, sweeping his gaze around the audience when they didn't clap. An awkward silence followed where Alley tried to think what to say.

Morgan slowly held out her hand to Bracke, narrowing her eyes at her competition, while Bracke repeated the gesture with a disgusted look on his face, taking care to wipe his hand on his trousers.

"And may the odd's be ever in your favour!" squeaked Alley in her high pitched voice, ushering them off the stage and into the crowd of Peacekeepers. The TV switched onto the Capitol seal, leading into a break where some loony was telling the screen why Pertox was the best brand of microchip.

Pressing the mute button, I ordered a snack of orange and wildflower biscuits through the mouth piece on the side of the sofa and waited for my avox to arrive.

Changing the channel to some art exhibit, I started to write one of the many reports that I had to finish by Thursday. This one concluded the results of the test for the arena and would be going straight to the head Gamemaker.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that the games are soon, and after that my work ease's considerably.

Staring out of my window and gathering my thoughts, my avox made her way in to deliver my snack. Chewing slowly to savour the taste, I planned out the rest of my day, deciding to take a break off work and party hard tonight. What a boring life the district people must live. But then again, they brought it on themselves.

Tell me the truth

Does it sound cheesy?

Please review- if you don't review, how will I know how it sounds?