Disclaimer: The Hunger Games does not belong to me…yet.
Chapter 4: Merida and her brothers, only ten times worse
Arya Burntwood, 15, D7F
"Arya! Help!"
I gasp as I hear the sounds of my twin sister echo through the orphanage.
"Bryony!" I shout.
"Arya! Please, come quickly!"
"I'm coming, Bryony!" I say, leaping out of bed. The William Tell Overture starts playing in the background as I run through the corridors of the orphanage towards the pained sound of my sister's voice. Gee, I could hear her from really far away. How convenient.
"Bryony!" I gasp, running into the room where my sister is. My fiery, bright red hair the colour of fire flies out behind me. You see, I have a fiery personality. Because I have fiery red hair. Got it? Good, because I'm going to mention it every five seconds or so.
Anyway. Back to the plot.
"Arya!" Bryony gasps. She's pressed against a corner surrounded by four Generic Bullies.
"Come here little girl," Generic Bully Model #10796 sneers. Bryony starts sobbing. She looks so weak and helpless, mostly because those are her only personality traits.
"Not so fast!" I say, leaping forward. A bully vomits at the cheesiness. Nice one me.
"Arya, no!" Bryony gasps, like she didn't frickin call me over here five seconds ago. "You can't!"
I thought for a second. The bullies had knives and fists, and all I had were my porcelain hands, determination, and a sub-machine gun.
"Hahaha," Generic Bully Model #10796 sneers. "You'll never get us!"
"Wait," I say, holding up my hands. "What's your name? It's getting really annoying having to type out Generic Bully Model #10796 every time you're mentioned."
"Oh. It's Trevor," said Trevor.
"Right. Thanks!" I say, just before I gun the bullies down in a spray of blood.
"Oh my god! You were so brave. That must have been so difficult." Bryony gasps.
"It was nothing," I say bravely, in a brave way, like I'm Merida from Brave.
I scoop my dear, innocent twin sister up in my arms and carry her down to our room in the orphanage, while she mutters on about how brave and spirited I am, and that one of the bullies actually broke her leg and she needs medical attention. Ah, Bryony. If only she had red hair like me, then she could be as fiery and spirited and wilful as I am. Unfortunately, she has brown hair.
I carry her down the halls of the orphanage. No, we're not just here to play "spot-the-poors". We live here, in this horrible horrible poverty. Our lives truly are miserable. Also Bryony makes it a point to poke bullies with sticks so I can save her from them about once every day so yeah.
I dump Bryony onto the floor so that I can finish narrating my backstory.
We never knew our father, but we know he was a Capitolite who met our mother while on official duties because reasons. He's still alive in the Capitol probably. Bryony and I grew up as technically-not-orphans-but-I'll-call-myself-an-orphan-so-you-feel-empathy-for-me in this horrible decrepit orphanage.
I walk into our room of the orphanage (yes we have our own room. The Capitol really cares about orphan children, DUH!). I flop down on the white leather couch and turn on the 48-inch HD TV, flicking through the channels. Urgh, we don't even have HBO! You'll never understand the struggles we have to go through.
I take a look at the shimmering crystal mirror in the right wing of our orphanage to describe my appearance. I have fiery, bright red hair (yes thank you Arya, we HAVE established that already) and one of my eyes is a bright amber colour, and the other is a dark emerald green. As opposed to like, a dark emerald red or something.
"Caw! Caw!"
Hermes flies in through the conveniently open window. Hermes, in case you didn't know because he was just clumsily introduced a second ago, is my pet falcon. (He's called Hermes after the god that flies, because he flies? Right? GET IT I SO SMART).
"Hello Hermes, my dear beautiful pet falcon whom I love," I say, petting his soft feathers.
"Kill… me…." Hermes chokes.
"What's that my dear beautiful Hermes?" I ask, "You think Bryony and I should go to visit our horses? Well, if you say so." I put my beautiful pet falcon in his cage, locking the door very tightly so he can't ever get out. Ever.
"Come along Bryony!" I call, skipping merrily down the corridor. Our lives are so filled with pain and misery, I honestly don't know how I cope.
Bryony and I make our way down to an abandoned field of convenience. There we find our two beautiful horses. I leap on my horse's back and begin galloping down the field, with the wind streaming in my hair. As I ride, I think of the time when I first found my dear Spirit.
[harp music playing]
Bryony and I were walking down the road when we came across two horses.
"Neigh," said one of the horses.
"Hey. Look. Two horses." I said. "We should adopt them."
"K." Bryony said.
"Neigh," said one of the horses.
"Wow," I said, jumping on one of them. "He's so beautiful. I shall name him Spirit."
"Fuck you," said Spirit. "I mean, neigh."
[harp music fades out]
Ever since then, we have kept the two horses as pets. Bryony and I ride our horses almost every day. How did we know how to ride them? Not important. Where are the fields in District 7? Not important. How do we avoid the authorities, get horse feed, or hide them? Less important than what Donald Trump had for breakfast today (the soul of an immigrant puppy, if you were wondering).
You know what IS important? Moar backstory!
I keep my dear Spirit tethered in a field, as I have done ever since I discovered him. He's tried to kill himself five times, the rascal! He is a beautiful horse with shining brown hair and a wild mane who looks exactly like the horse Spirit in the Disney movie Spirit for some reason. Such a sexy sexy horse, that one.
As I ride, my hair flows out behind me in a shimmering fiery curtain, like every Disney princess wind-shot ever. Bryony lags behind a bit, but she still needs her training wheels. Do you even put training wheels on a horse? Might be why she's so slow.
"Bryony!" I cry, "Hurry up! We're going to be late for the reapings!"
"Then why the heck did we go on this ride?" Bryony shouts. "I mean, yeah, let's go!"
Leaf Barker, 12, D7M
I wake up to the sound of dogs barking.
"Oh mah gosh! Dogs barking!" I whimper, before I remember. My parents and siblings were all brutally murdered when I was a baby for the terrible crime of jaywalking. However, the Peacekeeper spared me because I was just too cute! Afterwards I was raised on the street by a pack of friendly wild dogs.
Mama Dog bounds in, wagging her tail. She licks my face with her tongue (as opposed to, like, licking my face with her eyeball or something). "Mm," she moans in a way that sounds oddly sexual now that I've typed it. "Tastes like chicken."
"Thanks Mama Dog," I say. giving her a hug. I go out to do my begging rounds so I can get money for the essentials, like food, shelter and diapers.
"Hey!" I say to a friendly neighbourhood drug addict. "Can I borwow your sign?"
"Of course!" he says, melting into a puddle from my cuteness.
"Thanks!" I say. I cross out NEED MONEY FOR FOOD and replace it with NEED MONEY FOR XBOX.
Immediately a crowd of women run out, squealing like a white girl when presented with a puppy.
"Here!" they screech. "Take my money!"
"Take my credit card!" one shrieks.
"Take my kid!" another yells.
"Do you accept cheque?!" a woman squeals.
"Take my panties!" a blonde woman yells.
"Oh my god Mildred he's like nine you wierdo," a woman snaps. Mildred licks her lips at me.
"Here you go," a girl says, handing over a huge wad of one dollar bills to adorable ol' me. "Don't spend it all on drugs!"
"Yay!" I giggle. "Now I can go to da stwip cwub!"
"Ooh, the reaping is in a bit," says the girl, checking her watch. "You should go get ready." She pats me on the head and runs off. I'm so lucky everyone in the District loves me so much even though we're all starving. Yesterday, my birthday, the entire District pooled together enough money to make me a giant cake. Five children starved to death!
I make my way back to my corner of the street. As I walk down, everyone smiles and waves at me as my aura of goodwill and cheer floods the entire District. Everyone just loves me! I pop into the den to get ready for the reaping.
The Hunger Games can't really be real, right? It all has to be some kind of prank. I don't really like pranks. The dogs all try to play pranks on me sometimes, like trying to put me in the oven at 360 degrees Fahrenheit with some salt and fries on the side and then trying to bite my face off. Hahaha, such pranksters!
Oh well, I think, better get ready. I put on my very best tattered shirt and my finest sock. My clothes are so raggedy and tattered despite the fact that everyone is making it rain at me like I'm a girl disappointing her father. My hair is perfect though, because Arya doesn't get to have all the fun.
"Bye guys!" I say to my family.
"Woof!" They bark back.
I hop on my Little Tikes 4-in-1 Blue Power Rangers tricycle and scoot off to the reapings.
Arya Burntwood, 15, D7F
"It's going to be okay," I whisper, clutching Bryony's hand. "You won't get reaped."
"Excuse me ma'am, please hold out your finger," a Peacekeeper says.
"GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BASTERD!" I cry, unsheathing my sword with a cry of fury.
"Arya," Bryony hisses, "it's just a needle, calm down."
"Oh. Right. Well, this is a bit awkward," I say, looking at the Peacekeeper's decapitated head on the floor. Whoopsies!
Bryony and I scoot around the pool of blood and take our places in the fifteen year old section.
"Hey y'all!" the escort, Fifi Tinkerbell squeals, hopping on stage in her eighteen-inch heels. "How you doing?! Are you all ready for this year's CHILDMURDERCONTEST? Huh?"
I roll my eyes as she goes on with her speech.
"Okay, ladies first," she dips a hand in the girl's bowl and pulls out a name. As opposed to pulling out, like, a severed human arm.
"Bryony Burntwood!"
I gasp. Time goes in slow motion. Just kidding, it goes in regular motion. I see tears appear at Bryony's lashes as she opens her mouth to scream.
"I volunteer as tribute!" I call, my fiery hair the colour of a used tampon flying out in the convenient wind behind me. Hermes flies in a circle above my head and the sky fills with crimson flames as I lift the sacred sword Excalibur from the stone as the prophecy foretold, fulfilling-
"Arya," Bryony hisses, tapping me on the shoulder, "you're overdoing it."
"Right," I say, putting Excalibur down awkwardly.
"Ooh, do we have a volunteer?" Fifi asks.
"Yes!" I say. "'Tis I!" I rush up to the stares, gently shoving Bryony behind me.
"Wow! How predictable I mean brave!" the escort says. "Well, let's give a round of negative reviews to our darling little tribute."
"And now for the boys," Fifi says, once the hour of applause has finished. "Leaf Barker!"
"Yipee!" comes a squealing little voice from the front row. A tiny little toddler toddles up from the front row, clapping his pudgy little hands together. He only looks about eight or nine, he can't possibly be twelve.
Suddenly a huge pack of dogs surround the boy. For some reason he isn't freaking terrified about any of this. He's wearing raggedy clothes, but somehow his hair is One Direction-esque perfect. He isn't even crying, just shaking ever so slightly.
"Wow, not even crying!" the escort says, "how out of character I mean brave!"
"Hiya," Leaf says shyly, batting his eyelashes when he gets up on stage.
"Hello," I say, looking down at him. He looks so sweet and cute. I suddenly realise that I'll have to kill him if I ever want to see my sister. I have a quick second of moral dilemma before I get over it, because it's totally in character for sweet, friendly me to want to participate in these Games.
"Is there anything you'd like to say to the audience, Leaf?" Fifi says, holding the microphone in front of his face.
"Arf! Arf!" Leaf barks, holding his hands up.
"That would be cute if I didn't know about pet play," Fifi says. "Uh, so, clap or whatever."
Leaf beams at the crowd as a chorus of "awws' serenade him. He's so cute.
Do I really want to kill him?
Yes.
(wow what a realistic and difficult moral dilemma)
A group of Peacekeepers leads us into the waiting room. I take a seat in the chair and hear a knock at the door.
"Bryony?" I ask, spotting my sister's familiar face through the door with my X-ray vision.
"No it's Santa," she says. "Can I come in?"
"Of course dear Bryony," I say. My sister rushes into my arms, crying.
"Oh Arya," she sobs, "why did you volunteer?"
"Because I wanted to be Donald Trump's seventy-eighth wife, DUH! No Bryony, I did it to save your life! You're welcome, by the way."
"Oh," Bryony sniffs, "you didn't have to-"
"Bryony, you can barely brush your teeth without passing out from the effort. If you went into the arena you'd be dead before you can say "landmines""
"I know," Bryony sobs, "I'm sorry."
"Oh Bryony," I say, patting her head. "It's not your fault. You have brown hair- how could you possibly be as fiery and brave as me?"
"Yeah, I see."
"Times up!" A Peacekeeper says.
"What? It's been like five seconds!"
"Yeah, but the author can't think of a better way to end this, so get out!"
Bryony leaves, and I sit there staring tragically out of the window. No one else comes to see me, because although Bryony and I are so friendly and sweet and Sue-ish I mean likeable, we don't have any friends. I wonder why.
Leaf Barker, 12, D7M
"Leaf Barker!" the escort shouts, looking at the piece of paper.
Wow, what a coincidence. The boy who was reaped has the exact same name as me!
Wait…
Gasp! It's me!
I think I'm going to cry or show some emotion but I don't because that's illegal. My pack surrounds me, giving me the strength to walk forward. I stand up on the stage next to the pretty girl with the pretty hair. I'm scared but I show as much emotion as those twin girls from the Shining. I pee a little bit though.
Once the escort is finished talking, a group of nice men in white clothes (no, not the KKK- the Peacekeepers, silly!) lead us into a pretty room. All my dogs come to see me, barking and wagging their tails.
"Oh Leaf!" Mama Dog whimpers, "Now we won't ever get to eat you I mean see you again!"
"There's still time," Papa Dog hisses, "if we grab him now-"
"Shh!" Mama Dog snaps.
"That's okay Mama Dog," I say, "I'm sure I'll be fine, and lots of people will want to ally with me. Who wouldn't want to ally with a twelve year-old weakling, right?"
"Right!" Mama Dog agrees. The dog pack licks me goodbye. After that, a swarm of screaming women surround me, throwing money and chew toys at me. They all promise to sponsor me in the Games, because I'm just that cute!
Then everyone leaves, and I'm alone (well duh if everyone's left I'm gonna be alone). I guess if this was a prank someone would have told me by now. But nope, no pasty white fuckboy has come along to stick a camera in my face and tell me about his "social experiment". I guess I really am going to have to go into the Games, huh. I'll have to kill… fight…. pee in the woods….
As the clock ticks by, I can only think one though:
Oh noes.
AN: Hope y'all liked reading! Up next is District 9, featuring the tragic siblings.