Hortensia Hendrix, 25 years old, District 13 Victor of the 1st Revival Games


The tricky thing

Is yesterday we were just children

Playing soldiers just pretending

Dreaming dreams with happy endings

In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

Keep your eyes open


By the time I won, it had been six years since I died. It doesn't make any logical sense, but here I am. Alive.

Today is Reaping Day. Although I hate this time of year, it gives me something to live for. All of the children I mentor, whether they are bloodbaths or potential victors, are reasons for me to keep going. Every single one. They all deserve someone who knows what the games really are.

My family moved to District 13 a year after the war ended. My father and mother were originally from District 10 but moved to District 13 due to the prospect of new jobs and a small sum of money the Capitol lent them. Life in District 10 was rough and mundane, but District 13 offered something new. Once I was 16 years old, my family made a decent living. I never went without food and didn't take out tesserae, but that did not save me from the wrath of the Capitol.

This year's Reaping is the same as usual. The Capitol plays the same dumb nationalistic video every year, and the children have a mixture of boredom and fear on their faces during it. Sitting up on stage with only a few other political figures is lonely. The Mayor and his family praise me, but they have no clue what I am going through, and after a while, it becomes sickening. All this praise is just for killing other kids.

Johan, District 13's escort, has enough gel in his hair that he looks greasy. Greasy, like a greaser. I snicker at my little joke about his appearance. In all fairness, his style is relatively plain compared to most of the Capitolites I have seen, but he still loves his fancy makeup and clothes. I've only known him for 3 years. He is kinder than the escort District 13 had when I won. That escort almost seemed disappointed that I got chosen for a 2nd chance at life.

I didn't trust many people back then. Sure, I had my family. But my dad was an abusive drunk, and my mother emotionally neglected my siblings and me. So I learned to do things by myself and not rely on others. I eventually began to trust Aminta. She was my Capital provided mentor, but she reminded me of home more than anything. Aminta is the reason why I won the 1st Revival Games. She got me sponsors, when she could've left me to die in the arena. Her faith in me is what I give to all of District 13's tributes.

"Hello, District 13; I loved that video. Now I'll announce the tributes for the 96th Hunger Games." Johan says with a smirk on his face. I can't help but roll my eyes at how annoying he is.

"As you all know, I start with the boys because I can do whatever I want." Johan remarks as he reaches into the boy's bowl.

I smile before laughing softly at his joke, which earns me a few weird looks from the Mayor and his adult family. Maybe it's inappropriate to laugh, but maybe Johan shouldn't be so over the top then. It's hard to take his greasy ass seriously.

Johan motions his hand around the bowl and picks a name in the middle of the pile. "The male tribute is…. Valerian Ashwagandha!"

I look around the crowd and try to see whoever Valerian is. It's hard to see everyone in a group of roughly 20,000 boys. Minutes pass, and no one has walked down the aisle yet. I've seen kids freeze up and have to be carried up the stage by peacekeepers, so this is nothing new.

"Valerian? We have a time limit." Johan says with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Peacekeepers start to go towards the back of the crowd where the 18 year olds are. I stand up out of my chair as I watch an officer grab a black haired boy out from his peers. The boy's eyes are red, and he looks to be high in the clouds. I wouldn't be surprised if he was on something. I dabbled in some marijuana when I was a teenager, like many people in District 13, but I never had the nerve to do it on Reaping day.

"Ow, man, you're grabbing my arm too tight!" Valerian yells at the peacekeeper and attempts to yank his arm away.

I raise my eyebrows as I watch the peacekeeper nearly launch Valerian onto the steps leading up to the stage. Valerian's knees hit the ground, and he sinks into the mud. The earth is muddy, and it covers his clothes in brown liquid. I feel my mouth gaping open as the boy slowly stands up.

I have no idea how to react. I would have laughed if this had happened back when I was 16. But now, all I feel is pure shock.

"Can you just draw again?" The boy groans at Johan as he walks up onto the stage.

Johan purses his lips and flares his nostrils as he looks at Valerian. "No, that is not how this works. Any volunteers?" Johan says towards the crowd.

Unsurprisingly, no one responds to Johan's question. With the support of Aminta, I started up a small academy in District 13 just 2 years ago. I don't want my home to turn into a career district, but some training wouldn't hurt for those who have the extra time. Regardless of that, volunteering isn't the norm here. Some do, but they are an anomaly.

"And now for the girls." Johan walks over to the female bowl and dips his pale hand into it. He moves his hand around the white paper slips and picks one towards the left.

As Johan opens the slip, I sit back down and wait for the name.

"Annalise Plenna!" Johan announces.

Everyone is silent for a few seconds, and no one seems to move a muscle. Soon, a short blonde girl walks out of the 14 year old section. I watch as she trudges up to the stage, her green eyes darting around as if she's looking for help.

The young girl eventually makes it up to the stage with no mishaps this time.

"Happy 96th Hunger Games! Now you two shake hands!" Johan beams at the crowd.

Annalise and Valerian shake hands before we are all taken into the Justice Building by peacekeepers.


Zera Humphreys, 32 years old, District 11 Victor of the 82nd Hunger Games


This land is your land

This land is my land

From the Californias to the New York island

From the redwood forests

To the gulf stream waters

This land was made for you and me.


I hum a tune my mother taught me. It's a tune of an old song that's banned by Panem, but it's been passed down in my family secretly despite what the law says.

I've been known to not follow the law, which has cost me nearly everything. I have no immediate family, and the only person I truly love is Wells. He understands me as he has been through everything that I have. He spilled another person's blood and came out alive despite it all. He understands why I drink until I'm no longer crying about my past actions.

I watch as children begin to fill the square below me. There are roughly 15 minutes left for the stragglers to come to the Reaping. Most of the kids coming in at this time live on the outskirts of District 11. They arrive on buses.

Due to how large District 11 is, public transit is free on Reaping day to ensure everything moves smoothly. It would be impossible for everyone to walk to the Justice Building within a few hours.

When I was of Reaping age, I lived reasonably close to the justice building because my father worked as an agricultural engineer. He made enough for my mother to stay home and care for my siblings and me.

Everything reminds me of my family, but they aren't with me physically anymore. They've been dead for many years, and part of me wishes I had just shut my mouth on the Victory Tour. But instead, I spoke a few words, and they took everything I knew away from me. Imagine coming home to everyone you love - gone.

And with the final child walking into the square, the propaganda video plays. The words and music is muffled through the poor quality speakers, but it is still intelligible. And after listening to identical words for over 20 years, I can now hear them in my dreams.

I haven't met this year's escort until now, but I was told his name is Pompilius. A really over the top and ridiculous name. If I ever have a child with Wells, I'll never give them such an amusing name. Instead, I'll choose something simpler and sweet, like Numa for a girl. The thought of having a child is horrifying in this world, but part of me still wants a baby with my lover.

Pompilius taps the microphone once the video is done. This guy's silly name is fitting due to this weird material on his head. It looks like a bunch of blue and brown worms. I have no clue how he thought this was a good look for his first appearance in District 11, but whatever. To make things stranger, he looks like a raccoon with how much black eyeshadow he has on.

"Hello, District 11. I am Pompilius, and I will be your escort for this year! Now, let's see which male and female will go to represent District 11 in the 96th Hunger Games!" Pompilius says.

"Ladies first," Pompilius says as I watch him slowly move his hand around in the girl's bowl before picking a slip of paper on the top of the pile.

"Celandine Leavy!" Pompilius declares.

I see some shuffling around in the 16 year old section, and a path is soon made. A tall brunette girl walks through the route toward the stage. Her eyes are widened, and her mouth is slightly agape.

Celandine slowly walks to the stage and keeps her head low. I feel myself frown slightly as I look at her. I'm used to the sad faces, but it's still a pitiful sight. She eventually makes it up here, and I turn my attention to Pompilius.

Pompilius goes over to the boy's bowl and does the usual dramatics by ominously wafting his hand through the bowl. He eventually picks a slip that is towards the top.

"Soloman Jaxson!" Pompilius says, and I sigh as I can't wait for all this to be over.

The crowd starts to disperse in the 17 year old boy section. Then, a boy who looks older than 17 starts walking towards the stage. The boy has no hair on his head or eyebrows. His appearance is bizarre, making him stand out in an unusual way. Maybe it's a fashion statement?

Soloman has a blank look as he holds his lips in a slight frown. He makes it up to the stage quicker than Celandine did. With both of them on the podium, they shake hands, and I am left alone to think about their odds of survival once they enter the Justice Building.


Skylar Fargrove, 28 years old, District 9 Victor of the 84th Hunger Games


King for a day, princess by dawn

King for a day in a leather thong

King for a day, princess by dawn

Just wait 'til all the guys get a load of me


With Laelia walking on the stage, The Hunger Games have officially begun. Laelia is my District's escort, and she has always been a fan of "gothic" fashion, as it is called in the Capitol. Her skin and hair are always as white as snow, while her clothes are as dark as the midnight sky. This year is no different.

Gothic fashion seems to be on the rise in the Capitol. Part of me likes makeup, but sometimes all the piercings and body modifications they participate in become too much. I've always been one to sneak my older sister's makeup while she was off at work, where no one would see me doing it. Thankfully no one bats an eye at me doing it anymore, as I am sporting some light golden eyeshadow right now.

"Happy Hunger Games District 9!" Laelia says with a loud booming voice.

"I wish you all luck. Now for the girls." A smirk formed on Laelia's face as she walked to the female bowl. It's as if we could both feel the tension from the crowd. Only her reaction to the anticipation is a sadistic one.

I tap my fingers on the arm of my wooden chair as I watch her open up a white slip. Laelia opens her mouth to announce the girl's name, and I instinctively hold my breath.

"Rudy Buckner!" Laelia announces to the crowd.

Rudy doesn't take long to make herself known. A small statured girl walks out of the 14 year old section with a snarl on her face. The little blonde girl is wearing a cute but slightly worn blue dress. Every pair of eyes in Panem are on her right now, and I am impressed that she hasn't broken down.

Most tributes cry, even if they are on the older side. It's a death sentence to be reaped from District 9. Only five people have made it out alive, and it is the 96th Hunger Games. Such unlucky odds.

Rudy walks up the stairs and onto the stage. I spot her staring at Laelia with a snarl even worse than the one she initially had. I can feel the tension from several feet away. If I gave Rudy a knife right now, I think she would try to stab our escort. But, hopefully, she keeps that same energy and fights in the arena.

Being a fighter is good, but being rebellious is dangerous. Every mentor knows that the Gamemakers do not play fair. Rebellious tributes seem to be targeted if they begin to insight too much unrest in the Districts. Or if they threaten what the Capitol stands for. Eugh.

Laelia glances at Rudy and simply ignores the look the girl is giving her. She moves on to the male bowl while giving District 9 a charismatic smile. "Now the boys are up!"

Laelia wastes no time by grabbing a slip. She digs her hand deep into the pile of paper and randomly chooses one. "Clive Whitaker!"

After a minute of nothing, a young boy is nudged out of the crowd by the others. He's taller than Rudy, but I can tell by his youthful face and bright red sunburnt cheeks that he's no older than 15.

Clive starts to drag himself up to the stage, and I see a few tears roll down his cheeks. He's glancing around the crowd as he wipes from under his nose. I also notice that he has a long scar on the left side of his face. Perhaps this kid has had a rough life leading up to the gnarly scar, and it just got a million times worse.

Whatever the case is, I am sure I can ask him where he got it from.


Wells Payne, 35 years old, District 7 Victor of the 79th Hunger Games


Welcome to the room of people
Who have rooms of people that they loved one day
Docked away
Just because we check the guns at the door
Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades

You'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you
You'll never know the murderer sitting next to you
You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?"
But after all I've said, please don't forget


My name is Wells Payne. I have been a mentor for 17 years, not including the 1st Revival Games, which were a mindfuck in themselves. Unfortunately, I had to mentor two tributes for the 2nd time who both died previously in the Bloodbath. Seeing their faces again after their deaths was one of the worst things I have ever been through out of my 17 years of "working."

I would call this more like torture and slave labor than a typical job because if I called this a job, then that would imply I had a choice to choose this position. I was forced into mentoring because, at the time, I was the only victor from District 7. Now Lennox is here after winning the 92nd Hunger Games, but his mind was permanently left in that arena. He's no good now. I feel a fatherly presence over him as I have been the one to help him survive all this time. And I am not talking about just in the arena. Surviving doesn't end once you've won the Hunger Games.

You have to go through interviews that can twist any word you say, Capitol and Victor parties, and even meeting the president himself a few times if you are unlucky. That can take a toll if getting out of bed in the morning takes most of your strength away.

After many years, you become numb to the death around you. I'm unsure if I want my tributes to make it out of the arena with how Lennox turned out. But, I believed it would help me feel better - to not feel alone.

How selfish that was.

Now Chrysta taps on her microphone to get everyone's attention. I ignored the video they play yearly because I've heard versions of it for as long as I can remember. I'll probably hear the words in my dream tonight.

"Hello, District 7! Let's get on with the Reaping of the 96th Hunger Games!" Chrysta says as she smiles at the crowd of citizens.

Chrysta's entire body is plastered in gold. She proudly claims that her skin has been tattooed this color and that it is not "fake" body spray paint. With how much she boasts about it, I would have thought she'd be a stylist instead of an escort.

I watch as Chrysta walks over to the boy's bowl and dips her golden hand into it. The woman pulls out a slip after sloshing her hand around the bowl.

"Conleth Rowan Boyle." The woman announces to the crowd after reading the paper slip.

I hear some murmuring from the crowd of boys. A brunette boy soon walks out of the masses from the 16 year old section with a slight frown. From up here, Conleth is taking the news of his likely death reasonably well.

Conleth quickly makes it up to the stage and stares at the crowd. I look at his face, and he's sweating slightly, probably from nervousness. At least he is not sobbing in front of everyone. So far, so good.

Chrysta smiles at Conleth, her teeth being nearly blinding due to how unnaturally white they are. She pats him on the back before walking over to the female bowl. Chrysta reaches into the bowl and waves her hand around before picking a slip near the top.

"Maylis Alivia Poirier." Chrysta reveals to the crowd before throwing the slip of paper to the side.

I scan the crowd and watch as a brunette girl walks out of the group. A girl embraces her before letting Maylis go to walk down the aisle toward the stage.

I notice Conleth visibly tensing up as Maylis approaches the platform. Maybe he is nervous seeing his district partner? Who knows. This is probably the most shocking moment of this boy's life.

To my surprise, a boy darts out of the boy's section and wraps his arms around Maylis. She hugs him back, and I watch as tears fall out of her eyes. She did an excellent job hiding the tears at first, but now they are all out for Panem to see.

Peacekeepers start to pull the boy and girl away, causing them both to scream as they are ripped apart. The boy is carried away as he yells and cries. Maylis is escorted up to the stage by 2 Peacekeepers on the left and right of her. It's a sight that makes me slightly sick to my stomach, but there is nothing I can do about it.

Maylis stands on the stage and weeps as she stares at the crowd with wide eyes. Her limbs are visibly shaking, and her hair is messily stuck to the sides of her face.

God, hopefully these kids are lucky. It's not looking good so far.


Eleodoro Martinez, 21 years old, District 5 Victor of the 94th Hunger Games


So outside of my misery, I think I'll find

A way of envisioning a better life

For the rest of us, the rest of us

There's hope for the rest of us, the rest of us


Hiding is all I have done my entire life. I hid from my bullies in school, my abusive dad, and the fact that my mother was emotionally unavailable at best. I got reaped when I was 18 years old, almost when I was safe from this nightmare of a competition. No one thought I stood a chance, including my mentor, who chose not to train me. She was from the Capitol and was disappointed that I was her tribute.

So, I did what I always have done. I hid. I didn't confront anyone during the 94th Hunger Games until I had to kill another soul to make it out alive. The part of me that wanted to survive killed them, but I didn't feel like myself during it. It wasn't me, and it still isn't.

But it doesn't matter, as I am still forced to mentor both tributes yearly. It's hard to tell a tribute how to survive when most of them don't have the survival skills required to hide for a week or more with little food and water. And what if they get an arena where they can't hide?

The female tribute for my District this year is Elektra Luminata. Her name is fitting, as her hair is nearly as bright as the sun. It had an unnatural hue, so there is a good chance that she dyed it that color. This means her family has money, which is an advantage and disadvantage in the arena. She won't be malnourished, but she probably doesn't have survival skills.

Elektra took the news of being Reaped like a champ and walked up to the stage with no emotion on her face. I've learned a lot from last year, and emotionless tributes are more likely to be sponsored than the ones who cry or attempt to run.

The male tribute for my District this year is Cabel Frost. Cabel is unusual, to say the least. He is the first volunteer from District 5 since the Mockingjay Rebellion. I am unsure why he volunteered as I haven't had time to talk to the tributes yet. Right now, they are saying their goodbyes to their friends and families. He looks physically healthy, but I expect that from a volunteer tribute. I did notice that he has scars on his arms that look self-inflicted, so this could just be a suicide attempt. I won't know until I ask him, though.

I push my hair back off my forehead and lean over in my armchair. The goodbyes go by fairly quickly, so I don't have much time to think… I wish I had helped with mentoring. All I did was cower away and avoid confrontation the entire time. I barely spoke at the interviews, trained by myself, and lasted through the Hunger Games alone. Not every tribute can do that, and so far, my strategy hasn't worked so well.

Hopefully, this year, it'll all change.


Sarah Jackson, 35 years old, District 3 Victor of the 78th Hunger Games


How can you see into my eyes like open doors?

Leading you down into my core

Where I've become so numb

Without a soul

My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

Until you find it there and lead it back home

Wake me up inside (save me)

Call my name and save me from the dark (wake me up)

Bid my blood to run (I can't wake up)

Before I come undone (save me)

Save me from the nothing I've become


My head is pounding from last night.

I have nightmares every night before the Reaping. Reapings and Mentoring always bring back horrible memories of what I saw nearly 20 years ago. And what I did. I'm famous for electrocuting children like they were pieces of fish, and I am not proud of it. I did what I had to do to survive, but even the sound of a grease fryer makes me physically ill.

A knife breaking skin is also a horrible sound that I hear in my nightmares. It is like I am being tormented for the sins I have committed. I was forced to kill, or I would've died a painful death like everyone else. Maybe that would have been better, instead of living this miserable life where I watch my people die yearly.

I wish I could be more like Nydia. The girl I brought home manages to be much stronger than me. She survived the horrors when she was only 13 and doesn't seem to care. If a tribute from our District dies, it is like another day for her. I would rather be emotionless than tortured daily by things I cannot control.

We have a new escort this year. I met her before the Reapings began, and she is fairly friendly. I watch as she waves to the crowd and laughs as she is met with silence. I shift around in my seat as she opens her mouth to speak.

"Hello, District 3! My name is Marcella Cruz, and this is my first year escorting! I am soo excited to be here!" The young woman jumps up a little as she grins at the crowd.

The new escort has most of her body covered in rocks and jewels, with some of them plastered on her shoulders and her face. The young escort likely got a body modification because of how expensive and realistic the gems look. I guess that is what you do when you have more money than you know what to do with.

Marcella is met with stares and brooding faces by the crowd of children and their parents alike. No one is happy to see her as she is the one herding District 3 children to the slaughter like cattle. District 3 tributes are stereotypically bright but weak, although I have met fragile and less intelligent tributes. Everyone in this community knows that our odds are low.

"Girls are first, as always." Marcella softly smiles at the crowd of at least a thousand girls unlucky enough to still be in the running for the Reaping.

District 3 has a few preliminary Reapings before the main one shown on Panem TV. I am not sure how it works in the other Districts, but I know for District 3, it is because of the sheer number of children under the age of 19. According to Mayor Franklin, without the preliminary Reapings, the square would be overrun and unsafe.

Marcella stands in front of the female bowl after walking over to it. She dips her hand inside the glass and swirls her hand around before picking a slip on the side.

"Yulixa Diordna!" Marcella exclaims before throwing the piece of paper to the side.

I let out a sigh after accidentally holding my breath while she called out the girl's name. I have a few family members who are of reaping age, and I couldn't imagine mentoring my own blood. I doubt I actually could without losing my mind.

The poor girl isn't coming out of the crowd. It's been about a minute, and Marcella tries to convince the girl to come up to the stage.

"C'mon up, sweetheart, don't be shy," Marcella says.

The girl finally separates herself from the rest of the females and walks up to the stage. Her eyes are vast, and her eyes are staring off into the distance. I shake my head as she makes it up onto the stage and looks at the ground.

Marcella dips her hand into the boy's bowl and picks a slip from the middle of the pile.

"Cooper Bronze!" Marcella announces.

A young blonde headed boy quickly walks out of the boy's section, not taking much time like Marcella did. He walks down the aisle without any noticeable expression on his face. He seems to be taking it better than Yulixa, but Cooper most likely just hides his emotions better.

I narrow my eyes and blink as I watch Cooper climb up the stage instead of using the stairs. Weird… but not the strangest thing I've ever seen a kid do.

A smile starts to creep up on Cooper's face as he opens his mouth to speak, "Where did the computer go dancing! The disc-o!" Cooper bursts out in laughter and holds his stomach as he does.

I blink and glance at Nydia to ensure I am not imagining this. Nydia looks back at me and shrugs before putting her eyes back onto the little blonde boy. Cooper Bronze is one weird kid. No one is laughing with him, and most of the crowd looks horrified as they watch the boy giggle.

Marcella grins and ruffles Cooper's hair like he is a pet. "That's a good boy. You remind me of a golden retriever."

I feel myself becoming slightly nauseous as Marcella compares Cooper to a dog. Finally, I start blocking them out and stare at the stage floor.

I want this all to be over.


Jaylee Murray, 31 years old, District 1 Victor of the 83rd Hunger Games


Can we go back? This is the moment

Tonight is the night, we'll fight 'til it's over

So we put our hands up like the ceiling can't hold us

Like the ceiling can't hold us


As of the 90th Hunger Games, District 1 has slowly climbed up a mountain to its past glory days. Before the 90th Games, training was banned in District 1. Some people did it secretly, but most were just trying to make it through their lives without much trouble. This led to a period after the war was lost where most tributes from District 1 died in the Bloodbath or early on. For example, when I was reaped, no one volunteered for me. So I went into the Games without training and managed to win by chance. I got lucky. That is the only reason I am still alive. I could've died like Janelle.

I have no problem with Career tributes. They terrified me in the Games, but now I know they are necessary. It is better than an unexpecting child getting reaped. The old traditions of the Games being honorable in District 1 have slowly become popular after revoking the rule against training. Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to it, District 1 citizens are happy, and I get to mentor tributes who have a fair shot at winning. Everything is balanced this way.

The chosen female volunteer for this year is Larimar Reltova. Her mom and uncle won the Hunger Games before Katniss' Rebellion started. They were among the few victors that survived the war, and their legacy of excellence continues through Lari. I've known Larimar for a while, and she is hands down the best female volunteer for District 1 I have seen since the rebellion. She has her family's fame going for her and their training. Depending on the other tributes this year, she will be unstoppable.

The chosen male volunteer is Midas Relia. Funny enough, he is also related to a victor from District 1. So the legacy ties this year are strong; hopefully, both tributes can handle the pressure of performing as well as their family members. Midas is a very tall and robust tribute. On the downside, I haven't seen him get along with any of the trainees in the academy. He seems to intimidate the rest of the kids, and I don't think he has many friends. So that might be a downside for him in the arena. Nevertheless, he's my tribute for this year, so I'm already thinking of strategies in my head to make sure he does well in the arena.

Right now, I am waiting for the goodbyes to be over so we can start our train ride to the Capitol. The ride isn't long, and we are one of the first Districts to arrive, so we are required to stay overnight in the training center while the farther Districts take longer to come in. The goodbyes for this year will be cheerful - in contrast to the year I won. My mother could not stop sobbing as my little brother tried to comfort her. My father wasn't active in my life and didn't come to visit me before I left.

Thankfully things have changed.


A/N: It's been over a month. Hi everybody! I've been swamped processing some things… Anyways. We are done with The Reapings. The Hunger Games have officially begun!