Aslan 'Ash' Dreadstorm, 17, D4 Male

The one sense that I'm able to register is how full my lungs feel. I can't get a single breath in without choking on heavy saltiness that seems to engulf me at all angles. I try to open my eyes but I only catch a glimpse of the rushing blueness before my eyes squeeze back shut from the burning pain.

I'm not even sure what is going on. One moment I was in someone's arms wrapped in a thick towel and the next I'm freefalling through an infinite ocean of… nothingness. All I know is that I don't like this feeling and that I want it to be over.

Just like that, it ends. I don't feel like I'm drowning anymore. Instead, I'm standing on one of the decks that adorn the beaches of Four, alone except for the faint sound of seagulls filling the air.

This is better. I feel more at peace. I definitely prefer being here over wherever I was before.

Before I can get comfortable the planks on the deck erode into shreds and fall into the water in a trail leading to where I'm standing. I back away at first and then turn to run, desperate to escape being thrown back into the unforgiving sea. I barely manage to throw myself off the side and onto the sand below as the last of the deck falls into the water.

However, once I make an impact with the ground, I don't simply land on it as one would expect. Instead, I fall through the sand as if it were air, and I land backside-first on a bed of grass. Curious, I look upward. It's just a teal sky. Weird.

Not knowing what else to do I just walk down the grassy field, my hands in my pockets. A nice stroll never hurt anyone.

Just moments later a faint rumbling noise catches my attention. I turn to notice a crowd of people running top-speed from some unknown direction. They're all carrying bundles of fish in their arms, and some have nets entangled around their bodies. As they approach a few of the fastest ones dash past me, screaming. One woman collides with me and we both fall to the ground. I silently curse as she scrambles to get up. Before she can leave, however, I grab her by the elbow.

"Wait, wait. What is going on?" I ask her, noticing the sweat streaming down her face. How long have these people been running?

"Let me go! You're going to get me swept up!" she says, her voice shaky and frightened. I glance in the direction of the caravan of sprinting people and notice nothing other than them.

"Swept up by what?" I question. Her lip quivers like a sad puppy.

"The wave!"

Before I can inquire any further she breaks free of my grip and runs off, her beaded braids swaying behind her. By now a much larger crowd of people are surrounding me and I'm even struggling to get up because I keep getting stepped on.

Just as I'm able to get to my feet, I notice an eerie shadow enveloping the area.

Now I know what that woman was talking about.

A ridiculously massive tidal wave looms over, swallowing the entire sky. I'm shocked not only by its size but by how it's appearing with no ocean in sight, just plains in all directions.

Strangely enough, I'm not fazed by it. As the last people sprint by I simply stand my ground, completely unbothered by this threat. Something is telling me that I have no reason to be worried.

The wave, now mere yards away, curves downward, preparing to wash everyone in this field away. As it impacts the ground I notice that none of the sprays from the water has touched me. Surely, I would have been feeling a salty shower by now. I remain in my stance.

The wave starts to decrease in size until it seems to evaporate, the water hissing into thick steam that rises upward into the clear sky. By the lack of footsteps, it seems as if the people have stopped running as well. I notice them all scattering towards me now. They all form a circle around me.

"You saved us!" the same frantic woman from before cries out.

"But I didn't do anything," I insist. Still, they start to approach me, reaching out to hug and thank me. All this affection is making me a little uncomfortable.

"Uh, I have to go," I try to say, but one of the peculiar people insists that they need me and that I'm their hero. Suddenly I'm lifted into the air and carried like a martyr. I try to struggle and get myself back on the ground but they're insistent and stubborn as can be.

"Well, this is just great…" I mutter to myself, already annoyed. Why do people have to praise me when I do something good? It's not like I don't know what I did.

In a sort of unexpected turn, I notice the crowd leading me towards a large, gaping hole in the ground. A dull sense of panic starts to creep in.

"Where are you taking me?" I demand from one of the robotically ecstatic people. She turns to me with an empty smile on her face.

"Taking you somewhere you can't escape so we can always have you when we need you, big hero!" she says in a sickly sweet voice. My eyes start to bulge.

Oh, hell no.

There isn't much I can do as I'm tossed lazily down the hole, though I don't scream, and no pit in my stomach forms from the freefall I am in, until I notice a blinding beam of light flood my eyes.

…

I awake with a stifled scream and a strange feeling like I'd been tossed from a tall building. My hair is plastered to my forehead. I can't remember the last time I've sweated this much, even during exercise and shifts at the docks. Usually, when I awake from a nightmare it's a miserable, gradual awakening. Waking up screaming is what happens in movies after the main character rises from some horrifying, prophetic dream that decides the plot of the movie somehow. I know I'm not that melodramatic.

It's still four in the morning so I decide to just do some floor exercises until my 5:30 morning shift. Might as well keep busy. Knowing I did a job well done is one of my few pleasures in life, and it's not like I can do it with a cloudy mind and an untrained body.

Still, I'm beginning to wonder more and more if what I dream about has something to do with my life before Mom and Dad adopted me. I know I was adopted as an infant but I always had a feeling something dramatic happened to me and whoever birthed me.

I guess it doesn't really matter, anyway. I'm here now, and I'm going to be here a while if I have anything to say about it.

Azure Copenhagen, 18, D4 Female

I giggle as I notice the prompt provided to me by my diary, many of the lines blank. Looks like this is going to be a long one.

Write down something that defines you. It can be big or small. Ex. I am the hardest worker in my district.

I tap my pen against my chin in thought before scribbling away in my neat writing.

"People can be mean sometimes. That's something I've been woefully aware of for pretty much my entire life. And the reason for the ridicule I receive is so silly, as well.

My parents taught me that as long as I have a good opinion of myself, it doesn't matter what others think of me. In my earlier years, I usually failed to see that kind of logic, but as I've matured and the bullying kept persisting, I took their words to heart and continued to be happy with myself. Oh, how it drove the others crazy! Still, it would be nice to have just a few friends.

Growing up in an isolated, upper-crust part of the district meant certain stigmas stuck with the community. You might call us traditional. The women usually stuck to the house, caring for their children and spouses. I've always thought we looked like a blast-to-the-past gone bad when I went to explore the more carefree parts of the district where anybody could be anybody, and there were no unwritten rules or assigned roles. Still, those parts were worse off than us, so I don't have much room to complain.

Mom says these attitudes began after the 100th Games, where conditions in the districts began to slowly get better, and outliers started to win the Hunger Games more. Some people in the Career Districts began to say that we were losing our values, and that good, wholesome tributes raised in a stable family environment were the key to disciplined children who would return as Victors. I understand that I guess, but what I don't understand is why me being born out of wedlock automatically means I'm the worst person to ever exist.

I'm called a bastard, illegitimate, a product of lust, all kinds of hurtful things that don't really need to be said. Who cares about any of that? We weren't living in the stuffy old world, as much as the richer people in Four liked to pretend. It's especially frustrating since I don't impact their lives in any way whatsoever. Know what I mean?

Anyway, I have to go to bed early tonight because the Reaping is tomorrow. I honestly can't wait to see the look on those stiff's faces when I volunteer! I definitely earned it, I think. I just hope none of them shout at me as I walk up to the stage.

-Azure, June 9th"

I close my leather-bound journal with a smirk on my face. My journal never judges. I can confide all my troubles in her, and she's such a great listener, too! I love my brothers, and I love playing with them, but they aren't what I would call "venting" material.

"I'll talk to you when I get back," I tell my still relatively empty journal. I stand still, silent for a moment, pretending it was responding to me.

"No, I can't bring you with me, sorry. Just in case I don't return, I don't want you getting left in the Capitol to become some dummy's weird art piece." I turn onto my back, staring at the blank ceiling.

"But don't worry, I will come back. I'll rip little twelve-year-olds limb to limb if that's what it takes. Anything to bring my family some honor."

More silence.

"Yes, I know I sound like a psycho, and yes, I know saying it's for honor is cliche. But what else would it be for? I'm just crazy talented. I wonder how many headshots I'll be able to get." I grew excited at the thought of a shiny metallic bow made just for the Games. That was another thing people teased me for; my unconventional weapon. Kids from Four were supposed to use tridents. I never had any use for those silly-looking forks. If I wanted to spear somebody I'd just use a spear.

Unwilling to sleep I continue to fantasize. I imagine myself covered in blood, my face crimson and shiny. I wouldn't smile though, cause then I'd really look like a psycho. I'd probably make the last person's death as painful as possible to give the audience a good show. Since I can't maim someone with a bow I'll use my mini machete to make them bleed out. That's how I'd be so covered in blood, I guess. I'd look solemn like it's something I don't really want to do but have to because it's my duty. The truth is, I can't wait to show my hidden side.

I spot my lovely coral sundress hanging on my closet door. I'll really look like a princess in it, and it'll complement my complexion perfectly. I think being a princess is the angle I'll go for. My parents and brothers always tell me I carry myself like one. For years I took that as an insult until I learned to embrace my elegant composure.

A princess needs her beauty sleep. A princess needs to rest. My eyes flutter closed as my whole body feels like I'm on a cloud.

First double-POV, for Azure and Ash. Hope you liked them! Their POVs were a bit different in structure but that's just because I didn't want you to get bored reading the same thing over and over. Next is Aurelia from Five. Thank you for reading and be sure to review!

-Aemma