Glade Kazemi

Glade was finally ready. It was the morning of the reaping and Glade hadn't slept. He had planned on volunteering at the reaping today, against his parents willing. Although his father, the Mayor, supported the games and looked up to The Capitol, he always had frowned upon Glade's dream of becoming a victor's mentor. Glade had been obsessed with the games ever since anyone could remember. But being the Mayor's child meant that there was only a slim chance of his name being drawn. Ever since the first game Glade watched, he'd come home from school and pretend to be a tribute. He'd run around the garden screaming and shouting, engrossed in the ideas of becoming a competitor.

Glade stood there gazing into a mirror. He was tall and handsome. He had ragged shoulder length blond hair and the most piercing blue eyes. His build was a lot like a career's, he was muscely and stood at about 6"4. The majority of the kids within his district idolised him. He came from a rich family and was built like a brick wall. However his intelligence lacked slightly. It wasn't that he was stupid, but he didn't excel at anything either, apart from fighting. It was customary for the majority of kids to start work early in his district, so Glade could wield an axe by the time he could walk. Even though his parent's were rich, Glade insisted on working from an early age. Well at least he did until he saw his first Hunger Games.

Glade quickly became obsessed with the concept of winning the games. He dreamed to become the mentor of a future victor and knew the only way he could do this was by winning. Even though his father supported the games, he was against Glade's dream of becoming a victor. However at the age of ten, Glade gave up what little work he did and instead returned home from school to train in secret. His grand-father had left him replicas of an old victor's throwing axes. They were silver with a gold pattern engraved into them. The weight on them was perfect along with the balance. Glade's father spent most of his time in his study, and his mother owned a crafting shop. This meant that Glade could train in his garden without being noticed.

Years of being envied by everyone led Glade to believe he was above most people from Panem. He would show of his stature to everyone in his district at any given chance. In his opinion no-one was as smart, strong, handsome, witty and generally outstanding as him. He had to lead at everything. When he was not allowed to lead he occasionally had what could only be described as sub-psychotic tantrums.

By the age of seventeen, Glade had become deadly accurate with the throwing axes. He had even learnt how to craft and wield a two handed axe. Glade was recognised throughout his district for his career type build, however no-one knew of his plans to volunteer. The years of training gave him a distinct advantage at winning over the majority of his district, yet it did not guarantee him a place with the careers. Glade idolised District 1 and planned to lead the career pack in this years Hunger Games. He knew it was a long shot but he was determined. In the previous year, someone from Glade's class had been reaped. Glade didn't know much about the kid, however when he was ripped limb from limb by a career from two, couldn't help but laugh at the kid's pathetic attempt of survival. Finally this year, Glade was ready to make his district proud and put the careers to shame. He was going to volunteer.

Freesia Andromeda Sayers

"UP!" Freesia's father had wrapped his hands around her wrists and was forcing her off the examining table. Her body was frail and weak so it didn't pose as much of a challenge. She lay there on the floor in a heap, as pale as a ghost. Ever since her mother had died, Freesia and her sisters had been neglected by their father. Out of spite, Freesia starved herself to get attention. She would paint her face white and lay on the morgue's examining table until her father was forced to remove her.

It was the day of the reaping and Freesia had spent the morning doing what she always did, working in the church and trying to get her dad to notice her. Before her mother died the 'Sayers' family ran a hard working funeral business. It was Fressia's job to decorate the corpses before they were either burnt or buried. But now they live at the back of the woods in an old worn church. Their business is as dead as the family living there. As she layed there on the floor uncomfortably her father sunk into the old tattered chair sitting in the corner. He sat there deadly still and said nothing. Fressia got up and ran to her room, tears streaming down her face.

Freesia hulled open her cupboard doors and hung there stood a lone dress. It was her mother's wedding dress, worn and moth eaten. Freesia removed it from its hanger and slipped it on elegantly. The sleeves were ripped and there were holes dotted about it. She turned and traipsed across her room until she was standing face to face with the floor length mirror. The girl looking back at her had blonde knotted hair. It was dirty and greasy, swept to a side to keep it out of her eyes. The knotted locks hung down her fragile structure and ended just above her hips. She had small pale grey eyes and shallow cheeks. Those who knew her mother say the two look identical. However her father's stare still looks right through her as if she were invisible.

She let out a cold sigh, pains in her stomach that didn't really register anymore starting to rise with the thought of the hunger games approaching. She had stopped eating to become this, and it still hurt less then her fathers treatment of her. He didn't want her anymore, all he did was go about his job. He was selfish, but he would learn one day. She would eventually gain his love. The sound of hovercraft overhead drew her away from the wardrobe, and gave her nothing but the option of heading out the front door and to the games... alone and without her father to guide her.

Finnion Longridge adjusted his blazer and then stood there attentively on stage whilst the final kids filled in for the reapings. Finnion had been District 7's escort for so many years now that people struggled to remember who was came before. He had short styled brown hair, although it was turning grey as he started to age. He wore the same immaculate white suit every year and always wore the same sullen expression with it. When he first started he was a young, attractive games enthusiast, however as he aged he slowly was consumed by boredom. Since he had been the Districts escort they had one once and that was 15 years ago. Finnion had hoped for a promotion which he had not yet received. Minutes later the district was standing silently waiting for Finnion to start.

Finnion took a step closer to the microphone and began to speak "Welcome to the 36th annual hunger games, as ever I am your escort and like always we shall start with the males." His voice was dull and mono-toned. He trudged over to the large raffle containing every boys name from the district ages twelve to eighteen. He unravelled the paper and in the same indolent voice read out "Hain Wald" The tiny thirteen year old boy stood there momentarily, his jaw had dropped and his eyes had widened, the crowed all turned to face him just as the poor boy fainted and fell to the floor with a thump. The audience gasped but it was quickly silenced by a deep, gruff voice shouting "I volunteer!" With this every bodies head shot to the left to see a tall handsome adolescent standing their waiting for an applaud. Before anyone could react Finnion had let out a giant shriek of excitement and was frantically clapping his hands together. Since the last victor, Glade had been the only tribute from District 7 that would even stand a chance of winning the hunger games, no matter how slight it was.

Finnion who was now jumping up and down at the thought of a victor bounced over to the large glass bowl containing a sea of potential female tributes. He plunged his hand deep into the container and pulled out a single name. The name on the paper belonged to none other than Freesia Andromeda Sayers. The girl, who currently had her eyes fixed on the slip of paper Finnion was holding slowly made her way to the stage. She was wearing a tattered white wedding dress which dragged across the ground collecting dirt as she went. As she climbed the stairs onto the stage her dress got caught and the bottom teared. Freesia didn't even look down to see the damage she just continued walking, her eyes fixated on the paper. She finally came to a halt next to Finnion and dropped her gaze. What ever excitement the escort had been feeling before was now gone. He stood there for a minute staring at the starved, pathetic little girl from the church, hoping for another volunteer.

A/N

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