Disclaimer: I have yet to own the wonderful book known as the Hunger Games.
See if you recognize this guy from anywhere...
Chapter Dedicated to Silverstardust!!! Why? Because it's my idea!!! Lol. Don't worry, I shall soon write all of your ideas... this file was just rotting at the back of my computer, so I had to post it.
Azentin Onyx (Age 18) male – District 8
After my brother died, I figured that I was no longer a candidate for the Hunger Games. The Capitol already took one from my family, I was safe. I got proven wrong on the very last reaping I was supposed to be a part of. Once they called 'Azentin Onyx' I had snickered at the sucker that was going to die this year, I could laugh because I was now safe.
I noticed everything was silent; nobody was walking to claim their death. I realized that the sucker was going to be me, and those words caused some of my more unpleasant memories to come back. More specifically the image was that of my baby brother being impaled by a knife. My imagination had been ever-so graceful to replace his dying body with my own.
Bringing back the guilt that had been temporarily housed inside my mind for the past three years. The guilt that was there because I didn't volunteer for him, even though I very well knew that there was nothing else that I could do. To me it was either he or I was going to die, so it might as well have been him. I was too close to being safe. I can't help but wish that I was able to do something.
But now, sitting in the damp cavern, I knew what he had felt, abandonment. The stalactites were illuminating the small portion that I had made my camp, water dripping from them ever so slowly. Drip, drip, drip, at least because of this there was never a shortage of water. There were enough bats hanging around to keep me full. The only thing absent was sunlight.
The disadvantage of this cavern arena was that every sound echoed. You would know the general location of someone, but you wouldn't be able to tell where they were headed. And sometimes you would think that that someone is chasing you, but in reality, it is the echo of your own footprints. The best thing at those points was to hide in the shadows and hope for the best.
I leaned against the damp cave wall, chewing on a bat wing, my knife by my side. Dripping water still echoed, the only sound in the cave. I knew that there was a group of tributes by the Cornucopia, which was in a larger cave with a high ceiling; at the top you could see the sun. That is how I know that I'm in an underground cavern. Most of the other tributes were in caves with in this network, nowhere near mine. So I did not expect anyone to be talking, much less calling my name.
"Azzy! Azzy, help me!" A young boy's voice called, filled with fear. My ears twitched up, the voice still echoing among the rocks. This had to be a mistake. I haven't heard that voice in three years. That voice belonged to Yoshi, my dead brother.
"Azzy, hurry please!" The voice calls again. I bolt up, dropping my wing and grabbing my knife. I start to walk cautiously in the general direction of the voice.
"Azzy, faster, she is coming!" I'm sure this is my brother's voice now. Could he still be alive? I start to run to his voice, as the last remains echo off of the walls. Fear and hope fill my brain. I follow until the sound wears off, and I'm at a junction in the cave. Is it left or right? Light is to the left, right is pitch dark. I can't tell which way to my brother.
"Azzy, she is coming closer! She is going to hurt me! Save me!" The voice comes from the right. I start to sprint, panic increasing. I can't let my brother die again. I come to a dark chamber. His voice is still echoing, but I can't find him.
"Yoshi! Yoshi, where are you?" I call out panicked. For a second I fear I'm too late.
"I'm here! I'm down here! She's holding me! She is going to cut me! Save me Azentin! Please! I'm only thirteen! I don't want to die! Help me!" I run forward, and jump into the dark center of the chamber expecting maybe a ten foot drop.
What I don't expect is a fifty foot drop into stalagmites. I grab onto a root hanging off the side and feel my arm being ripped from my socket. My knife falls, and I hear it clattering on the ground. I look up and see what I think to be a bat on the branch that I grabbed. Then I realize that it isn't a bat. Jabberjay. And I fell for its trap.
"Why didn't you save me, Azzy? I'm your baby brother; you said you would look out for me." The bird says before it takes off. How dare they mimic my baby brother? Was his death not enough? Lost in rage, I reach to grab it. Only, I let go of the branch in the process. I join my knife at the bottom of the pit.
I'm going on the impression that the Capital knows how to rearrange the voices of a person so that they say what they want it to. They did that with the screams, and Beetee said that those techniques were taught to children. OK, thus I continue my updating spree. Thanks to all who read and review!!!
