Okay, I apologize for my other tales, but I have a huge case of writers' block! AAAAGHHHHH! It's driving me nuts! So for now, here's an idea that just popped into my head a few months ago. I lowered the ages of each band member: Murdoc: 18. Noodle: 12. 2D: 15. Russel: 17. Enjoy!
Murdoc
District 8. Textiles. Not the kind of place you'd expect a guy like me, eh? Well, I live here. District 8 is one of the remaining twelve districts. We used to have thirteen. Long story. Today is a big day for all the children from ages twelve to eighteen. Today is Reaping Day. My name is Murdoc Niccals. The Niccals family has never lost a Hunger Games. Never. My father, Sebastian, is the victor/tutor for the next two kids to be "chosen" for the Games. There are only two Niccals' left in District 8, not counting my father, and that's me, Murdoc, and my despicable brother, Hannibal. Everyone's expecting us to win.
I strap on the long purple cape and pin a diamond studded skull brooch on the front. I'm only eighteen, but I'm pretty tall. I must get a lot of odd looks due to my abnormally yellow skin, red and black eyes, and greasy black hair. But the girls can't get enough of me. I strap on my worn down brown leather hunting boot and inspect my appearance in the mirror. Everything's in place, snub-nose and all.
Hannibal stands behind me, dangling a small snake by my ear. He's dressed in a frayed black vest and black pants with black leather hunting boots. His blood red eyes pierce my soul and I'm guessing he knows I'm scared. He sticks his pointy nose by my ear and whispers, "Scared, little brother?" He's only a month older than me, but who cares? I'm still the little brother apparently. "I'd break your nose a fourth time, but then you wouldn't look presentable when I'm chosen as Tribute." He snickers.
"Boys, stop fighting. Hannibal, put that snake down. We're going to the Justice Hall early." Sebastian says, tightening the cuffs on his wrists. He places a top hat on his mop of greasy black hair and leads us out the door.
By two o' clock, the whole district has gathered in the Justice Hall square. Me and Hannibal stick out due to our all black ensembles. I look up to our Capitol representative. A flamboyant woman with bright purple skin, curly fuscia hair, a shrunken waist, electric blue eyes, and long fingernails. She wears a fuscia gown to top it off. I roll my eyes.
"Welcome to the District Eight Reaping for the Seventy-Third Annual Hunger Games!" She says. "Now, presenting the mayor." She waves a hand toward our white-haired mayor, who pulls out a long piece of paper and begins reading off the tale of the Dark Days, when District 13 rose up against the Capitol. He then reads the Treaty of Treason.
After a few more things I'm not paying attention to, Miss Capitol-lady-whom-I-never-bothered-to-learn-her-name steps up to a big round bowl on the girls' side. "Ladies first!" She says in her annoying Capitol accent. "Nova Crystal!" A small, mousy haired girl with large-rimmed spectacles and frizzy brown hair steps up to the platform. No one volunteers for her.
Miss Capitol trots over to the boys' bowl and digs around.
"Murdoc Niccals!"