David Hammer
I lie in bed and watch a long-legged spider that slowly crawls up the side of my wall. I reach out and pluck it from the wood, and dangle it by one its legs.
The leg seems to slip from its body and it fall onto my bed and eagerly makes a break for escape. Curious, I keep grabbing it by the legs and each time the spider releases its leg until only one is left and I let it go and watch as it desperately tries to move. It can only manage to drag itself with its lone leg around in circles. I am fascinated by its display and wonder if the spider knows that it's defense mechanism has in turn killed it.
I watch it curiously as it keeps freaking out and tries to move. I grow bored of it quickly and flick it off my bed before burying myself within the covers.
Tomorrow is reaping day. If I am drawn for the games I will not be scared. Although I am only twelve years old I have something I know the other tributes do not: the ability to kill. I am not afraid to take another's life and will not hesitate.
Most people are just like the spider. They try to protect themselves, but in the end their attempts become futile, and they are left to die. Watching them writher around like that spider will not be grotesque, it'll just be fascinating to watch.
Alice Leigh
"Alice! What's up?"
I carefully close my book making a mental check of my page number, and look up to see my neighbor, Robert, crossing the lawn towards me.
I wave to him and he takes a seat next to me, and picks up my book.
"So how do you like it?" He said examining the worn out spine.
"It's okay, but it isn't my favorite. Don't get me wrong, I mean the writing is marvelous I just can't seem to get fully enveloped in the story, that's all."
He nods. "I understand I felt the same way actually, but I knew you'd be able to appreciate the work that went into it."
"Oh of course I do!" I could appreciate any book that landed into my hands whether I enjoyed it or not.
I have a lot to thank Robert for. He's the one who got me into reading a few years ago. Here in Panem the books are hard to find. You have to be in a higher authority or live in District 3 to get a hold of them, and even then it's hard to find the fiction stories. The ones with made up characters that go on amazing adventures. The books that will make you laugh and cry, when you begin to feel like you are actually in the story, then when the book ends you long over the characters in the story until you realize that it never existed. That was the part that made me depressed, and I would long more than anything to be apart of it.
Robert's family has handed down the books for generations and he lets me borrow them. I weep for the day that I finish the last one, but until then I will lose myself in each and every page.
Robert leaves me with another book before I go. I skim through the pages and see that it looks there's some romance. These stories are usually my favorite and the anticipation is so great I'm about to start reading the first page right now. I must be patient though and finish the one I already have. There's no need to rush, there are many days left for me to read all these books and I must make it last.
At least I think there are many days left. If I'm drawn for the Hunger Games tomorrow it could be a different story.
David Hammer
Nobody, not even my own parents, know the mind that I possess. I am manipulative and I have everybody around me convinced that I'm just another innocent Hammer boy. I have three younger brothers, the oldest is ten and youngest is only five. Being the oldest I am looked at with more responsibility, but this just helps my appearances more. I am viewed as a young boy who had to grow up much too fast. I am essentially alone because I have nobody to take care of me the way I care for my brothers.
Yeah right.
The people here respect my family. We are severely poor, but my parents work hard to make ends meet. I often exaggerate this circumstance and walk around without shoes or with the same clothes two days in a row. The other citizens pity me and they often give me money, and donate old stuff to me. One time I actually got a brand new pair of sneakers and even some candy from somebody who lives in the richer areas. They actually got together and decided to raise some money to buy me new stuff.
Like I said, people are easily manipulated.
Another problem people have is their perceptions. I am only twelve-years-old and my body is bony from the lack of food. I have found this is to my advantage because nobody expects any harm would come from such a young, frail boy.
I don't care if people look at me and think I'm weak. I don't need muscles or height to get what I want. People will be more willing to be controlled when they don't realize it. Let them think those things, it'll be their own stupidity that'll kill them in the end.
Alice Leigh
As soon as I walk through the door my brother tosses me a bow and hands me a few knives.
"Let's go kid, I want to hunt."
I shake my head at him. "Mark I'm only three years younger than you, and I'm not short so you don't need to call me kid."
"But you are a kid. Now come on before it gets dark."
I love living in District 7. We are allowed to roam in the forests, and that means it's easy to hunt. Even though hunting game is highly illegal, we take the risk because my family needs meat, my brother likes the thrill, and I love the forest. When I step into the woods I feel like a new person. It's just like a book; a place where you can lose yourself deep within and forget about life even if it's just for a moment.
I catch movement to the right as a squirrel rustles through the underbrush. I pull the knife from my belt and wait patiently.
The squirrel rummages a while in the bush. My aim is not great, so trying to throw my knife into the bush would just be a shot in the dark. I wait until the squirrel dashes towards the safe haven of its tree, and scurries up the bark as though its defying gravity. This is when I make my move.
I provide sudden distraction by scrapping my foot softly against the leaves, and rustling them. The squirrel stops on the bark to check out the source of the noise. It's too late though as my knife slides from my hand and straight through the squirrel, pinning its body against the bark.
"Nice," my brother applauds me and I can't help but blush at the fact he's been watching me.
"Thanks," I say as I retrieve both my knife and my catch. "Did you get anything?"
He holds up a fox by its tail. My brother is an amazing hunter; after all he is the one who took me out in the woods all these years, and taught me the proper techniques for shooting arrows and throwing knives.
"Nice catch Mark, but fox meat sucks no offense. It's like trying to chew rubber."
"I know, we'll just have to soak it overnight to soften it up a bit."
I shrug my shoulders and we continue hunting until it's too dark to see in front of our faces. This is the safest time to head back because Peacekeepers are less likely to see us. Our hunt yields nothing else but a few more squirrels and one rabbit.
I am not bummed though because I feel refreshed and more alive than I have in a while. I dig up a few edible roots, and some wild onion while walking with the intentions to make some kind of rabbit stew. All and all I feel blessed, as I'm knowledgeable in both hunting animals and foraging in the woods, which is something not many of my peers have had the chance to learn.
I set a pot to boil and my brother helps me skin the rabbit when we get back. Although I can catch the food, I am still an amateur in preparing it for proper eating.
"Pick the parts we cut off to eat," he asks. I stare into the bloody rabbit and can't help thinking everything just looks the same.
"Cut the intestines and innards out, unless you want to eat those," he commands after I've stared at it for far too long.
"I thought I was just going to eat it as it is," I say sarcastically.
I end up butchering the rabbit while trying to remove the necessary parts, so my brother takes the knife from me in frustration and begins fixing up my mess. I make my way back to the kitchen and start cooking the vegetation. I'm the only one around here who can cook anyways so I'll just let Mark do his thing.
My father is out working late again. He's carpenter, so my job is to help him by collecting the lumber for him. This is how I've become so accustomed to the woods. My mother passed away in childbirth, and I've never known her. My father picks up the slack by working too hard, my brother brings home extra food, and as I grew older I took over all the 'womanly' duties. We've managed just fine, and I never feel sad about my mother. Unless you counted the nights that I've dreamt about her. Then she starts to seem like a real and tangible person rather than just a woman who died as she gave birth to me.
I stay up most of the night because I desperately want to finish my book so I can start the next one. I imagine leaving for the reapings without ever getting to set eyes on a page and the thought breaks my heart. Plus it'd be impossible for me to sleep right now.
Because of my decision to stay up I'm too tired to do anything so I decide to stay home from school the next day. My father and brother spend their days working so they'd never realize it anyways. I don't feel like getting out of bed so I go between a wakeful sleep and reading my book. Around noon I hear a loud knock on my window and I roll to my side to see Robert pointing to my window to let him in. I heave the window open and he crawls in, and decides to make himself home on my bed.
"What are you doing here?" I ask as I crawl in next to him.
"I noticed you weren't at lunch and I figured you had the right idea skipping school. I mean for all we know we might not be returning anyways."
"Don't say that Robert."
He holds his arm out to me and I curl up next to him. He pulls the book from the crook of my arm, and scans through the pages.
"You're already reading this one?"
I nod my head, and pull it back from him. "I'm on this page already." I say as I flip through the book.
"Wow, no wonder you decided not to come to school. You've probably been reading all night."
I smile and close the book.
"I wish we could leave," I finally say after we've a few minutes of silence.
"Why Alice? Because of the reapings? Chances are we won't get chosen anyways."
I shake my head at him. "I've been thinking there has to be more than just the day-by-day routines that are laid out for me. I wake up. I get dressed. I go to school. I read. I eat. I help my father. I go hunting with Mark. I make supper. I go to bed. Repeat."
"Life isn't a storybook Alice. No matter what you do, or what you change about it, it'll never be like the books"
"I know… I just want to run away, and see something new" I sigh unable to properly communicate how I'm feeling. There was a longing to get far away from here. I just knew that somewhere something marvelous was happening and I was missing out.
Robert shakes his head at me. "Bad idea Alice, the Capitol will find you and they'll surely execute you in front of the whole district as an example."
"I know Robert. Believe me I've already thought about it."
"Hey don't get mad," he thumbs through the book until he finds the page where I left off. He begins reading to me. I can't hear the words he's saying, only his voice, which is gentle but strong. I lose myself in the sound. My eyelids threaten to shut, and soon I'm hanging between reality and dreamy sleep. I imagine standing in the square, there are names in the bowl and greedy hands reach in to pull them out. They hold their slips open and show the names they've picked. My name is on every single piece of paper.
"Alice, don't fall asleep on me," Robert is nudging me awake, and my eyes shoot open.
"Sorry," I whisper.
He chuckles, "Don't worry about it Alice. I just think it'd be a fair trade-off that if I read to you, you could sing me a song."
There are only a few people I feel comfortable singing in front off, and Robert isn't one of them. However, ever since he spotted me singing in the woods one day, he's begged me off and on to sing again. Right now I am too tired to argue with him, so I sing a song my brother taught me when I was six-years-old. He told that he remembered our mom used to sing it to him before she died.
I let the words leave my lips. The song is soft and mellow and I sing until my eyelids grow heavy again and I fall into oblivion.
When I wake I am tucked into a blanket and Robert is nowhere to be seen. A loud knock on my door tells me why I woke up.
"Alice you need to get ready to leave!" It's my brother and I wrap my blanket around me before crawling out of bed and walking to the door.
Mark sighs with relief when I open it. "Come on kid, get yourself dressed. I'll walk over with you."
I brush the tangles out of my long dark hair and quickly wash up to make myself look more presentable. I have already picked out my outfit: a red dress. It's one of the few dresses I've had the pleasure of owning. I slide it over my head and adjust the locket around my neck before running out of my room to join my brother.
David Hammer
When I return home from school that day, my mother pulls me into an embrace and cries silently. "First they let us starve, and now we have to sacrifice our children."
"It's okay mama," I summon tears from the corner of my eyes, and this makes her even more upset.
"You're so strong. Come on let me get you washed up and we'll put some nice clothes on you."
My mother scrubs my hair and digs through my closet to find some nicer clothes. She pulls out an old shirt, and some kind of tan pants. They shirt is too big on me, while the pants suffocate me. I check my appearance in the mirror. Though the lack of dirt makes me look a little older the shirt I'm swimming in takes that away, and my appearance still give the impression that I'm nine-years-old.
"You look wonderful!" My mother says when I emerge, and I just want to slap her.
She chaperones me to the reapings and I grab her hand while we are walking. We run into my neighbor upon arriving who is here with her sixteen-year-old son.
She tousles my hair, and sends me some words of encouragement.
"It's such a shame," she shakes her head. "Twelve and thirteen-year-olds allowed to fight and kill."
She then leans to eye-level with me. "Be brave David." Is all she says and gives me a weak smile.
I sniffle, "I'm trying. I don't want to go to the games. If my name gets drawn I'll have to leave my brothers, and I won't be there to help Mama and Father take care of them anymore."
"Oh," she looks at my mother with sympathy, "it's so sad." She begins to cry and excuses herself.
I say good-bye to my mother because I have to check-in and stand with the other boys my age. I'm not friends with any of them, but they recognize me and smile. I smile back obliging, pretending that I share their concern.
The mayor does her spiel, and a Capitol woman approaches the microphone. Apparently she has the honors of picking the tribute names.
"We'll pick from the male side first."
I don't really want to go to the games. I know I probably won't survive until the end, but I know I'll get to teach a few people a lesson. I imagine these Hunger Games are some kind of selection, so only the strong will come out and the weaker are eliminated. Perhaps it's for the best.
"David Hammer!"
The escort has called my name. I have this planned already, and I look around confused. A few of the other boys look at me with sorrow and pat me on the back. I grudgingly make my way to the stage and I hear a cry that has to be my mother from the back of the crowd.
Oh well. What do I have to live for anyways?
"He can't be twelve-years-old!" I can hear the whispers of the parents at the back of the crowd since the younger kids stand in the back. "He looks to be about eight-years-old."
"That's the oldest Hammer boy. He's such a sweetheart."
"This isn't right!" Somebody else eylls.
My walk to the stage is long and I play the crowd by throwing in a bit of a limp as I walk. An uprising has started and is spreading through the crowd. People are upset that a young, innocent boy is being sent to the games. The odds couldn't be anymore in my favor.
Alice Leigh
The crowd is in a fury that a young twelve-year-old boy has been chosen. I couldn't be any angrier with the Capitol than I am now, but I stay silent. It's not smart to start getting rowdy when the rebellion is so fresh in the Capitol's mind. I am frightened that they will start killing randomly.
One Peacekeeper pulls a gun from his pocket and shoots it into the air. The crowd is suddenly quiet. They know that noise, and they know what it means.
Belladona, the escort, is looking a bit disheveled, but she brushes it off and reaches into the bowl of girl names.
I suddenly catch sight of David and I see tears streaming down his face. I feel horrible for him. One second I'm thinking that it's impossible to imagine how he feels and then the next second my name is called, and I'm about to find out.
David's tears have ignited a feeling of hopelessness and I'm about to cry as well. That's when I see Robert as I am walking to the stage. He is standing at the edge of his section and holds his hand out to me. I grab it as I'm walking by and he squeezes it, a smile on his face.
I imagine I'm in a story. I'm about to embark on a wondrous journey, and if I am able to return I will be forever respected and admired. I climb the stage and refuse to make eye contact. I can't risk seeing my brother right now. He has been my role model and leaving him is going to hurt worse than leaving anyone else.
Belladona asks us to shake hands, and David stares down at his feet as he offers a weak hand. I grasp it and his arm is limp and somewhat lifeless. I'm in shock, and I want to grab the boy and run away from this.
David suddenly drops to his knees and sobs loudly. His back rises with each short, deep breath he takes.
It makes me wonder how much longer we'll both be breathing.