A Hunger Games was held here once. It would be hard to tell just by looking, but it's true. It wasn't a Games anyone remembered. Another round of sacrifices, another Victor who would fall into obscurity. The towering hall of rock carved into the valley would be washed clean, and returned to the wonder of the world it once was. It was called the Grand Canyon, back in the Dark Days. Then it was a stage.
People forget things all too easily. Keys. Wallets. Anniversaries, birthdays. Children. It's easier for people to forget lost things. It allows them to go on.
The rock has not forgotten. The rock will never forget.
It was a Games like any other.
Twenty-four children stood in a circle. In the center, a Cornucopia stood, proud and shining. A clock hovered above it, counting down. A nation held its breath.
60, 59, 58…
The sun beat down on the tributes' heads. Sweat dripped down their foreheads, their necks, their backs. A few stood with their chins up, ready. More trembled, their faces pale and hands clammy.
30, 29, 28…
The sky was blue and bright, taunting them from above. The rock stood orange and brown and beige, as it always had.
10, 9, 8…
Soon, it would be painted red.
3.
Twenty-three to die.
2.
One to survive.
1.
The rock remembered it all.
hey gang it's me again! sub info on my profile :) check it out or don't whatever floats ur goat. see u soon!
rb