Deadly Waves - The 26th Hunger Games

~Part 1 - Chapter 1

Life in District 4 is anything but exciting. There is little excitement or variety to break up the monotony of our everyday lives. Every morning follows the same routine: waking up early with father to go out on the water at dawn, the ship moving through the gentle waves. My little sister always wants to come with me, but mother insists that she is too young and claims she will scare away the fish.

Today, however, was different. Instead of going out to sea, I was destined for the factory. The morning light filtered faintly through the thick fog that covered our city, bathing the cobblestone streets in an eerie glow. The air was heavy with the smell of salt and fish, a familiar scent that clung to everything in District 4.

The clatter of dishes downstairs woke me from my sleep. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I looked out the window and watched the foggy weather that enveloped our city. The fog crept lazily between the buildings, obscuring the horizon and giving our otherwise mundane surroundings an almost mystical quality.

From the window I could see the usual hustle and bustle. Fishermen walking wearily to the docks, their silhouettes barely visible through the fog. Women haggling at the market stalls for the day's catch, their voices faintly heard through the fog. The foghorn of a distant ship echoed melancholy, a constant reminder of our dependence on the sea.

As I walked down the stairs, the familiar smell of freshly baked cornbread mixed with the smell of the sea. Mother was already busy in the kitchen, her hands moving skillfully between the pots and pans. She smiled wearily at me as I walked in, her eyes reflecting the exhaustion of someone who had experienced too many early mornings.

"Good morning, Percy," she greeted me, her voice with a hint of warmth despite her tiredness. "You're late today. Breakfast will be ready soon."

I nodded in agreement and sat down at the worn wooden table. The cozy kitchen, with its faded curtains and worn china plates, was the heart of our home. The walls were decorated with weathered pictures of our family fishing trips, a testament to our connection to the sea.

"When are you assigned to the factory today?" Mother asked me as she easily set the table for my sister Anya and me. Anya looked at the blue patterns of the fish on the otherwise very dry wooden bowls, which were immediately filled with bread, some soup and a spoons.
"I'll go straight after breakfast," I answered her question and slowly took a bite of the bread. "The reaping is tomorrow morning," Anya said with a hint of reproach in her voice. I immediately put the spoon aside and thought about tomorrow Day.

Yes...tomorrow is the reaping day. The Capitol will come to take a boy and a girl into the Capitol and have them fight to the death with 22 other "tributes." I'm not yet 18 and therefore, like the last four years, at risk. The probability is Naturally low, and there are actually some boys who volunteer to bring home fame for their family.

But last year was pure horror: for the first quarter quell, the districts had to choose their own tributes instead of doing a draw. I'm lucky that I generally have a lot of friends. However, Jonathan Kyle wasn't so lucky. Nobody really likes him, even though he hasn't actually done anything to anyone. He was always a very quiet guy who tried to find his place. He always made these unfunny jokes so that others would like him, but somehow no one really gave him a chance. When his name was called, I could clearly see his fear, his fear and his horror in his eyes. The last words he said to us: "I didn't do anything." Then he was put on a train together with the female tribute Tara Jarnus, who was chosen primarily because of her annoying and mean nature, and neither of them came back.

"I don't want to talk about that, Anya," mother said as she also sat down at the table. She also seemed to have the same fear as me that my name would be called tomorrow. I swallowed at the thought and left upstairs with a "I'm not hungry" and got ready for the factory, wearing gray pants, white shirt and black apron. I washed my face to get rid of the last bit of tiredness, put on my shoes and left the house.

On the way to the factory, the fog enveloped everything in its cloak. Carriages, people, wheelbarrows, you could hardly see anything. Here and there I could see a few lamps. So I was already heading in the right direction. A ship's horn could be heard. So father had already set off to sea. However, I won't be catching any fish today, I'll be processing them.

"Percy!" called a voice to my left. I turned around and saw a figure running towards me in the fog. It was Valos, one of my best friends. "It's rare for people to see you in the factory " he said with a big grin as he patted me on the shoulder and we continued to follow the street lights together. "Yes...I mean...About time," I replied and looked at him. Valos is firmly convinced that it is "mathematically so unlikely that he will be drawn that it is almost impossible." I personally don't share that opinion. Although I know little about mathematics, I know more about fish and water. But I know for sure that I can be the name that gets drawn every year.

When I arrived at the factory it was my job to behead the fish. I put on gloves and began using a knife to prepare fish one by one for deliveries. Standing next to me was Valos, doing exactly the same thing. In total, our entire group of friends was there, everyone except Michael, who we lost two years ago in the 24th Hunger Games. He did really well. After defeating three Tributes in a three on one, both District 1 Tributes and one District 2 Tribute, it was just him and the female District 2 Tribute. But before he could draw the blade from the District 2 boy, He was beheaded by an ax.

In the dimly lit factory hall, surrounded by the haunting smell of fish, the gloomy mood divided between us as the conversation turned to the upcoming Reaping and the dreaded drawing of lots.
Valos, who had dominated with his luck so far, dared to reveal the number of his tickets: "I have thirteen tickets... thirteen! A record!"
Collin let out a nervous laugh. "Yes, but you're the only one who's lucky. I'm just as lucky as a broken boat."
Spencer tried to break the gloomy atmosphere. "Guys, we just have to hope it's none of our turn, really."
Simon nodded in agreement. "That's right. I for one don't want to compete with Valos' winning streak." I sighed. "Honestly, I'd rather beheading fish here than having my name in this damned bowl. What do you think?"
Valos grinned. "We'd better keep working. The reaping isn't until tomorrow...And that can really wait."
The dim factory once again filled with the sound of scraping knives on fish scales as the group distracted themselves with jokes and a hint of fear about the impending drawing. Nobody in this round wanted to see a single ticket in this bowl

"Look Perc, there's Martha over there," Connor pointed, pointing to a pretty girl across the hall. Yes, Martha was really pretty, but I admittedly find another person sweet: Valos, we've known each other forever and he's just an incredibly nice and helpful boy.

The day was coming to an end, yes, the day before the reaping is always the shortest, and before I knew it I was sitting on a rock by the water at sunset, listening to the crickets, the gentle sound of the water and the wind in the wind trees.
"Jo Percy...can you promise me something?" asked Valos, who sat down next to me a good half hour ago
"Clear. What?"
"If...If I'm reaped..."
"Yes...Then I'll help your father in the factory. We've had this topic often enough," I replied. I really hope that Valos isn't drawn, on the one hand I would loose a good friend and on the other hand we would also lose a top worker in our ranks.
"Do you ever think about what it's like? In the Capitol?" he asked me.
You don't hear much about Capitol. But from what we hear, it is an incredibly beautiful and magnificent place full of bright colors and lights. But it's also the place where 23 children go to and never come back.
"I honestly don't want to know. My home is here"
I said, looking at the lake that was slowly turning black in the shadows of the night light.
"Sure...But...I think it wouldn't be so bad. As long as you don't have to go to the arena, of course," Valos commented
"So...Good night...I'll see you tomorrow" he said and got up, nodded goodbye and went back towards the city.

"Hopefully the day after tomorrow too" I said to myself before I got up and found myself in bed an hour later.