I like to pride myself on being able to survive everything, so far at least, so I think I have a pretty good chance at surviving The Hunger Games. I mean, I'm not dead yet so how hard can surviving a couple more weeks be? I'm a pro at it.
A girl's head rolled toward my platform after stepped off her plate too early, and I got an idea. Excitement started to build in anticipation. Why didn't more people do this?
When Claudius Templesmith's counting reached two, I almost stepped off my plate too early, I was that excited. At one, I was overfilled with the need to laugh. I giggled so hard, I snorted. My hand covered my mouth and my blue eyes were twinkling with joy.
When I was able to run off my plate, still giggling, I snatched the girls head and her upper torso. Skipping away with a stack of meat under my arm, I couldn't help but think that the arena was beautiful. They really did a remarkable job on it.
I skipped until I found a small, secluded lake on the very edge of the forest.
I started to think about all that food I denied on the train. And I grew hungry. Very hungry. I wonder why we don't eat human meat at home. I tested the flesh on her neck, lightly pushing my teeth against her skin. Some type of unknown emotion twisted in my gut and I paused. Hunger winning out, I rip into the flesh, sucking it in as fast as I can. It tastes like chicken, better than chicken even.
No matter how much flesh I consume, I still want more. The texture changes but I don't even slow down. It wasn't until I reached the forehead that I realized the texture change was her eyeballs.
A day ago, I would have been disgusted.
That was before I realized how good human flesh tasted.
Soon the forehead is gone and hair is clogged in my throat. I coughed until the hairball finds its way out of my throat.
I use the back of my left hand to wipe my mouth. It comes away soaked in red.
I ignore it and start on the torso.
Soon that's gone too.
I need more. I need more. The bloodbath should still be going on so I doubt the hovercraft as come to take the bodies away yet. Overcome with joy, I run the whole way there. My hair was sticking up, but I didn't care. All I cared about was the meat.
Picking a girl whose head looks like it was bashed in by satan's stick, I begin to feast.
Suddenly I don't feel so good.
My insides churn like period cramps and I hold my stomach, willing it to go away.
It intensifies and I start to gasp for breath, suddenly feeling like there wasn't enough air. I think eating the flesh wasn't such a good idea.
My death is slow and painful. And as the tears wash the blood off my face, I just wish to die, that someone will come along and finish me off.
But no one does.
Now I know why we don't eat other humans.
YOU ARE READING
The Hunger Lames
FanfictionThe real 74th Hunger Games. (collab with unspoken_words_ - I wrote the odd chapters, she wrote the even chapters) sOmEoNe never finished the last chapter so you know 23 is enough
