THE HUNGER GAMES: FALLEN AXE

Part 1: The Reaping

My eyes filled with tears as I sat up screaming in absolute fear, as a cold sweat poured off my skin, soaking the bed sheets. "Haymitch," my mother screamed sprinting over to my room. I quickly pulled my self under the covers, allowing the wool blanket to engulf me as she entered, irritably chafing my skin. "Haymitch, it's ok, I'm here." She said, slowly pulling the covers down that I created as my barrier. "It was me" I cried, throwing my arms around her. " Oh, but its not going to be you." She said in a soft tone. "Not once has it been you, and you can bet that it's not going to be you this time." Though her words comforted me, I sensed something unsure about her voice, and I wasn't too dumb to understand false hope. " Well, c'mon then, let's get you dressed, The Reaping is in an hour."
The Reaping is the day when hell surfaces the earth, punishing humanity for its sins. Life would definitely improve if that were reality. Instead, the Reaping is one day of the year when the all powerful Capitol of our nation rise above us . When two children from all 12 districts of panem between the ages of 12 and 18 are chosen in a so called " honor", to compete in a barbaric pageant known as The Hunger Games. Your age depends on how many times your name has been put into choice for the games. My name has been in 4 times, making me 16 this year. I also come from the weakest district standing in panem, district 12, putting me in a pretty bad position in the games if I were chosen.
I grimaced in pain as my mother yanked the brush through my hair, a small tuft of it falling to the ground. I spun around, Turing to scold her with a cold stare. "Sorry" she said apologetically. She then continued with her brushing, but this time, doing it in a more soft stroke, evenly parting my blond curls along with the brush.
I quickly pulled on my nicest clothes, returning to my mother for assistance. Suddenly, a long cold siren filled the dirt road streets, filling the house with a grim vibe. "It's time." My mother said vainly. A dark shadow spread across her face, making her eyes look hollow.
The air outside was cool, but had a certain humidity to it, making my skin and clothes sticky we made our way to the Towns Square. As I entered the square I curiously observed the crowd. Many wore a grave expression, some crying hysterically, digging in the Hallows for a sign of hope they won't get chosen. "I'll be right with the other parents, just get in line for the blood test." I shakily responded in a quiet 'ok'. "Hey, it's going to be ok, don't think about." She said reassuringly. I gave a slight nod in response, not wanting to speak much at the thought of getting chosen.
I obeyed her command, entering the line of children, dreading the moment as a peacekeeper jammed a needle into the tip of my index finger, pressing my finger against the indentification sheet, resulting in a crimson fingerprint from the steady and now clotting blood flow.
Peacekeepers, I ironically say are not entirely peaceful, and in fact are the complete opposite of peace. I'd like to identify them as the Capitol's puppets, the ones that create the bloodshed and do the Capitol's dirty work. A large group of peacekeepers are assigned to each district armed to keep its citizens in line, and are basically a second set of eyes to watch over us for the Capitol.
I hesitantly made my way into my age group of children as a peacekeeper gestured, steadying myself in the crowd in front of the square's Town Hall. The Town Hall is laid out as a large building where a years tributes are transported in trains to the Capitol's tribute center, the front of the massive structure laid out as a large stage where two tributes are chosen for the Games. Each year, a citizen from the Capitol arrives in each district and draws the two names of the unlucky tributes, and acts as their escort through the games.
They're all the same, this year is no different.
I watch as she walks onto the stage standing tall, her hot pink heels obeying her footsteps without fault. She walks up to the microphone in complete confidence, her sparkling maroon lips inches from touching it. She taps the microphone twice, sending a loud thump humming through the air above the crowd. "Hello". She says cheerfully, her fake British accent not faulting once. "Hello, and Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" She speaks with a perky tone. I watch as she looks among the crowd, searching for a smile or even a grin. Her expression afterwards approves otherwise.
"Now, before we begin, we have a special video to present, all the way from the Capitol!" She cheers, gesturing to a holographic projection behind her. I watched as the crowd faced the hologram, not taking their eyes off it once. I had no reason to pay attention to it all. If I wanted to hear the president of our nation tell the same story 4 years in a row, I don't even think I would care that much. All I can think is how twisted the Reaping is.
Before I realized it the video was over, the crowd staring up at the stage in a trans, waiting for this years tributes to be announced. "Now, we will proceed to announce this years tributes. And as always, ladies first" she declared. The crowd fell silent as the Capitol escort waved her hand above a circular glass casing, filled to the top with names of civilians. Slowly reaching her perfectly manicured nails into the casing, quickly plucking out a name of this years unfortunate girl tribute. Many girls stood completely still as the escort readied herself to reveal the name. "Maysilee Donner" she said, the name echoing across the Square.
Their were sudden unknown gasps and cries from the crowd. "Maysilee Donner, c'mon up" she gestured into the crowd. I watched as a young girl about my age slowly made her way up the stage. Her hands were tucked behind her back, her long brown curls bouncing against her shoulders. She now stood on the stage facing the crowd, a tear slowly making its way down her cheek. "Very well! Now for the boys." The escort yelped excitedly. I completely froze as she made her way to a second casing, quickly plucking a name from the glass.
The blood drained from my face as she announced my name.