Just like to point out that these characters are my own, but the credit for the idea of the Hunger Games goes to Suzanne Collins.
I was running. Running away from something. A horror of some description. I reached the tree and stood in front of it. It shades my vision, just enough to rest my eyes from the sharp, golden glare of the Sun that stands high in the sky. I notice something from the corner of my eye. I turn cautiously and feel the cool, sharp blade of a dagger on my throat. I can feel a trickle of blood slowly creeping down my neck, and dropping to the floor. I peer down from the bottom of my eyes and see the engraving on the tortoiseshell handle. I know who this boy is. And as I turn, slightly wary, the boy stares at me with golden-flecked eyes conveying a deep passion. We look at each other and lean forward towards each other. The blade slips through my ribs, and then…
Light. An all-consuming light. Focusing slightly, I know I’m at home. The light is sliding through the curtains of the window. Cold sweat has coated my body in a sheen that was going to be hard to remove I blink, clearing my mind of all thoughts from that “dream”. I shake my head to rid myself of the remnants of the Hunger Games.
Damn. It’s the reaping today. I shiver involuntarily. I am part of the reaping for the first year. I wish someone would tell me what was going on with these “Quells”. No-one wants to discuss the Hunger Games this year. No-one ever does, but this time, everyone seems particularly on edge. I’ve no idea why. Yet, that is.
Let me explain about these Reapings. They basically are the deciders of who fights in the Hunger Games. People are split into their genders before being put with people of the same age. I will be at the front as I am twelve years old. The oldest, those people aged eighteen, get to stay at the back.
I know I can't survive this Reaping without clearing my mind. I have to get out. The only place that I can think of to do this is the sea. I love the smell of the salt floating in the air. That is my only way of escape.
I roll off my bed and creep towards the door. I turn around. No-one wakes up. Thank goodness, or else I would have to explain why I was going out now. My brother lies with a smirk on his face. Lucky person – he doesn’t need to part of the reaping now he’s nineteen. That’s probably why he’s happy. My mum sits at the table, head bowed onto the oak surface. She works too hard. She shouldn’t. I could help but she never allows me.
The door opens without a creak – amazingly – and I sneak outside. Our house is right on the sea front. It isn’t the best house in the world but I love where it is.
I walk down onto the beach. No boats pass on the sea because it is the Reaping today. It seems too quiet but is perfect for me. I walk across the sand up to the little caves at the edge.
My swimming tunic lies inside one of those coves on the beach. This is all I swim in because I can’t swim in any more clothing or any less. Anymore clothing and someone would notice me in my bright clothes, any less and someone would accuse me of stripping off. Either way, I would get whipped. Not good.
I slide into my little cave. As I am about to reach for my tunic, something kisses the bare skin of my leg. I turn but there is no-one. I look the other way and see a glint of gold. It reminds me of my dream but I can’t remember what.
Returning out of the cave, I scurry to the water's edge and slip into the cool, clear waters. I feel the bliss of the welcoming sea. I smell the subtle scent of sea salt. It’s great but as I run out of the water in order to get to the Reapings, something white appears in my field of vision.
It runs at me with a gun in its hand. I want to run but I'll get shot. So I wait there, shivering to death and looking at the carpet of sand. Then, after a few seconds, I look up. My teeth clench and my eyes close as I sigh in despair. It's a Peacekeeper. And then he drags me through all the streets to the stocks. I swear that he is going through a longer route in order to make me feel even worse.
