The Hanging Tree

The Hanging Tree - Chapter 1

So... This is a short story I wrote in English class. We where only given a month, so it isn't that great, but I thought I'd post it since all I do on here is read Joshifer and Everlark fan fictions. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

I open my eyes and look around. Have I been here all night? The numbness in my fingers and toes confirms that I have. Sunlight filters through the trees, dappling the forest floor. I roll over and my hand locks onto the freezing hilt of my knife. Concealed by a log, I can just make out a tuft of grey fur nearly obscured by the tall grass. A rabbit, maybe? It doesn't matter, as long as it's edible. I toss my knife, and it slices through the air with a sharp swish, impaling itself into the animals hide. I right myself and hurry over to the dead creature - a rabbit, as I had assumed. I pick it up by its hind legs and drop it into my game bag.

As I make my way home, I pass a gnarled old tree I've always called The Hanging Tree. It's branches are empty, but it's easy to imagine someone hanging there, a body swaying in the breeze. I shudder at the thought and move into a jog. By the time I've reached the edge of the forest, I'm out of breath. I watch the workers from a patch of blueberry bushes until they're looking away, then I run across the stretch of open land and into town.

The workers are here to set up a fence, supposedly marking the barrier for District 12. They say it will be electrified, but I'm not too worried. We only get electricity here in 12 for about an hour a day. That gives me plenty of time to hunt, and since the fence won't be monitored, I'll be able to slip through the wires easily.

I make my way towards the old coal warehouse, which is slowly being turned into a black market. Inside, a few people stand behind makeshift tables featuring nicknacks. As usual, I make my way to the corner of the warehouse. A tiny girl emerges from the shadows. I bend down to greet her. "Good morning, Sae!" She stares at me for a moment then toddles back to her mother, Amy, and hides herself in her skirts. I smile at her as she peeks out again, then stand up and face her mother.

"I got you some game. Took me all night, though." I tell her.

Amy smiles and takes my game bag. "What would you like for this?"

I eye the pot of stew in her hand. "A bowl of that, please. And..."

I trail off to examine her collection of nicknacks. A marble, an ancient piece of money, a cracked mirror that I catch my reflection in. Auburn hair, those grey Seam eyes.

I hold up a ball of yarn. "Can I get this?"

Amy nods briefly, busying herself with pouring my soup. I take it gratefully and hold the bowl up to my lips. It tastes a little off, heated and reheated one too many times, but it's filling. I finish it off quickly and leave the warehouse.

I walk through the Seam and towards my house reluctantly. Today is the day of the reaping, and preparations are being made all around me. A scrawny little girl scrubs her shoes on her porch. A woman lies out a small, ragged dress to dry in the sun. We have preparations to make at home, too, but I still linger at the door before going in. When I do, Cillian jumps up and runs over to hug me.

"You're back!"

I force a smile and kneel to finish buttoning his shirt. Cillian is only six, too young for the reaping.

"I was worried about you." My mother says from across the room.

"Sorry. The workers are scaring all the animals off. I had to go deeper than usual. But I got you this." I drop the ball of yarn into her lap and hurry into my room. I get dressed in a faded grey dress and pull my hair back into two braids. My mother frowns at the childish hairstyle but says nothing.

I slip on my shoes and step outside."Good luck!" Cillian calls.

I glare down at the road as I walk towards the town square. Good luck. Saying that won't help. It won't change the 18 paper slips in the glass reaping ball with my name on them. It won't put the odds in my favour.

When I reach the town square, I'm signed in and directed towards the other 17 year olds. Once there, I stop and look around. There are the usual cameras filming our reaping to be shown throughout the country of Panem. The screens set up around the square show throngs of pale-faced children talking in low voices. A makeshift stage is set up in front of the Justice building. On it are two chairs occupied by our Mayor and Distict Twelve's tribute escort, a podium, and two large glass balls filled with paper slips. I watch the screens until the clock strikes two and the Mayor steps up to the podium.

He tells the story of Panem, how our country rose from the remains of a place called North America. He lists the disasters that led to its destruction. Finally, he tells us of the Dark Days, when the districts rebelled against the Capitol. How District 13 was destroyed, and how the Treaty of Treason gave us the Hunger Games, a reminder that the Dark Days must never happen again, that the Capitol is always in control.

I close my eyes and shudder. I remember the Dark Days.

"Now!" Our escort, a Capitol woman in a ridiculous outfit, totters up to the podium. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" She sings. "Today I will be selecting District Twelve's male and female tributes, who will be competing in the Third annual Hunger Games!" She grins out at the crowd, waiting for the applause. When nothing happens, she sniffs loudly and continues. "Ladies first, I say!"

I watch as she reaches into the bowl slowly. Stirs the paper slips with one delicate finger. Plucks out a slip. Opens it.

And says my name.