Haymitch Abernathy- the 50th Hunger Games

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*i didn't really refer to the trilogy (only for information about the 50th hunger games) while writing(nor have i read any other person's version of this) so that it would be as original as possible!! 

*sorry for the random names that appear and if i had any of the information wrong...please drop me a comment to correct if any :)

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The rooster's crowing reaches my ears. I grumble and roll onto the floor. Instead of hitting the hard wooden floor, however, my shoulders touch a soft fabric and I open my eyes.

There is a thin fur rug beside my bed, and the whole room looks neat and tidy, and it even smells good. 

Then it hits me. It's reaping day. My family does this every year. Cleans the house. No one knows why, however.

I sit up and yawn. My brother and mother have already left the room.

After I wash my face with the bucket of water my mother left in the kitchen, I go to the living room and find that both of them are intently watching the capitol installed screen on the wall. It comes alive mostly only from the reaping days to the end of the hunger games every year.

It doesn't really take up space since the whole chunk of glass is on the wall. There are somehow images and videos on it when the Capitol decides to show us something, so I don't really know how this works.

We've actually chipped of some glass before to use for cutting and other stuff. Turn out this free television isn't so bad after all.

President Snow is on the television and is speaking endlessly about the origins of the hunger games and the dark days. 

Another thing I forgot. Today is the reaping for the second quarter quell. There's a special requirement for the tributes for every quarter quell.

On the wooden table, there are plates each with a slice of bakery bread and a strawberry. These are considered a delicacy for my family, keeping in mind that we barely have anything but mint tea to drink almost every day, with some sweet potato gruel and a pinch of rice morsels every other day. 

"Thank you, mother," I say. She gives me a nod and goes back to the screen. I take a seat and pick up the bread as I carefully watch the television. I apparently came at the right time.

President Snow is now reading the Quarter Quell card. There's a small boy dressed in white holding a wooden box beside him.

President Snow clears his throat.

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

We keep silent to listen to this year's card.

"And now for our second quarter quell," The little boy opens the box and reveals rows of yellowed envelopes. The president picks up an envelope with a '50' on it, opens it and takes out the paper inside.

"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district is required to send twice as many tributes."

That means forty-seven tributes dead this year. The victor must be very skilled to win this year's games. Probably Two again.

My mother gets up. "It'll be fine," she says and ruffles my hair. She brings our empty dishes to the sink.

My mother isn't really bothered with the games. She still is scared that she may lose one of us, but now my brother is still ten and I'm already sixteen. There are only three more games left for me, and the chances of me getting picked are not too high. We are also lucky enough to have just enough food most of the time, so I only took tesserae thrice and so my name is in the reaping ball eight times. I have a friend who's name is inside thirty-seven times.

I go to our room to get changed. My reaping clothes laid out for me are a brown collar shirt and long, grey pants. These must have been my dad's.

My brother is also in presentable clothes, although he is not going to join the reaping.

We walk together to the justice building and I hug my mother and brother before I go into the square. The peacekeepers draw out a sample of my blood and I go into the barricaded area and stand among a crowd of sixteen-year-olds.

Our Mayor does the same old talk that he does every single year and passes the microphone to our district escort.

She finally starts to pick the tributes.

"As usual, ladies first!" She pipes and sways over to one of the reaping balls. 

She rotates her hand round and round inside the ball until she finally grabs one and picks it up. Unfolding the piece of paper, she calls out, "Violet Clarkeson!"

I don't really know her, but it would be pretty obvious who it is when you see everyone's head turning towards someone who's face is getting paler with every passing second.

She looks to be around seventeen, with a pretty tall and fit figure. She wears a long ponytail of blond locks and light green silk dress.

Of course, she has a silk dress. She's probably a merchant.

Her hands tremble as she walks up the stage. There's some screaming in the crowd.

Our district escort congratulates her and selects another card.

"Maysilee Donner!"

Another wave of heads turn as another girl around the age of sixteen looks up in shock.

There's some weeping in the crowd.

She seems familiar. I don't really know her that well though. She's another tall girl with blond hair and a small braid down the side of her head. 

She walks more confidently up the stage than the previous person.

Our district escort moves over to the boy's reaping bowl and I can't help but think that my brother would be called. Of course not, I tell myself, his name isn't even in the reaping ball, stupid.

A small boy called Bune Georgewell is called. I guess I don't know him either. 

I don't make many friends.

He's probably from the Seam; grey eyes, black ruffled hair. All too familiar. He's around thirteen years of age. I feel sorry that his life had to end so early. I can hear a woman who is most likely his mother, screaming and pleading for them to let him go.

The last victor we had from Twelve was Amelia Fertick, who won the twenty-fourth hunger games. Very slim chance any of them are going to survive.

There's one more name. I still have this tugging feeling that it's going to be my brother.

But when she finally reads the name out, I can be fully assured it's not him.

It's me.