Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

1. Smalls

I stood by the window peering out at the sad sight that was district eight. It was an urban place, reeking of industrial fumes. The skies were dark, and not because of the weather, but because of the pollution. With all the factories chugging out towers of smog, it was no wonder everyone didn’t have some kind of lung disease.

I heard the light sleeping sounds start to fade and knew that my room-mates were starting to awaken. The orphanage I lived in was so crowded, it was normal for at least four small children to share a single room.

I turned when I heard my name called, “Smalls?” muttered Raf, my bunkmate. He squinted at me and then peered at the clock, “What are you doing up so early?”

I shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep well, I was nervous for today.”

Raf nodded, realizing that today was the reaping, “Oh yeah, that. Ughh.”

I looked at him then pointed at the other two sleeping forms across the room, “Say we woke them?” I whispered mischeviously.

Raf grinned and silently we crept to their beds and then in unison attacked them with our pillows.

“Gahh! What, what’s going on!” exclaimed Pho, his eyes wild.

“You two are so dead,” muttered Fin, glowering at us.

Raf and I laughed quietly; not wanting to wake our minders. It was indeed early, and they were most abusive when they hadn’t had a night of proper sleep. Mischief aside, we all proceeded to dress and then file quietly down the stairs to the lunchroom.

We got in line and took our single serving of water-downed soup and a stale roll, then we sat at our usual table. Everyone was silent as we ate. The tension in the air was thick; everyone’s mind was on the same thing. Death.

“You gonna’ eat that Smalls?” asked Pho, pointing to my roll. I shook my head and he made a dive for it.

“Pig,” snorted Fin, still irritable at having been woken up so early.

Pho just grinned back with a mouthful of bread, “You’re just mad you didn’t think about asking him first.”

I chuckled a little, enjoying the bickering. I’d never known my parents; I’d been left at “The Home” when I was just an infant. I’d been housed and raised here for twelve years, and today would be the first day my name would be in the bowl. Raf, now fourteen, had assured me I had nothing to worry about. Since district eight was one of the larger populated areas; the chances of me getting picked were very low.

Raf seemed to sense my worry now. He looked at me and elbowed me playfully, “What’s on your mind Smalls?”

I grinned a little, trying to relax, “The reaping, it’s just so…” I trailed off, not sure how to continue. I felt a hand pat my back and turned to Pho who had a look of concern on his features.

“I know what you mean,” muttered Pho.

“It’s gonna’ be ok Smalls, I mean, look at me, my name has been in there a bunch and I’m still here,” assured Fin. Though he was normally the cranky one of the group, I didn’t ever blame him; he had reason to be. He, unlike the rest of us, had been dropped off here at the whim of his parents. They hadn’t wanted him, instead deciding to leave him to fend for his own. He’d arrived here, already with twenty slips in the bowl. He was seventeen, about to turn eighteen, and he’d been through more than others could ever understand.

I nodded at him and continued to eat. Though many would assume I was unhappy with my life of work and hard labor, they would find themselves to be wrong. I enjoyed living at “The Home” with my bunkmates. They’d easily become the siblings I’d never had. They were my family.

As the bell chimed and we were all ushered out to the square I took deep breaths in order to calm myself. Though this would be my first year to be eligible for the games, I was still unnerved with the constant feeling of dread in my stomach. I’d had a bad feeling for days now.

We filed in and took our proper places with the kids our age. I merged into the crowd of twelve year old and took notice of everything around me. It was depressing really. We all looked very similar; thin, weak, covered with filth, we were the withered shells of what normal children should be.

The Mayor climbed up to the podium and soon enough the reaping began. A female was picked and then, as the district escort marched to the boy’s bowl, I felt my forehead begin to sweat profusely. My muscles clenched and I stopped breathing for an instant.

“And the boy tribute that will represent our district shall be,” she opened the slip she’d picked, “Mipe Smalls”

My heart skipped a beat, but somehow I found myself moving forward. It was like everything was in slow motion. I made it up to the stage on shaky legs and mumbled my name. The crowd clapped slowly; only doing so because the peacekeepers around them demanded the gesture. No one was happy about young picks going into the arena.

When I was ushered into an empty room of the justice building I waited expectantly for Pho, Raf, and Fin. The minutes passed quickly and they never showed up. When I finally worked up the courage to open up the door to my room and ask the guard who was watching over me where they were, he simply answered, “They didn’t have permission to visit. Orphans don’t get visits from other orphans.”

I struggled with the tears that wanted to spill from my eyes, but I nodded, “Oh… Ok.”

When the time was up, the peacekeepers escorted me to a waiting car outside the Justice Building. Through the long ride I sniffled and tried to make sure my district partner didn’t see me cry; it was too embarrassing.

Once I’d boarded the train I stared out the window at the slowly fading shapes of the buildings of District eight.

“Good bye…” I whispered, knowing for certain that I’d never return.