The First Hunger Games

Chapter 2

Blye's POV:

As we walked out the back door of the Justice Building, I could hear screaming. Guns sounded. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. I turned around, going to run back and see what happened, but I bumped into a Peacekeeper. I tried to dodge him, but he was too quick and grabbed my arms, dragging me back towards Scorpii. As we rounded the corner, a large silver train stood waiting. I’ve seen trains before, just never like this. The ones I’ve seen are rusting and full of Peacekeepers.

We stepped on board (well, I was more pushed) and into a lavish compartment. Plush couches, dark wooden tables, trays and trays of food. Never in my fifteen years have I ever seen anything so rich. The Peacekeeper let go of me, getting off the train and locking the door behind him. As the lock clicked, the train lurched and sped off, leaving our family and district in the coal dust. I stood at the window, watching the miles of drab land speed past. My whole life, has disappeared into the horizon, melted into the flat earth around. Friends, family, the kid who sits in the lake every morning. Gone. Never to be seen again.

I turn and see Otto on one the couches. I walk over to him and sit, snuggling into his chest. He’s the only sense of familiarity I have left. Not even the images on the walls of the oceans can make me feel comfortable. 

I am about to shut my eyes when I hear the clicketty clack of Scorpii and his shoes dancing towards us. I hear Otto groan, and I sit up. "Care to watch the rest of the reaping’s?" Scorpii trilled in his ridiculous accent. Skipping over the top of the couch Otto and I are sitting on, Scorpii lands next to me, jolting me slightly. For the first time I see him properly, I only vaguely saw him on the stage and briefly when he told me it was time to go.

I look at the side of his face, wondering how (and why) someone would come be such a horrific colour. Maybe he ate too many oranges, just like in the story. My mother told us a story when we were little about a girl he ate too many oranges and slowly started to turn orange, I always thought it was just a story, until I met Scorpii. Pushing the thought out of my head I turn my attention to the wall, where the screen is. We tune in at the beginning of the District Five reaping, the escort about to select the name of the first tribute. "

Whim Littleton" the escort spoke through baby blue lips. A small boy walked towards the stage from the front of the masses. He looked about 9, with his small stature and large doe eyes. The broadcast was entirely silent, reminiscent of the district five square itself. No one, not a single person made a sound as the boy slowly walked up the stairs to the grotesque blue and pink woman (or was it a man, hard to tell with the Capitol people). The escort looked as if she (or he) had just wandered through a shop and stapled on themselves whatever they saw, with the only restriction that the objects had to be pink or blue. Seriously though, this person was hideous. I didn't blame the kid for taking his time going up those stairs, the escort was creepily smiling and staring at him from the top of the steps. He stood up on stage, he's legs visibly shaking. He looked as pale as a ghost, scared into oblivion. The escort trotted to the other bowl and plunged her (his) hand inside the bowl, a massive grin plastered on his (her) most-likely-plastic face. He (She) pranced back towards the microphone, a slip of paper between her (his) grotesquely pink finger. "Kastraf Sanier!" the escort sang out, hissing on each "s". A girl, much bigger than I (taller and wider) moved from the middle of the crowd, with long purposeful steps towards the stage. She stood on stage next to the escort, her gaze focused on the horizon and beyond. "I present to you the first tributes from District Five, Whim Littleton and Kastraf Sanier!” The transmission cut off to the next reaping, District Six.

I continued looking at the screen, not taking much in, just glancing at the faces of tributes, trying to decide who will be the one to ultimately cause my death. I factor in though, the fact that I haven't seen the tributes from One, Two or Three... They would most likely be the ones to watch, they come from districts richer than mine. I spare a moment of thought for those from the lower districts like Eleven and Twelve. I don't think they even have a chance, mind you though, I haven't seen them yet. Working in the fields and coal mines might actually give their tributes some sort of muscle.

Most of the tributes look the same, young (about 12-14) and thin, all looking as if they suffer from malnutrition (which is likely, because for the last six months or so our food supplies have depleted significantly and the quality of the food, even more so). But one of the tributes stick out to me, a boy, and eighteen years old (based on his position in the crowd), he doesn't look like he's worked a day in his life. He's from District Ten, and you can tell he's not from the working class. He's completely clean, his clothes laundered and pressed, and is very muscular. No family who looks after cows would have the time or energy to be able to work out as much as this guy has. The camera jumps to the stage, showing the Mayor with his jaw dropped which quickly developed into a huge smile. The boy didn't look phased, grinning as he made his way up to the stage.

The image cut from the boy back to the escort. Why would someone be so happy to be going off to fight to the death... Maybe he thinks he has a good chance of winning... I don't blame him, he looks like he could snap someone in half. Well at least I know to not get on his bad side...

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Hello :)

Longish chapters (if you're reading on mobile) but I don't know when I'll be able to post again... oh well