The Hanging Tree (The Hunger Games Short Story)

The Hanging Tree

I trudged my way through the woods, the thick rain pounding on the ground forming puddles. Dad and Rye were walking on either side of me, all of us unprepared for the event that was about to unfold.
We made it to the clearing, still walking slowly as if everything was in slow motion. The Peacekeepers stood there, blocking the tree from view. We approached them, dreading the sight of what was behind them, but knowing what was going to be done had to be done. They slowly moved away without even looking at us, exposing a path.
The sight at the end of the path caused my heart to stop. I froze in place, forgetting everyone and everything at once. My eyes focused on the figure hanging from the tree. Neck wrapped in rope, hanging lifeless. I wasn't close enough to see the silhouette through the rain, but I didn't need to. I knew who it was. Everybody in Panem knew who it was.
My dad was the first one to move. He took one, almost daring, step towards the figure and continued on slowly. As if he was trying not to scare the person away. Then Rye grabbed my hand, and pulled me along after my father.
I didn't want to go, I didn't want to face what I knew I was going to.
But I had to.
Every step was excruciatingly long and with every step, my heart sank lower in my chest. Every step brought me closer to the silhouette, closer to exposing the features of the persons face. Closer to coming to reality and telling myself they were dead.
Then her face came into view and I held back a sob. My father had halted for a minute, before continuing on.
The Peacekeepers watched with careful eyes, as if she might just jump back to life. Almost as if they couldn't believe she was dead either.
When my dad reached the tree he stopped and looked back at us. Rye walked faster, pulling me along. My eyes never left hers, not once. They searched the empty, lifeless eyes hoping they would come back and fill with such determination it would make everybody feel stupid for thinking she died in the first place.
But they didn't.
Rye let go of my hand and joined my father by the tree. I was now standing directly in front of the woman. Still looking up into her once beautiful eyes.
Dad looked at me and gave me a slight nod, all I needed to know that it was time. Sucking in a deal breath, I began singing, singing the song that strung her there in the first place.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree.
Where they strung up a man,
they say he murdered three.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be.
If we met at midnight,
In the hanging tree.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree.
Where the dead man called out,
For his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be.
If we met at midnight,
In the hanging tree.

As I sang my dad and brother cut the rope holding the woman to the tree, letting her fall into my fathers arms. I couldn't tell wether he was crying or if it was just the rain. I couldn't tell the same for myself. I continued singing, my brother joining me by my side, clutching onto my hand again. The Peacekeepers had gathered, forming a semi circle around my family and I. Not allowing us to leave. My father had joined us too, and now that I was closer, I could see it was indeed tears.
I had paused my singing. Talking a look at all of the Peacekeepers. My anger rising.
When I started singing, I shouted as loud as I could muster. Looking at each of the Peacekeepers directly, letting them take the blame.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree.
Wear a necklace of hope,
Side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be.
If we met at midnight,
In the hanging tree.

The rain poured harder, causing the smallest smile I could produce onto my face. I knew what was going to happen. I was ready, for what was going to happen.
When I sang the next lines, it wasn't just my voice.
It was my brothers.
It was my fathers.
It was all of district twelve.
All twenty-five thousand of us, singing together.
All twenty-five thousand of us and whoever was watching, grieving the death of my mother.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree.
Where they strung up a man,
They say he murdered three.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be.
If we met at midnight,
In the hanging tree.

People started appearing from out of the trees, hundreds of them. The Peacekeepers tried, but they didn't stand a chance. Soon they were swarmed by the people who were mad, mad that the Capitol didn't accept it the first time they had lost. Mad that they had began killing innocent people all over again, when their children were taught in school how terrible such a thing was and how it would never occur again. Mad that they brought the song to life, that they had picked a tree in the meadow and nailed a sign to it. Mad that they had threatened my mother, mad that they had told her they would kill her family. Mad that they dragged her out to the meadow that she grew up in, the meadow she watched her children grow up in. Mad that they put a gun to her head and led her to the tree, although the she didn't go without a fight. They were mad, mad that the Capitol had hung The Mockingjay on live television for all of Panem to see. For all of her family to see.

Not long after we were all singing as one, weaving our way through the trees and out to where we knew the Capitol was waiting.
Tears streamed down my face and my hand was still clasped in Rye's. Old friends had joined behind us, friends of my mothers. Gale stood beside Rye, his own son holding his hand.
We broke out of the trees, still singing our song.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree,
Where the dead man called out,
For his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be.
If we met at midnight,
In the hanging tree.

The singing died down as we left the trees behind and looked at what was before us. Thousands more people, all standing in the rain. I could see the Capitol hovercrafts above, waiting for the perfect time to drop the bombs.
But they didn't.
We all stood waiting in the rain, staring at each other with tears.

That's when I heard it, the melody and the thousands that followed. The soft whistle that was associated with my mother, with The Mockingjay.
I smiled as the people in front of me whistled back, as the mockingjays whistled back. Almost like they were saying goodbye too.
Then there was a loud sound. So loud it brought me to my knees and caused screams. That's when I knew, it was over. They were bombing us.
But when I looked up, the hovercraft wasn't there. Only the metal parts that were falling to the ground.
Everybody else had noticed too, we didn't get bombed. They did.
I stood up and faced the crowd, my hand finding Rye's again.
My eyes found a camera, a camera with footage I knew was being fed to all of Panem right this minute.
So I did the one thing nobody had done in years.
I raised my left hand, put three fingers to my lips, and threw my hand into the air.
People cheered as they all did the same.
They cheered as they joined yet another game that was about to begin. But they were ready to win, ready to win another one of the Capitols stupid games. Part of me didn't want to fight another time, but the other part of me wanted to do this for my mother. She would do the same. I knew millions would die and I knew millions would live.
My whole life had turned out to be a game, just like my mothers. Repetitive. Even a little tedious, my mother used to say.
But there are much worse games to play.