Whispers from the Woods: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter I: The Death Lottery

I wake up in a cold sweat, in my stack of hay and leaves which can apparently pass as a bed now. Ever since the second rebellion, it's been getting worse and worse: peacekeepers have been constantly taking our belongings, there have been many more executions, and there's just no point in living anymore to put it quite simply. The rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. That's just how it works, and people have learned not to complain. I'm almost drifting off, dreaming of a life without work, the Hunger Games, or anything for that matter, when my mother barges in. "Sequoia! It's reaping day! And it's nearly-" she checks her watch, "11!" I spring up almost instinctively. I can't deal with her yelling at me today. "Where's Ivy?" My sister, who's only ten, is one of the only things in the world I care about. "Outside picking flowers. Now, up Sequoia!" The flowers are going to be for the families whose children are reaped. We used to take a meal we could scrape together, but now we can't even feed ourselves, let alone another family. I still want to give food, because the eyes of those poor people seem so lost and vulnerable and I can't bear to watch them suffer, but my mother insists that it's flowers or nothing. They'd probably prefer nothing, but I argue otherwise. Last year, one of the families from our road (which is really just a path in between a series of two towering piles of rubble, but we call it a road anyway) had two of their children taken away. They were distraught! I could barely look at them, it made me so upset for them. I sat and seeped with them for hours, before they eventually sent me home with a basket of bread (the last they had) and the next morning I woke to the news that they had succumbed to starvation in the black of the night. Then I remember Ivy out there: "No! She could be killed!" It sounds ridiculous, but it happens. Even the plants' lives belong to the Capitol now, just like everyone else's.

I'm about to get up and find Iyy but she comes bursting through the door. "They almost caught me!"  she gasps in between breaths. My best guess is she'd climbed away from them. She's very good at climbing, and those District 2 peacekeepers would have no chance getting her down from a tree. I grab her and tell her never to do anything like that again because she could've easily been caught and killed. At least the make-do bouquet looks adequate.

We then have to get ready for the death lottery. I'm wearing the pale grey dress I wore last year – and the year before. I probably wore it even before that, although I don't remember as I try to forget these reapings as best I can. Ivy is sporting a slightly lighter dress, nearly white (which is spoiled by a few dirt stains but will have to do). Her dark, wavy hair flows down past her shoulders and, I must admit, I'm slightly jealous. My hair is an awkward length and a frizzy, ugly pale brown. "We've got to look our best if I get chosen," I joke. It doesn't feel like a joke though, and I probably shouldn't have said it because Ivy's face goes dark. She reaches out for a hug and I embrace her for a minute or so, until Mother tells us we must go or we will be late. If we don't turn up, we shall be "severely punished", says our head peacekeeper. He hasn't gotten to prove that point yet though; no one wants to clash with that brute over something so petty that doesn't even benefit them. If it was about food though, then it would be a very different story.
Ivy pulls away and her emerald green eyes are flooded with tears. With a rag pressed to her eyes, we set off for the Justice Building, which is mainly in ruins now. But the Capitol won't let a few loose stones interfere with their favourite annual sporting event – watching children murder each other.

The atmosphere is silent and sombre, like every year. I make my way over to the registration point and a stern-looking lady grabs my finger, pricks it with a little metal tube, and takes a sample of my blood. It hurts, but I'd rather deal with it than test my chances with her. Then I walk over the crowd of 15 year olds. At first I see the District 7 escort and mentor along with a handful of peacekeepers guarding them. Last year, one of the tributes decided she didn't want to go to the Hunger Games (I can hardly blame her) so viciously attacked our district escort, Saturn. It was hilarious to be honest, but obviously not everyone found it funny because peacekeepers shot her dead immediately (that bit wasn't so amusing)  and then reaped another girl. That time it was the sister of the boy tribute. The ones from down the road, I mean. The girl – her name was Amber – was killed by a career in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. The boy made it to the final 5, but was killed by mutts. Although quiet and reserved, Amber was actually really lovely: a few years ago her family used to have quite a lot of money (by district standards) so every Sunday, after their meal, she would sneak across to our house and slip a bag of leftovers through our door. But then her family lost everything, and the year after, two of their children too. And then their own lives.

The head peacekeeper goes through the story of Panem, then the first and second rebellions, and I honestly can't say I paid attention to a word of it. I've been told by the elders in 7 that there used to be a horrific video, but that was scratched after the 75th Games. The mayor used to do the chore of reciting the dull, long paragraph, but then President Coin decided she wanted full authority over the districts so all of the mayors and their families were brutally murdered. Mother told us she and her family tried to help the poor, mainly innocent group – this was 24 years ago – but they were found. By escaping through a window, my mother managed to survive. Unfortunately the others weren't so lucky.

Then Saturn takes the microphone and they play a different video on the sizeable screen.

"Citizens of Panem," Coin, whose face is now being broadcast to the whole district, begins. "As you all know, this year is the centenary of the Hunger Games." I could hear a pin drop, it's so quiet. "That means that this year marks 75 years since the end of the first rebellion, 25 since the second rebellion, and most importantly the 4th Quarter Quell. We haven't revealed what the Quarter Quell games will be though – and that is what I'm here to do now." She meticulously opens a pristine, crisp envelope. Then smiles. A cunning, flawless smile. "And the 4th Quarter Quell – the centenary of the end of the first rebellion – is..."

The whole crowd falls silent – even more so than before. No one could believe their ears.