A Very Puffy Death ~A Glimmer Story~

This is the Hunger Games in Glimmer's POV. I've always read the Hunger Games and thought, Well, if she dies by Tracker Jackers--and lots of them--then she would be puffy when she dies, right? So a it would be a very puffy death! So, yeah, I've had this title in my head for a while. Hope you like!
This story does not belong to anybody else. It is not the property of anyone but me, Makenzie Soleil Hampton, and it is not owned by any business, website, individual, or group other than I.

Chapter 1

Time to Get The Ball Reapin'

I was just sitting in my room, awaiting this day. Oh, this wonderful day! This is a day that everyone except the rational tributes of districts One, Two, and Four--"Careers" as the other helpless districts addressed us--hated.

Today is Reaping Day. And it just so happened that I am the girl's volunteer this year.

I happily push my feet up and off my bed. If you've ever heard about the Hunger Games, you would know, you would know that they are nothing to be happy about. Unless you're Glimmer Rubella McPhillips. Yes, that's my name. Don't wear it out.

I'm going to tell you about the Hunger Games, assuming that you don't know about them. If you do, no harm done. Just listen and shut your mouth. Don't spoil it.

The Hunger Games are a form of "entertainment" created by the Capitol to show the districts, basically, who's boss. The Capitol was once surrounded by thirteen districts, each specializing in its own industry. This peace of fair well and all ended when the districts rebelled. That was called the Dark Days, back when we fought and lost, back when we lost Thirteen, back when the Hunger Games began. Thirteen, having all of those nuclear weapons, decided that when we fought, they could help us win. But when we lost, Thirteen was completely obliterated; blown to bits. And they show it--more like what's left of it--on T.V. sometimes, just to remind us. After Thirteen was gone, the Hunger Games were ignited. The Hunger Games are a fight to the death on live television. All twelve districts are forced to send two children--ages twelve to eighteen--to the retched place called the arena, where the battle begins. It can hold anything--a frozen wasteland to a barren desert. And, the thing that really gets to people is that there can only be one winner. Twenty-four tributes, one victor.

So why would I, sixteen-year-old Glimmer, want to fight with people (a lot of people) so she could stay alive? And probably die in the process? Because of what happens if you do win. There's not just prizes for you, but your whole district! Parcel day is twelve days long, after speeches and ceremonies and stuff. And you get to move into the Victor's Village, a small little town with twelve giant houses. They were three stories and everything. Plus you get tons of money. So much that you don't know what to do with it.

Most of the houses are filled with people, one of them being my sister. The last house in the District One Victor's Village is next to Cashmere and Gloss, two separate victors who are--suprisingly enough--brother and sister who won two different years. They might be my mentors this year. And I will make them proud.

I go to my closet and pull out a long green gown. This will bring out my eyes and make my shoulder-length wavy blonde hair make a lasting impression.

"Glimmer!" My younger sister, Annemarie, calls. "Are you ready yet?"

"No, of course not," I say with a smile. "What about you?"

"Take a look for yourself," she squeals,--a very happy tone in her voice--as she runs up the stairs of our two-story house. She turns in one swift motion and her thin body is enveloped by a light pink sundress. As I look at it more closely, I see that it was the one that I gave her on her thirteenth birthday, for her second Reaping. Which is today. Frankly, my sister does not like Reapings. She finds then unnecessary and evil, like most.

My other sister, GraceAnne, thinks more like me. She actually won the 71th Games. She wants me to go and win. So I will do what she asks.

I think that GraceAnne will be my mentor this year. Well, GraceAnne is already at the square nonetheless. If she is sitting in one of the two chairs provided for mentors, that will tell a small tale.

"Yes, Annemarie. You're ready. Now I am, too. Let's hit the road."

"Um, Glimmer? Wouldn't hitting the road just break our hand?" Annemarie asks with sarcasm (and lots of it) in her voice.

"Yes, of course, Annemarie. How silly of me," I say with a roll of my eyes. How she loves to joke. How I love to play along.

We step outside of the house and are greeted by a smiling Emma. Emma is sixteen, like me, and lives exactly three houses down. She lives in the more--how should I say it?--run down part of District One. Not bad, just....Not the best.

The three of us run to the square, and I tell the person how many of us there are and all that good stuff. Is there a census calling?

I drop Annemarie off in the thirteen-year-old section. Her eyes are large and round, and there might even be a tear or two.

"I'll see you again, right, Glimmer?" She asks me.

I put my hand on her shoulder and nod my head. "Yes. I'll win and all will be well in the world."

"Bye, Glimmer." She throws her arms around me and I hug her back.

"Bye, Annemarie!" I call as Emma and I wiggle our way through the crowd to the sixteen-year-old section.

Soon, after about ten minutes, the mayor is up there, getting ready to give his boring death speech. "Ladies and gentleman," he starts. This is when I tune out.

When that is over, our odd escort--named Velila--takes the mike. "Ladies first!" She calls as all escorts do. She pulls out a slip of paper and returns to the podium.

"Annemarie McPhillips!" Velila calls. Shock washes over the faces of many as my sister walks onto the stage. She looks terrified. I shrug. Eh. She knows that she's not going into the arena. But she also knows that I am.

"Hello, Ms. Annemarie," Velila says in her bell-like voice. "How are you today?"

"Not very good. I'm not feeling well," Annemarie says, her face falling in dismay.

"That won't get you any sponsors, and you know it! Cheer up, little pup!" The crowd stares in amazement as Velila jokes. And this is not a time for jokes.

"Time for the boys!" She pulls a name from the boys' ball and once again returns to the podium.

"Marvel O'Toole!" Velila says.

This Marvel kid--tall, brunette, overall, pretty hot--swaggers up to the stage, obviously making it clear that he is not taking any volunteers. He comes from the seventeen-year-old section.

"Any volunteers?" Velila asks as she motions to the two of them.

"I will!" I scream running up to the stage. And what do the people of District One see? Not a girl volunteering for her sister, as to not want her to die. But a girl running up to win.

Velila looks from me to Annemarie, and back at me again. "And what is your name?"

"Glimmer Rubella McPhillips, ma'am." I say and smile.

"Great to have you aboard, Glimmer."

No one even thinks of coming up to volunteer for Marvel.

After all that good stuff, we are supposed to be taken to say goodbye to our loved ones, in the permitted hour that we get. But how long will I get? I wonder. I least know mine will be cut short. Thanks to say that I'm being knocked out right now.

My last thought right there? Oh, yeah. That was true.

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