Find the Sea- The Story of The 62nd Annual Hunger Games
You can read this if you haven't read the books, I will explain pretty much everything.
This story is based on The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I didn't make up the concept or anything, just that characters. :)
Shoutout to anyone who made a character! Thanks a bunch, you guys rock! ♥
I woke up around 5 am. Couldn't get back to sleep. Usually I can't. Swimming is the only thing that really helps. But I can't exactly go for a dip at midnight. Only in my dreams.
I live in District 4. Our industry is fishing, which means we're right on the southern coast of Panem, where the conditions are good and it's warm all year round. In some districts, ones we've learned about in school, it's cold for half the year. White, fluffy stuff falls from the sky, called snow. People freeze, starving. We have it easier here. Nobody starves at least. And the Peacekeepers aren't so harsh, killing us on the spot for having a little extra food.
Not to say we have it easy. Easier sure isn't easy. We get lots of fish. LOTS of fish.
Like... lots of fish.
We're fishing, so we basically get all the leftovers. Which would be a good thing, but... there is a point where fish gets disgusting. You get a little tired of having fish every day. More than once.
So when I woke up this morning, I didn't really think I'd get back to sleep. Especially on Reaping day.
Every year, the Capitol throws 24 tributes -12 boys and 12 girls- from the districts into an arena. And makes them kill each other. Pleasant, no? Basically, the only way out is to kill everyone else- or to get shipped out in a coffin.
In some of the other, starving districts, you can sign up for these things where you get food in return for extra chances to be picked to go into the arena- or reaped. In 4 we seldom take these "tesserae." We don't need them, thankfully.
That day was reaping day. By that night, I could be in the Capitol, preparing to kill other kids- kids my age, kids younger than me, kids in the exact same position I'm in. I couldn't imagine it.
I could easily picture our district's representative from the Capitol- an awful man named Felix Mallet- picking my name out of the glass ball. Out of thousands of other slips of paper. I could see it in my mind's eye. I could hear him saying, "Congratulations to Ione Andorra!' and feel the cold stares, feel my father's sad eyes pushing me forward. It wasn't the kind of dream I liked to have.
So I hadn't slept well. My father had. He didn't care about me. No, not at all. He was wasted away on years and years of mourning my mother's death. She drowned when I was little. Got trapped under a huge boat when she was swimming. I hardly remember her. But she's all my dad can think about. I had no siblings. Nobody else to love. And nobody loved me. So I could be a cold little girl with a heart of stone all by myself. At least if I went to the Capitol I could leave this place where nobody likes me.
I put on a blue skirt and a white top, with nicer shoes that my usual sandals, and fasten my gold locket- the last possession of my mother's- around my neck. I put a sun hat on my head- the sun rises earlier than you'd think- and head out the door of our little cottage.
Usually, the main square of District Four is a bustling marketplace, shopkeepers selling everything from fish guts to bracelets to oddly shaped pebbles. I personally like the scarf stand the best, because of the vibrant, bright colors.
But it's Reaping Day. Every single stand and shop is closed, and the square is so silent you can almost hear the waves crashing from a mile away. The Reaping area was set up last night, so there is no work to be done, just an ominous stage and the Capitol's banners hanging over the district. One more reminder of the fact that the Capitol has control over ever person, place, and thing in Panem.
I walk past the marketplace quickly. No need to focus on what lies ahead. I'm headed for the beach, anyway. if these are my last few hours in District Four, it's the only place I'd want to spend them.
It's a quick walk. Only a few blocks. When I arrive, I kick off my shoes. The feeling of sand in between my toes is more familiar that the Treaty of Treason- and that's saying something. We have to memorize it every year in school. "In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public 'Reaping'." But the salty smell and the loud crashes of the sea overpowers that. And the Capitol can't take that away.