The 225th Hunger Games

The sun beamed through the curtains as President Snow awoke in his large, elegant, blood red bedroom. Today was the day he would be announcing the Quarter Quell. The Capitolites were up and excited - already Snow could see over his window the amount of Capitol citizens with their crazy dyed hair and their tattooed bodies and bright clothes. A smirk played on his lips. This wasn't just for the entertainment of the people outside; they were just weaklings who were raised enjoying the Games. It was most fun for him, the president of Panem, the one who secretly drank blood in the evenings when nobody was around. It tasted nice and reminded him of all the blood that had been spilled in the arena. And that was an oh so charming memory.

"Morning, honey," his wife said, entering his room with a tray with some breakfast on. "Good morning, darling," he replied, and Mrs Snow smiled. "Big day today. Announcing the Quarter Quell! Eat up, and we'll get you into a fine suit. Our personal seamstress has spent a long time on it and I do so hope you like it." Then she scurried towards his wardrobe, picking out a pair of shoes that she thought would go perfect with his shoes. President Snow sipped the soup on his tray - still nice and warm, just as good as the red liquid he drank in the evenings. His wife was still uncertain of what he drank that gave him such a nice rush, but she didn't question it.

"The seamstress is coming in," Mrs Snow said and the tongue-less seamstress walked in holding a midnight blue suit. It was fine indeed, and President Snow held it for a while, his brown eyes scanning the material. The Avox stood in front of him meekly, hands in front of her body and pressed together as if she was praying that he liked he suit. "Very fine indeed," he commented, suspiciously raising an eyebrow. "You are dismissed." The Avox walked out of the room. Mrs Snow eyed him cautiously. "Put that on now, and we'll get the hairdresser in to do you up before the reading of the card. Oh, so exciting!"

The hairdresser wanted to get things over and done with. She was a pretty young girl, with bright red hair falling downwards in spikes. The ends were spiky but the strands that led down to the spikes were smooth and straight. She wore complete red, and she hadn't painted her skin. Good. He hated the people in the Capitol who painted their skin swirly bright colours. This young lady was the perfect example of what Capitolites should try to look like. She combed through and washed his hair, then dried it with a large machine. "All done, President," she squeaked at the end, then rushed out of the room to get a glass of water and some shut-eye.

"We're almost ready," Mrs Snow said, walking into the room again without permission. "I do hope it's a good card! Or we'll have to wait another 25 years before we can get the next one!" Mrs Snow shuddered then buttoned up his suit and pecked him on the cheek, smoothing out his suit. "Good luck, sweetie." Then he was live in the Capitol square, in front of everyone. His wife sat in a balcony nearby, along with the Games interviewer. Things had changed. The audience roared, wild and alive with screams and yells as they went crazy with excitement. "Welcome, people of Panem!" he shouted at the top of his voice, and the screams doubled.

"Now it is time to read the card that explains the 225th Hunger Games, and a Quarter Quell. The sixth Quarter Quell, to be precise." The crowd went wild. A little girl dressed in a spotty dress walked over to him with a card labelled '225'. He looked at the card as the audience waited and waited, screaming and shouting.

"To remind the Districts that the rulers of Panem can do as they please, there will be 24 girls and 24 boys."

A gasp spread over the audience, in admiration of course. And then the lights faded and the square went dark as President Snow slowly walked back into his house.