Reply:Skylar-Fanfic/1st Annual Games
Sept 2, 2010 18:08:29 GMT -5
Post by clovegoodshot on Sept 2, 2010 18:08:29 GMT -5
[/b]My nation of Panem, I regret to say that in the next three weeks, we will host our first annual Reaping for the Hunger Games! Now let me explain. The Hunger Games is now an annual event, in which once a year, two children from each District will be randomly chosen and sent into an arena. There will be weapons provided and the children will kill each other until our Victor, the last one standing, is crowned. You can thank your little rebels for this, because they are the reason that your children will die, the reason for all of this. For your little rebellion, you will pay, by watching your own children die. Thank you, and have a good night."And that is all he says, before we are dismissed to wonder.(((((Skylar you inspired this for me)))))
~Payton Parrs
Everyone's mouth hangs open, like fools. Everyone's thoughts are flying through their heads, trying to understand, trying to understand. Why we are going to have to do this. Our children, us, the children.
I face Rosella. I might be killing her in three weeks. In three weeks, I might be brushing death, killing my best friend, eating raw meat, trying to survive, in an arena. In just three weeks from now, I might be dead.
The entire nation of Panem is in shock right now. All the shutters being close, doors being locked, people huddled with their families, crying, hoping that three weeks from now, their kid is still there, at the house, in their District. Some families will have to fear this for 7 more years, until their children are 18, or only a year or so left. But either way, every set of eyes in Panem is watching, listening as our President, a man that vowed to keep us safe, is talking,
1 Hour Later
We are all sitting there, still staring at the TV
2 Hours Later
We are now exchanging glances, but not talking
3 Hours Later
We talk about how it is going to be okay, that none of us are 12-18, but me. I am 14, and I have taken up 8 Tessera. I mention this and we all fall quiet.
4 Hours Later
We go back to glancing
5 Hours Later
We give into our emotions, and huddle together, and cry.
My tears represent me going into an arena, in just three weeks, in just awhile. For the next few days, I can't help but think,"This is the last time I will ever do this", every time, every time that I eat out, or cuddle with my little sister Sophie, or even just watch TV, which I now fear.
Reaping Day comes much to fast, and I know it will happen. I have taken more Tessera than any other girl in this District, and that is a known fact by all. All of the other families have probably reassured their daughters that it will be okay by saying,"It's okay, that Payton girl will die, not you, she has so much Tessera in. . . ." and etc. . . . .
I dress in a deep maroon dress that falls to the ground, resembling the color of blood. Exactly what I will be wearing in three weeks. I curl my hair, and put on some of my mothers lipstick, and I actually don't look half bad. But ya know, I need to look good for the cameras, which will be video-taping me in about a half-hour.
And exactly twenty-eight minutes later, I hear the words,"Payton Parrs". Yep. There it is. My name. Floating through all of Panem, on every screen, through every mind, just as the words,"Do I know her?", and,"She looks like a good one to sponsor!" or "Well she'll be dead at the Cornucopia!", the golden horn that we use at Thanksgiving. The Capitol is twisted in ways like that.
I don't even hesitate before prance up to the stage, and smile. I hope my happy girl-walking-to-death act works.
Three weeks later, my act is lost. No one liked it. So of course, I have no sponsors, no sponsors=no life. And when the gong rings out, signaling us to begin killing, all I can hope for is that one person buys it, just one sponsor to help. Because I will need it.
-In Loving Memory Of Payton Parrs, District 9 Tribute, Died Day 1, Cornucopia-
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