This is going to be based off a dream I had, but I give all the credit to Suzanne Collins and her Hunger Games series, because that's where the dream came from. So I do not own the idea, but I own the characters and scenes I put into the idea. If that makes any sense at all... lol
Anyway, tell me if I should keep writing this or not. Thanks :D
Reagan set down his dirty cup and stared at the woman in front of him with icy blue eyes. His lips were carved into a permanent frown, and his hands were dirt stricken from all the work he put into the factories that plagued the United States.
The Jar sat inches away from his resting hand, and a crumpled piece of paper sat in his other hand. He looked agonizingly over at the woman seated across from him and she reached out for his hand.
"You can do this Reagan. You're strong and know many survival tactics. I have faith in you."
"I can't..." Reagan sat back in his chair while shoving the jar away from him in disgust. The woman rolled her eyes and snatched his paper from him.
"You don't have a choice," she snapped, shoving the paper into The Jar, which only had a small opening in the top of it. "I am your mother, and we need that money. Next year you will be nineteen and too old for it. Besides, you promised you would."
Reagan sighed and grasped his mother's hand tighter before standing up. "If I don't survive, I am personally blaming you."
Claire smiled down at the dirty jar in her hand. Many said that the government was conspiring against the states by hoarding all the money and allowing only certain people to gain access to it, but she knew better. The Depression that hit was because of the economical down turn, not because a conspiracy.
Giggles from behind Claire snapped her attention back to reality and she smiled teasingly at her friends. "Dare me?" she called, pulling out a slip of paper with her name scribbled on it. She was seventeen now, and old enough to join the government's game, but she knew she was only joking. She would never survive on The Island even with a partner's help.
"Drop it in!" someone in her crowd of friends yelled. The room went silent as the slip of paper fluttered to the bottom of the empty jar. Claire turned and studied the man behind her with puzzled green eyes. This man had just snatched the paper from her hands and dropped it into the jaws of the jar. This act, which was not her own, would ruin her life forever.
"Money, Miss. Money," is all the stranger said as he turned and walked from the scene. Claire stared at his receding form and felt dread wash over her. What was she to do now?