Hunger Games Fan-Written: Nayohmi Tsoo

Chapter 2: The Day Before

I perch myself up, and crawl out of bed. The bed creaks and squeaks, and bends and cracks. But honestly, I don't care. I drag my legs across the tile floor. Down the stairs I go, wondering what I will do today. I sit all alone. Alone in the morning light. To my left, a bird perches on the outside windowsill, staring straight at me, like it's trying to find a break in my eyes before it enters my soul and haunts it like a nightmare. My eyes squint back at it, forcing the bird to fly away. Pancakes sit in front of me just waiting to be eaten. To be devoured. Instead, I waste my time by glaring at the steam raising above it. I sink my teeth into the soft, fluffy, and bouncy pancake, as flavours burst into my mouth. Scrumptious. This is scrumptious. All I can think of, all I can feel, all I want to feel is this scrumptious pancake. All I can think of. All I can think of? I'm pretty sure I'm missing something. Today feels off. Aren't I forgetting something? What do I need to thi m about? Then I remember, today is the day before The Reaping. I stop biting into the pancake, and slam it on the plate. Then, I slam my wrists on the table, and let out an ear-piercing screech, almost like a hawk. I am scared, I have to admit, and I am no stranger to the feeling of being terrified. The weird thing is, I feel a bit gleeful. I mean, if I ever do manage to be chosen and no-one volunteers, which I doubt will happen, I wouldn't be mad, as I would be able to finally get away from here. Frightened of what the next day will hold, I have decided to distract myself of further misery. I'm not one to say that I am actually excited for what may happen the following day, even though it is thought that I should be since I am from District 1. You know, being a Career tribute and all.

So, I run towards the train station, hoping to figure out a distraction, an escape of these horrific feelings. Luckily, I always have a spot on my belt for a pen and paper, because if I didn't, who knows what I will do. My legs start to move faster than my body can handle. In order to stop myself from smashing into the brick pillar that may disintegrate me, I stretch out my hands, slightly grazing them. I pause, and think to myself wether I should stand or sit down. Of course, I choose to sit. My legs cross, my arms and hands use their muscles to grab the notepad and pen. Before I can start to write, I have to catch my breathe. The train station isn't far from my home, but it is far enough for me to find a need to breathe. After I manage to catch up my amount of breaths, my hands begin to make lines and curves of ink. I am sketching. I sketch and try to figure out the theme for the Capitol's new building. Since I live in District 1, we get the luxury to help decorate the Capitol. Since I have the 'eye for noticing colour patterns', I was chosen leader. I draw a few more sketches. I have not yet figured out the theme, so I want to show them when I get the chance. My breathing begins to spiral out of control again, but I manage to pace it down. My vision fades into a blur, and a black splotch begins to form in the top corner of my left eye. I am about to panic and throw a fit because of how stupid The Reaping is. As the tears start to flood my eyes, my entire surroundings turn 'round and 'round. At this point, I am screaming my lungs out. The next thing I notice, is that I am laying in my cold, creaky and damaged wooden bed, wide and awake for The Reaping. I must have passed out or something. I don't know.