The 55th Hunger Games

Part 1 - Chapter 1

        The wind whistles through the forest, dodging the trunks and brushing the silky willow leaves aside. The trees bend in the warmth, heralding its arrival, before it caresses my face. I breathe in deeply. Little songbirds hop around the branches, lending their voices to the wind's music.

        These songbirds are not Mockingjays, I note. These are simple wrens. But to me their voices are no less beautiful. More beautiful, perhaps, for the Capitol didn't have a hand in their creation. 

        The warm air comforts me as I take it within my lungs. Summer always has been my favourite season, even if the Reaping comes with it.

        I am familiar with pre-reaping anxiety by now. It began six years ago, when my brother's name was placed in the reaping bowl for the first time. This is his final Reaping. He is eighteen now. So far, his luck has held out. He has signed up for Tesserae twice during years which have been difficult for our family. The first time was when he was twelve, and the second when he was thirteen.

        Those two years had been cold and damp. Any wild food we could have gathered was scarce and the herbs we planted at home wouldn't grow. The grain and oil we received in exchange for his name being entered into the reaping bowl a few more times helped us out but did not improve our year much.

        Our supply of firewood was wet and damp and we had no money for more, because, of course, the trees in our plantations and forests are protected by the penalty or death. This has always seemed unfair to me. Our district's trade is lumber, yet firewood is as hard to come by as food.

        I'm not sure why, but my anxiety is heavier than the last couple of years. Maybe it's because my sister is up for the first time. Having every member in your family eligible for the Hunger Games is enough to put anyone on edge. And then there are the fourteen slips with my name on them.

        Yes, I too have had to sign up for Tesserae. I have had to twice like my brother. I would not let him sign up for more. We hoped to avoid it, but lately the winters have been getting colder and there was simply no avoiding it. My sister, Emmaline, only has her name entered once. Maybe I shouldn't be worried for her, but I am. I'm terrified for her, my brother, and myself. 

       But the Reaping is not until tomorrow, and there is no sense in worrying when I can do nothing to change the outcome. I turn away from the forest and walk home. 

        My day at school was uneventful. Besides lessons about our district's trade, we studied history today. Not true history, but history which has been given to us by the Capitol. The history they want remembered tells of the districts being at fault for the war. As the bell rang, we were reminded it was a public holiday tomorrow. As if anyone could forget.

        I am coming into the town square now. It is different from when I walked through it in the morning. Things are arriving in the square. Banners are already being hung by the Peace Keeper's. Enormous televisions are set up along adjacent streets so late comers who cannot fit into the main square can view what's going on on the main podium which is now being set up in front of the justice building. Camera crews have arrived from the Capitol with their heavy equipment, and seem to be trying to find the best positions to set up in tomorrow.

        I try not to look as I walk past. Not only are two children from our district sent to almost certain death each year, but we are forced to celebrate it as if it is some kind of festivity.

        I will never understand how people in the Capitol could be cruel to an extent that they enjoy watching children kill each other. What brutal people they must be! I certainly would not care to meet one of them in person. I wouldn't be talking to a human. I would be talking to a monster.