The 73rd Hunger Games

This is a fun little fan fiction of The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. This short story takes place in the previous year's Hunger Games.

   It is the greatest honor to be reaped and partake in the Hunger Games. I have heard that statement my entire life especially when I attended my first reaping. If I am reaped and survive the Hunger Games, I would go on the Victory Tour and live an honorable life of luxury. However, this never appealed to me since I valued my life more than a great big stupid house. My brother, Cannon, trained to be Victor for as long as I could remember. By the time he was 18, he had more muscle than I had seen anybody with in the Games, and he wanted to be Victor in the 67th Hunger Games. Although we didn't need the extra food, he signed up for tessarae 93 times, so he would have over 100 chances at getting reaped. When he wasn't reaped, he volunteered as tribute. He scored a 12 in training. Despite his above average odds, a 12 year old girl from 10, with a 1 in training, threw a dagger through his head on his second day in the arena. My mother, father, little sister (Tiara), and I were on our sofa when we watched his televised death. We watched Cannon's murderer pulled her dagger from his head before she hid back in her tree. We heard the cannon fire signifying his death. We saw his body be air-lifted from the long sought after arena. Cannon came back home in a coffin the day after. I was 10 when we buried my brother. Despite his death, my parents urged Tiara and I to train for the honor of becoming Victor. Tiara trained as much as Cannon did, but I read and vowed never to become tribute. If I did become a tribute, I told myself, I would have a 23/24 chance of death no matter if I trained or not. Maybe I would be that survivor, but the odds for that are slim at best. If I would win the Games, no amount of training could block out the nightmare of killing other children. 

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As I stood in my line for the Reaping, Onxy walked up to me, and laid his hand on my shoulder, 

"We'll get through this day together. Just two more Reaping days for you and three more for me, and this horror is over," he whispered in my ear. He kissed my cheek and moved to the line of boys. Onxy was the only person who didn't tell me how honorable Cannon's death was and that I should be proud of his valiant effort. Truthfully, I wasn't proud of Cannon's effort because he left our family for a suicide mission. Onyx always understood that in me because he too was counter-cultural.

I met Onyx during the Victory Tour. My family had been sitting in the dead tribute area, right where the victor can see the family and think, "I killed your son on national TV," and the families could add salt to our fresh wounds. When my family was leaving the area, we were bombarded with words describing Cannon's bravery. Each bravary remark dug a razor deeper and deeper into my wrists until Onyx said to me from behind,

"I'm am so sorry for the loss of your brother. I wish he didn't die such a meaningless death".  I turned to him and said,"Thank you", and meant it. He walked me back to my house, where he let me have a shoulder to cry on. I found him again at the library. We would read and discuss the meanings of books. Onyx became my only best friend, and it wasn't until last year after Cobalt took his place in the Reaping that we became a couple. Life is too delicate to waste. 

Stading on the stage was Beige Radke, the tribute escort. To his side were previous victors called mentors, Cashmere and Gloss, along with a few older mentors and middle-aged mentors. Beige gave his speech where he explained the purpose of the Games and how much of an honor it is to be chosen as tribute, and become victor (for the prize, of course). Go out and kill at most 23 children, then come home to a big fancy house and riches! If you survive the Games, you get to travel the Districts and face the families of the children you slaughtered! When you get back home, you can rest until the new Reaping where you can be a mentor and watch at least one of the children you trained die! Hopefully you will be this lucky. 

Beige closed his speech with the usual, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor! Ladies first!" He placed his hand in the glass jar which held hundreds of slips of papers; each with the name of one unlucky person. I stiffed as I tried to keep my cool as Beige mixed his hand around the bowl. Teeth were clenching. Please. Not me. Not me. Not me. In one ear, I heard Beige yell, 

"Harp Amiglitz" That's my name! No! No! Something must be mistaken! I stood in my line, too numb to move. 

"Harp, please have the honor of joining me on stage!" My body began to inch its way onto the stage where I stood next to Beige. My pale skin turning the color of the whitest pearl. I fiddled with my white silk gloves as Beige asked for any volunteers. Please! Somebody die for me like you did for Onyx. I can't do this. No female volunteers dared to die for me. Beige called the boy tribute, Patent Hubbermyhrr, but 17 year old Bronze Thornstone volunteered as tribute. Why was I going to the Hunger Games! Hadn't enough damage been done to my family! Peacekeepers ushered Bronze and me into the town hall, where we each got a room to have an hour to say good-byes to loved ones. First in my room was Onyx who ran in. 

"This is no place for my beautiful Harp!" I got up and ran into his arms and cried.

"Onyx, I don't know what I'm going to do!" I managed to get through my hyperventilation. He embraced me and said, 

"Look at me. You're going to get out of this and you'll come back home to me. I promise you that when you get out of this, we are going to have a long life together," he tore off a strip of his Oxford shirt and tied the strip around my wrist. I knew he meant it to be my token, "And Harp, if you don't make it, I love you with all of my heart, we have had a hellava time together. " We walked over to the chair where I am supposed to sit during goodbyes. He held my tightly held me hand, trying so hard to protect me and afraid to let me go. We just sat there in the peaceful silence for a while. There was no good way to tell a person I love goodbye forever. There is no way to give words of comfort to the Onyx to help soften the blow of my inevitable bloody, gruesome, and meaningless death, which he'll watch from his sofa, unable to protect and comfort me. May the odds be ever in your favor. Odds willing, my death will be quick. Perhaps in the bloodbath, where there is less of a chance my death will be televised. 

As my parents walked in, Onxy kissed me softly on my cheek and whispered in ear, "Give 'em a good show." With that, he left as my parents entered. 

"Isn't this so exciting! Remember to team up with the other Careers and go from there. You are going to do wonderfully!" my mother said. 

"Harp, you should have been training for this. It would have helped you more, but we all know you are going to win! Fight like hell!" my father said. 

"Don't die on the second day, ok," Tiara said. I kissed my sister on the cheek,

"I'll try my best Tia," I turned to my parents, "I'll try my best. Dad, I get three days of training, so I'll be OK." 

As the Peacemakers started to usher me onto the Tribute Train, I turned to me family and yelled, "I love you!" I could hear them yell, "I love you too," as I boarded the train. 

I ignored Beige's directions, and went straight into my room. Everything in it was finer than anything in District 1, and District 1 is pretty wealthy. Holding my token tightly ,I sat on the bed and cried all my tears.  I took off my pink chiffon dress and white silk gloves, and put on the sweats I found in my cabin. I stayed in my cabin the entire time, unless to eat a meal. 

When we came to the Capitol, everything was different. People cheered as the train came closer. These were the people who enjoyed watching the Games. Onyx had always told me that it wasn't their fault for loving the Hunger Games. Watching children fight to the death was in the Capitol citizen's culture for as long as they can remember.

Beige and our mentors escorted Bronze and I into the Tribute building. We rode the elevator to our floor where Cashmere began to tell me my strategy. I can only assume that Gloss was telling Bronze the same thing. What did the other mentors do?

"Harp, so do you have any special skills?" she asked me. 

"No."

"Give me something to work with! Well, you aren't very big. You're pretty willow-y, so you mustn't be too strong, so any hand-to hand fighting will be suicide for you. In training, learn throwing knives, ninja stars, bow, edible plants, and camouflage. Oh, and try to make allies. You will die without any help. How about you team up with Bronze and join any of his allies. Do you know Bronze?" 

Trying to process all information thrown at me, I shook my head. 

"Girly, consider yourselves best friends if you plan to survive this thing."

"But, eventually I'll have to stab him in the back or he'll stab me in the back. I have no doubt he would he wouldn't hesitate to kill me to save his own skin. If I want to survive this, I would need to stay alone because I could never kill someone I was allied with." I could see a smile scream through her eyes.

"You're smart. You might just be able to out-smart everybody." I never thought of that. I might just be able to go home. 

The wait until the start of the Games went by before my eyes. I met my prep team and stylist, Vespa for the chariot ride and interview. I just let my prep team rip the hair from my legs, arms, and parts of my eye brows. I let them paint my face. Vespa dressed me in a very flashy gold dress with jewels everywhere. In my interview with the crimson Caesar, I said nothing until he started to talk about Cannon. That's when I said, 

"I am not Cannon, but I will try my best." Caesar, always the positive one, replied, 

"Wow. You are going to be a competitor." In training, I took to camouflage like a fish to water, and I picked up a few skills. I scored a reasonable 6 in training. Not too bad. 

The nightmare started when I was in my tube awaiting to be lifted to the Games. I stroked my token as I was lifted onto my plate. Give 'em a good show. I saw a dagger about 5 feet away from me. The game makers put that weapon there for me. I wonder if they recycle weapons. Was this the dagger that ended Cannon's life? That will be the dagger to save my life. At the start of the Games, I grabbed the dagger and fled into the brush. The Games were in a large field with small bushes on the outskirts. I'm small enough, that I could fit in the bushed to hide. Maybe the odds are in my favor. 

I flipped the dagger around in my hands. It looked nearly identical to the one that killed Cannon. The only thing that was missing was his blood. Soon, blood will be on it because I will have to kill children to go back home. Other children are trying to kill me. This is entertainment? I don't care about Onyx's theory right now. He isn't being hunted right now. I untied my token from my wrist and rubbed it against my face. I can still smell Onyx on it. The smell of home lulled me to sleep until I awoke to the sound of 8 cannon fire. The bloodbath was over and eight children laid dead around the cornucopia. It won't be until night when I see their faces in the night sky. Hopefully, Bronze is dead now, so I won't have to kill him later. I would receive a cold return home if I killed Bronze. How could I face his family everyday?

I heard a set footsteps coming nearer to my bush. I peeked through the branches to find one tribute boy. Looking around my bush, I could find no more people, so I readied my dagger. I threw it at the boy's neck, and the boy fell to the ground with the cannon fire. I quickly retrieved my dagger and hid back in my bush. The hover craft lifted the body out of the arena. Too numb with fear to care about my murder, I became vigilant for more kills. Before the end of the night, I killed the four tributes who passed my shrub. Final 12 on day one. I wonder how the game makers are taking it. Half the tributes dead in one day. 

I sat in my shrub and tried to relax. I had no food or water. As far as I knew, there were none in this field arena. 

Suddenly, hail began to rain down crushing my shrub. Wigging out, I grabbed my dagger and fled. In the corner of my eye, I could see the Career pack chasing me. A girl from 4 was leading the pack with a saber in one hand and a bow and arrows on her back. Sweat beads rolling down from my head, I looked around for something to use in the empty field. The hail crushed all the bushed. I grabbed my da

Author's Note

This is a fan fiction based on the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. I never write fan fiction since I feel it can drag out or ruin an author's original idea. I have thought a great deal about how I would act in the Hunger Games, and I always thought about the Careers. Surely, not all the Careers were vicious, and surely not all of the people from a Career District enjoyed the Hunger Games. With those thoughts, this fan fiction was born. I hope I did the beyond AMAZING series by Suzanne Collins justice.

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Yes, I did mean for it to stop suddenly in the end. No, it is not a type-o. It stopped suddenly because the narrator was killed in the Hunger Games. She probably would have won by outsmarting the other tributes, if the game makers didn't destroy the bushes. Since I was using a first person narration, it would seem like I couldn't harm her. Stylistically, this is the only option for killing the narrator like in the An Imperial Affliction by Peter Van Houten, which stops mid sentence to show how delicate life is; one minute you are alive and the next, you are gone. I could have created a death scene and ended it off, but I feel as if it would draw out the death and detract from the story line and message.

Reviews

[gloomysundays]

Wow, this is fantastic. I really enjoyed the characters and how everything unraveled. The ending was brilliant and I'm very thrilled that a writing style like Van Houten's is getting out there. I really enjoyed reading about your character.
I do have one small complaint. You might want to revise the text format because the font type and size don't match throughout the entire story. There are some parts in a different style and others in different sizes. It's very common on this website, though, so don't let it get you down!
Keep writing! You've done a fantastic job.