FicWad

In a dark vision of the near future, twelve boys and twelve girls are forced to apear in a live tv show called the Hunger Games. There is only one rule: kill or be killed.




I am one lucky enough to not have to work. My family’s wealth is greater than even the mayor of the ‘town’. The town being little more than a few shops selling wheat or roots, a butcher and a baker. A drunk named Lionel who lies on the liquor shop’s steps being kicked at by our peacekeepers. It’s a wonder how anyone can be rich here, though we are known to be better off than any other district most live in poverty, in huts, in the stinking sewage that leeks out of the rotting and rusting pipes. We are fighters though, as you have to be in this world for the odds to really be in your favour. As they always have been in our family.

My father was the first a tall man fine golden hair cropped close to his angular face. He has mean eyes the same eyes as the rest of us. My brothers and me. He trained us after winning I think he always knew our fate. Or at least some of it. Now I’m strong, fast but I still have that elegance we’re renowned for here. I guess when your job is to polish diamonds you have to have that certain sparkle. But then that really leads me to where I started because I don’t have to work, never have. And it’s all thanks to the hunger games. My father was a champion in the 23rd hunger games then my brother Shard followed then Ruben and me. Or at least I will soon. Very soon. “Alice when I get in there you best be ready!”
My mother calls and I sigh back into the now lukewarm bath water. I know very well what’s coming today; The Reaping. My mother bangs on the door harshly and I imagine her pinched nose and narrowing eyes, eyebrows folded to create a crease in her weathered skin. Away from her face though will be fountains of golden curling hair and the dress my father brought back from his time in the capitol. I look over at my dress all blue and shimmering delicate lace and polished brass buttons I mentally prepare myself to put it on. Prepare myself for the day for The Reaping.

No other girl in the village needs to worry today. About the capitol about the games. I shouldn’t worry either; this after all is what I’ve been brought up to do. I was born to fight to kill. My father calls me Panther for my speed and strength out weighing even some of the fittest boys in the district. So I shouldn’t worry, worrying will get me nowhere. Nowhere but six feet under with a blade in my back and the whole of the capitol giving mock sympathy for my death. “Alice Primrose if you do now open this door in the next 5 seconds I swear on Panem I will call your father up here!”
With a groan I get out of the now cold bath grab a towel and yank open the door to reveal my exasperated mother “And you’re not even dressed yet. Are you trying to show us up? And look at your hair-oh god sit-sit down you’ll be on the TV in less than a hour”
She rushes me back into the bathroom tutting at the water I’ve spilled over the floors. I don’t know why she complains though most houses don’t even have running water. She brushes my long hair it falls strait unlike my mothers tumbling down my back. My mother hums while she works it’s an old tune that most have forgotten, too busy working to sing old silly songs but I join in.

“He promised to bring me a basket of posies
A garland of lilies, a gift of red roses
A little straw hat to set off the blue ribbons
That tie up my bonnie brown hair.”

We sing together reminded of times that never existed to us. Times long before the dark days long before Panem and the capitol. Most of the things listed don’t even exist anymore.

My mother helps me into my dress and I button it up with care admiring the shine on the brass. Not long now, not long at all. I look at my mother in hope of comfort but she has steeled her face, as I should now too. I defiantly don’t want to be seen crying on camera. I’m strong I don’t cry I kill.

It isn’t a long walk to the town square but it is carried out in complete silence. Everyone must attend The Reaping unless you’re after a fate even worse than the Hunger Games. I spot Tulip a few paces away from my family; leaving her house. The usual recluse looks around anxiously before dropping her gaze to the floor and moving along with the crowds of trudging feet. I see a few young children gripping onto older sibling’s hands. Poppy a girl of only six clings desperately to her brother’s balled hand his face is solid and his shoulders wide but he is still only 12.

We split into three groups; Adults and parents move along to the edges of the town and boys and girls up for the reading split to stand either side of the square. Youngest at the front eldest at the back. It seems ridicules how the capitol expects a 12-year-old child to fight against a burly man of 18. But that’s all part of the games, the brutality of children fighting to the death.

There are speeches from the victors; an old man called Kearny, a crippled woman Emerald once known for her elegance and beauty then my father and brothers. Then a woman with long green hair and matching eyes; Charity Charles. She’s from the capitol and though none of us are sure exactly what her job is every year she tinkers about laughing and smiling ushering about all the tributes.

And then it’s time, time for my name to be drawn from the bowl, time for me to leave everything I know behind. To go to the capitol and to kill.

A/N so first chapter up! I hope you like how I'm writing your character Alice! I should be updating soon I've started on the second chapter If you've auditioned your character will be introduced in the next chapter and then actualy enter a few after that! Please review if you don't I can't improve also my grammar is really bad and I I get a lot of peopel tell me this and I have no problem with that cause I know it needs improving but if you are gonna comment on it could you give me a example so I can see where and stuff? dehe