Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Hunger Games
I brace myself; fists balled and face concrete, shallow breaths escaping my lips when I remember to breath. Charity Charles moves over to the open glass dome and dips her hand in fingers reaching round to find a name, my name. A small smile rests on her lime painted lips and her almond eyes close slightly as she pulls out my name. “Pearl Stone”
She calls out and there is a gasp. That’s not my name. I shake my head slightly mouth ajar and watch a small girl with blonde pigtails walk up the isle created for her by our bodies. She must be Pearl. But how? She looks far younger than 12. Her little hands shaking and her knees only just poking out from her red dress her head is bowed but little wet splodges on the floor tell me she’s crying. How? How is that possible this was my time, my time to fight like my father like my brothers. And sure the draw is always supposed to be random but my family’s names have been drawn from that pot two years running. The little girl; Pearl is almost at the stage now. My parents are looking at me my mother’s pinched face is stern her eyes bulging out her sockets like she’s trying to tell me something. My father, holding her hand he seems to be willing me on too “Go” he mouths and I realise. I can volunteer myself that’s what they want me to do. I look to my brothers Shard nodding Ruben looks remorseful. He saw far more than any of us in that game which is all the more reason to go. I can’t let this little girl die in the games. “Stop!”
I call and people do Charity Charles raises a mint eyebrow in my direction and for the first time I realise even her skin as a pale apple green. “I volunteer”
I shout stepping forward slightly I give a quick smile to Pearl whose relief is all too obvious. Charity Charles laughs a tinkering laugh like little hiccups escaping her throat. Everything about her is pixie like. Charity Charles looks to each camera a look of surprise and amusement on her face “Well of course you do!”
She says and I nod walking up to the stage all eyes and cameras are now on me “Volunteers usually come up after we’ve chosen a boy but you’re just like the rest of your family. You’re all eager little fighters!”
She squeals in delight and once again the town is full of her patronising laughter. I’ll show her little fighter. I walk up to the stage passing Pearl who thanks me under her breath; I keep my face set in stone.
The boy chosen is named Mike. I’ve seen him around before, lives on the edge of the market his dad runs the mines. He must be 18 but he looks a lot older. Short cropped hair, tanned skin and a boxy frame he’s around twice my size. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t kill him if the time should arise. Which most likely it will. I don’t look at him too much but I feel his eyes on me; beady and cold.
I watch all the faces, the other tributes. Some look strong, proud, others solemn, weak. I memories each face. District 2 a boy with bushy hair and deep brown eyes, a girl one of the elder tributes with mousy hair peering out from her long lashes a cocky smile on her full lips. District 3 the boy tall and muscular jet black hair and gritted teeth, and the girl black eyes and hair hanging limply around her skinny frame there’s something off about her. District 4 a boy with messy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes the girl with short platinum hair she looks around my age. District 5 a boy that can’t be more than 13 dark hair and pale skin his limbs are sticklike and everything about him looks fragile then the girl with ebony hair and electric eyes staring past the camera. District 6 the boy with a crooked nose and sticky out ears brown hair sticking up at awkward angles. The girl is very young she looks removed her hazel eyes are vacant, sad. District 7 the boy is pretty much nondescript reddish hair and plane features. The girl looks tiny freckled face and curly red hair untamed and fiery she looks scared and so she should be. District 8 a boy with raven hair and vampire skin his almond eyes full of unreadable emotions the girl could have easily have been his sister with the same ebony hair and icy skin only her eyes are a deep cobalt blue and I feel an itch on the back of my neck as if she’s looking directly at me. District 9 two blonde tributes both similar in looks, messy hair dead eyes. District 10 the boy with short brown hair and the beginnings of a moustache sprouting above his lip. The girl a plane but pretty girl with wavy auburn hair falling in fiery locks. District 11 two small straggler tributes with dark rimmed eyes and light brown hair, almost grey. Finally District 12 the boy is short with big glassy hazel eyes, his lip quivers slightly and his chocolate hair falls in curls across his face the girl is similar looking she too has big brown eyes and curly hair only she is tall and strong staring directly at the camera. None of them are serious competition for me.
I wonder what they think of me; standing strong with a line of champions behind me do they know their fate? Do they think they have a chance against me? Do they? All these questions plague my mind as we’re taken over to the train station possibly to leave District 1 forever.
She calls out and there is a gasp. That’s not my name. I shake my head slightly mouth ajar and watch a small girl with blonde pigtails walk up the isle created for her by our bodies. She must be Pearl. But how? She looks far younger than 12. Her little hands shaking and her knees only just poking out from her red dress her head is bowed but little wet splodges on the floor tell me she’s crying. How? How is that possible this was my time, my time to fight like my father like my brothers. And sure the draw is always supposed to be random but my family’s names have been drawn from that pot two years running. The little girl; Pearl is almost at the stage now. My parents are looking at me my mother’s pinched face is stern her eyes bulging out her sockets like she’s trying to tell me something. My father, holding her hand he seems to be willing me on too “Go” he mouths and I realise. I can volunteer myself that’s what they want me to do. I look to my brothers Shard nodding Ruben looks remorseful. He saw far more than any of us in that game which is all the more reason to go. I can’t let this little girl die in the games. “Stop!”
I call and people do Charity Charles raises a mint eyebrow in my direction and for the first time I realise even her skin as a pale apple green. “I volunteer”
I shout stepping forward slightly I give a quick smile to Pearl whose relief is all too obvious. Charity Charles laughs a tinkering laugh like little hiccups escaping her throat. Everything about her is pixie like. Charity Charles looks to each camera a look of surprise and amusement on her face “Well of course you do!”
She says and I nod walking up to the stage all eyes and cameras are now on me “Volunteers usually come up after we’ve chosen a boy but you’re just like the rest of your family. You’re all eager little fighters!”
She squeals in delight and once again the town is full of her patronising laughter. I’ll show her little fighter. I walk up to the stage passing Pearl who thanks me under her breath; I keep my face set in stone.
The boy chosen is named Mike. I’ve seen him around before, lives on the edge of the market his dad runs the mines. He must be 18 but he looks a lot older. Short cropped hair, tanned skin and a boxy frame he’s around twice my size. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t kill him if the time should arise. Which most likely it will. I don’t look at him too much but I feel his eyes on me; beady and cold.
I watch all the faces, the other tributes. Some look strong, proud, others solemn, weak. I memories each face. District 2 a boy with bushy hair and deep brown eyes, a girl one of the elder tributes with mousy hair peering out from her long lashes a cocky smile on her full lips. District 3 the boy tall and muscular jet black hair and gritted teeth, and the girl black eyes and hair hanging limply around her skinny frame there’s something off about her. District 4 a boy with messy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes the girl with short platinum hair she looks around my age. District 5 a boy that can’t be more than 13 dark hair and pale skin his limbs are sticklike and everything about him looks fragile then the girl with ebony hair and electric eyes staring past the camera. District 6 the boy with a crooked nose and sticky out ears brown hair sticking up at awkward angles. The girl is very young she looks removed her hazel eyes are vacant, sad. District 7 the boy is pretty much nondescript reddish hair and plane features. The girl looks tiny freckled face and curly red hair untamed and fiery she looks scared and so she should be. District 8 a boy with raven hair and vampire skin his almond eyes full of unreadable emotions the girl could have easily have been his sister with the same ebony hair and icy skin only her eyes are a deep cobalt blue and I feel an itch on the back of my neck as if she’s looking directly at me. District 9 two blonde tributes both similar in looks, messy hair dead eyes. District 10 the boy with short brown hair and the beginnings of a moustache sprouting above his lip. The girl a plane but pretty girl with wavy auburn hair falling in fiery locks. District 11 two small straggler tributes with dark rimmed eyes and light brown hair, almost grey. Finally District 12 the boy is short with big glassy hazel eyes, his lip quivers slightly and his chocolate hair falls in curls across his face the girl is similar looking she too has big brown eyes and curly hair only she is tall and strong staring directly at the camera. None of them are serious competition for me.
I wonder what they think of me; standing strong with a line of champions behind me do they know their fate? Do they think they have a chance against me? Do they? All these questions plague my mind as we’re taken over to the train station possibly to leave District 1 forever.
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