~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ RobotsWillCry

The view from the balcony is spectacular. Night in the Capitol always is. Id know. Ive been in Eleven, where the sun drops below the horizon in seconds, taking all the heat with it. Ive been in Eight, where the hovering smog turns the sunset a sickly orange colour and machinery chunters on through the night. Ive been in Two, where the mountains are so high that half of the district is swaddled in darkness even when the sun is up and where the wind whips the breath from you and the darkness is bitterly cold. None of it compares to the Capitol at night. In the Capitol, night is never dark or silent. Night is an endless parade of coloured lights, a catwalk of people in a dazzling array of clothes, music beating from the nearest club. Night in the Capitol is alive. And never more so than tonight. Tonight, everybody who is anybody is outside, laughing and mingling under the fairy lights. I know the mountains are there, looming on the horizon, but theyre invisible. Cameras swish over the esplanade, manned by men in shelled suits that look much more uncomfortable than my uniform, filming for the benefit of those too ill to leave the house. The screens are up and they play the reapings over and over again. Tiny little ant-like people point and grin, cheering when their favourites come up. There are no individual faces from this high. Tonight I rise above the noise. Thats all it is, just noise. Sound. Tonight I see the Capitol as the President sees it. How many jobs let you do that? There are two of us flanking the balcony, one at each end like gargoyles. Neither of us have done anything close to our twenty years of service, but they want youth on show. The cream of this years crop. Both of us received a Capitol Honors for Exceptional Service this year and this is the reward. My Honors came in Three. An explosion, of course; always is there. Some Capitol representatives were on inspection at one of the factories and the whole thing went up in flames. I got them out my suit is fireproof, its not as brave as it s ounds and managed to get half the workforce safe too. Not from the whip, later, but alive. Dead men dont work. This is work. I cant forget that. From here you can scan the crowd and spot the patterns, the shifts that might mean trouble. Scope the rooftops for snipers with one hand on my gun. Its merely precautionary, but you never know. But even though its work, its a reward of a sort, and my companion and I have our helmets off. Shes about my age but we werent in training together, which means one thing. Shes from Two. She looks it. Dark hair, very straight. Narrow face. Grey eyes. By Capitol standards, shes nothing special. She could do with a bit of collagen in the lips and cheeks. But Ive been to Two and by their standards, shes striking. She stands perfectly straight, surveying the crowd even though theres no sign of trouble. The excitement drifts up from below, loosening my tongue. The voice in my ear said five minutes not so long ago, and the people underneath are too far down to see that were talking as long as were sneaky. What are your Honors for? She glances at me, not turning away from the ready stance. Saved another Peacekeeper from a lunatic with a trident. He was an idiot but a good shot. Just not very prepared. She doesnt ask about mine. On the screen theyre showing the District Two reaping, the mentor mounting the stage to give a speech, and her eyes are fixed on it. Instinct says she knows him. We stand in silence for a moment, watching as the two tributes are shown. My c ompanions attention doesnt waver, but discipline was always my worst aspect and it isnt often we get to make friends. So I try again. What do you think of them? Good. Very good. Potential winners? The odds are in their favour. You watch the odds? Stay on top. Nose to the ground. All that stuff, I say. She gives a quick flash of a smile at the old training mantras before turning back to the screen. District Three. Ive seen this four times already. The young boy with the hair just asking for a serum treatment and the girl with the odd face. Not ugly, just odd. The sort of face that stylists would say has character, makes her stand out. In the Capitol shed probably be a model. When were you in Four? I press. I was there on a two month posting b efore I was in Three and liked it. Four is relaxed, as far as districts go, and the sunset over the sea is something very few Capitol people can say theyve ever seen for real. I even got to meet Finnick Odair, though only in

passing and only through my mask. Though I suppose that was lucky, because as shameful as it is, I blushed. Three month stint just after last Games. Their two dont look up to much this year. Theyre on screen right now. The boy looks terrified but the girl looks like she could be a favourite. Instinct, again. But my companion clearly isnt impressed. After a few moments in which the fairy below us change to a vivid pink, she continues, The ones to watch: Careers. Marvel, Glimmer, Cato, Clove. Finch. Savannah and Flynn. Thresh, Rue. Katniss. You have a good memory. I try not to sound too impressed. We have to have a decent memory, but knowing all those names after less than a day is exceptional. I can only just remember all the tributes faces and the important odds. Boy from Two, 3/1. Highest odds. Girl from Eleven, 21/1. Lowest odds. I know. Head Peacekeeper Chastes voice snaps through the earplug, crisp and clear as if he was standing right next to me. Milena, Havelock. Helmets on. One minute to showtime. All Peacekeepers on Victory Road to assume ceremonial stance. Theres no arguing with a voice like that. I snap my helmet down over my head and despite the grates for my ears, my hearing is muffled. My view, however, is unrestricted. I can still see the sparkling lights and the colourful crowd, the buildings glowing with life. I can still feel the anticipation. Havelock, my companion says. As in? As in the Gamemaker, yes. Now were in full uniform, both of us look just like your standard Peacekeepers on duty, apart from the little Capitol Honors badges stuck to our arms. Down on Victory Road, two lines of our colleagues have appeared out of nowhere and stand, one arm across the chest-plate, the other poised by the gun. The crowd presses between them, faces turning to the balcony. Spotlights are pointing as us. The suit is hot, much too hot; it wasnt made for being the centre of attention. But the Capitol people arent looking at us. Theyre watching the door. Havelock what? asks my companion. I can hardly hear her over the whistles and cheers and I expect Head Peacekeeper Chastes voice snapping back into my eardrums at any moment, but its been a long time since I got to say I made a friend. Nobody can see my mouth, anyway. Cordelia Havelock. Eyes forwards, back straight. Its automatic by now. Look for dangers: there are none. You? Milena. Portia. Here he comes. How she can tell this I dont know, but shes right. Behind us, theres the whooshing sound of the doors being flung open. Footsteps, strong and important. I risk a peek out of the corner of my visor, my first up-close look at the President. Hes exactly as he looks on screens, only bigger. And the screens dont capture his presence. Its like Head Peacekeeper Chastes, only stronger. The Head Peacekeeper can silence a room just by walking into it. President Snow silences an entire city. After the noise, the sudden silence is deafening. There are two girls with him, but I pay them no attention. The new advisors, probably. Theyre not part of my job description today. One of them fidgets. Ladies and gentlemen of the Capitol, President Snow begins, and his voice is soft and gravelly at the same time, and so compelling you cant help but listen. We are here, each and every one of us, every man, woman and child, thanks to the bravery of our forefathers. Their resolute defence in the face of adversity and conflict. Their courage. Their power. Every year we honour that power. Every year we exact a little more revenge on those who made them suffer. Every year we demonstrate the power of the Capitol, so we shall never have to suffer as they did. Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight is a grand night. Tomorrow will be more so. Tomorrow I make my big address, when the tributes are before us. For now, I urge you to enjoy the festivities and will keep you from the betting shops, who I dont doubt are eager to take your money, no longer. This is the seventy fourth year of the glorious reign of the Capitol as we know it. Let the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games begin! And the noise nearly knocks me backwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Clove_Thenardier It is a peculiar process in which one becomes immune to atrocity. The citizens of my home city have certainly undergone this. How else could they cheer as they watch children slaughter one another?

In a rather ironic twist, it is only the president himself whom I am certain knows the full evil of the yearly occurrences. Of course, he also happens to be the only citizen capable of putting an end to the Games. Somewhere in my heart I do despise him so, but I find it is best for myself if I put any emotions of loathing I feel for those I am assigned to serve aside. For tonight this means putting aside my feelings towards the president. It will be easier tomorrow. I will be assigned to one of the female tributes to serve for the remainder of the week. Most of them are even younger than I am. I doubt I will have to fight the urge to hate one, especially since the odds are likely the poor girl I serve will die within three weeks of our first meeting. A woman with hair that resembles the size, shape and shade of cotton candy taps me on the arm. She hands me a glass. Refill this with wine, She orders. I do not bother acknowledging her request. Instead I merely do as she commands and give the full glass back to her. The Capital citizens prefer that anyway. Ladies and gentleman, The presidents words ring out through the party and summon all attention to him with the least of efforts, welcome to the opening of the 74th Hunger Games! An intoxicated man knocks over a row of glasses. Clean that up! He snaps at me, before sauntering off to listen to the presidents speech. I bend down to pick up the broken glass. The president begins, Today is the start of a brand new Games. The seventy fourth annual Hunger Games serves as a reminder of the rebels defeat nearly a century ago and above all else, that the Capital is always victorious. I almost frown. I have heard his post reaping speech previously. It is almost always the same, with a few subtle changes each year. But in the two sentences he has said, he has already gone in a different direction than before. I suppose it is none of my business. I throw the broken glass away and start to wipe up the spilled wine. But I cannot help but be curious. The president goes on. The Games are our past. They are our present. They are our future. They are our doom, I add mentally. The new Head Gamemakers, Kieli Steel and Selene Flint, will take this as their new motto in running these Games. Is that a threat? I finish cleaning the mess. Another woman, dressed in attire remarkably similar to a peacocks plumage, whispers in my ear. Get me another tray of those yellow chicken meat things, She says. It irritates me so when the Capital citizens fail to adequately communicate what it is they desire me to get or do. At least this time I have an instinct as to what meat the peacock woman is referring to. Two tributes, twenty four in all, are on their way from each of the twelve districts of Panem. When they arrive, they shall be prepared for all the Hunger Games may hold. After one week, they will enter and remain in an arena until one lone victor remains. Perhaps I am insane, but President Snow appeared to put a special emphasis on the words one lone victor. This is puzzling. Why would he need to emphasize that? The Games have always had one lone victor.

Aeneas hated this fact. I remember one day when I asked him about his particular hatred of it, he answered, If there were four victors, three, or even just two, then there could be permanent alliances. The tributes could hope, maybe my allies will survive as well as myself. The districts could think, maybe both of our children can survive this year. But they cant. To survive the arena, every single other living creature must be dead. The Games dont just destroy peoples lives- they destroy their hopes. Well at least he is beyond being bothered by the Games now. I remind myself of the necessity of forgetting about Aeneas. He was before my Avox life. He is gone now. And I must only focus on my Avox life, if I wish to have any life at all. I get the tray of chicken the peacock woman asked for and deliver it to her. I should be grateful to the presidents speech. The distraction it has given the citizens has allowed me to escape punishment for my slowness. I have done well at forgetting. My family is a faint blur in my mind. My surname a jumble of meaningless letters. Now I only have two memories: of the boy I seek to forget, and the name I never want to lose. I have a stab of sympathy for the future bloodbath tributes, the ones whose names will go forgotten. All they will be to the celebratory people here is an empty face. Let us celebrate, Snow says, and let the Games begin! I want to remember all the names of all the tributes, just so that there is one person in the world who remembers them as more than an empty face. To, in my own miniscule way, rebel in the only way I dare. Aeneas would be proud, I think. A man looks at me. You there! He barks. Get me some more wine. I have a name, I think. My name is Lavinia. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ DawnXx
She thought that the peace of mind that came with volunteering for the games would grant them the serenity she had been oh so desperately seeking. But now, as she was surrounded by the sound of people gossiping and laughing, as well as the smell of extremely bad body odour and unique deodorant of her escort, it seemed that peace would be the last thing she would receive. Of course, for they would all, except one, be dead in just a few weeks. "Welcome, citizens, to the opening of the 74th Hunger Games!" called President Snow, as he stood on the balcony. People in colorful dresses stared the old men in awe. One woman with big, plastic birds in her hair and great, orange stains on her cheeks almost fell to her knees. The man standing next to her, with vibrant green hair and eyelashes, had to wrap an arm around her waist. "Each year the twelve districts of Panem would offer two tributes to compete in the Hunger Games. We salute your courage and your sacrifice, tributes. And we wish you Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" The crowd went wild. The citizens of the Capitol exploded in a mess of euphoria that could not be stopped even by the sound of a cannon. A few men and women started jumping up and down, clapping as if the greatest thing ever happened. It was just a speech. It was a speech announcing the death of twenty-three innocent children. And that was exactly what the sadistic citizens were so excited about. A little boy stood out from the rest, as he was silent. Not by disgust, but by fascination. He wanted to be just like President Snow when he grew up. That was his dream. To be rich and respected. Yes, respected. Because for years he was treated like he was dirt under an old man's shoe. The children

didn't play with him, even though he had a fake sword just like Dedalus. His parents gave it to him as a present. But the only one that wanted to play with him was his little sister. They would never know what hit them. Once he was chosen to be the next President, he would show them what he was really made of. Not that scrawny guy everyone loved making fun of. Not that loner that always sat alone outside because his parents were fighting again. He was already dreaming about how he would decorate his mansion. Those fountains would definitely be the first thing he would remove. Ever since Dedalus pushed him into the water and held him down for God knows how long, he had a certain fear of water. And there would only be green lights. That was his favorite color. It was the color of Laska's eyes. Pretty little Laska. She would go out with him once he was president. They would get married, too. She had no choice, because he would be president. They would have beautiful children with green eyes and a cute button nose. Maybe they would inherit his wobbly knees, or his messy hair. But that wouldn't matter. Because he would be president. And the children would play with them, too. His children would grow up happy, surrounded by money and luxurious items only he could afford. "Watch it, kid!" yelled a man, a furious look on his face. Apparently he had been so deep in thought that he didn't notice the older man bumping into his shoulder. He had a nasty sneer on his white painted face. His lips were colored black, probably to make his yellow teet h seem more white. It didnt help. "Sorry sir," he said through gritted teeth. Just you wait, he thought. Just a few more years. Bise! Mind your steps, will you? scolded his mother, shooting him a disappointed look. His father shook his head. Yes, mother, was his answer. What about them? he thought. Theyre obviously not going to live in the mansion with me and Laska. Eeh, well see then. In a few years, when Snow would retire, he would make the decisions around her. He would be the leader. The alpha. The President. Yes, he would be one of the rare individuals that would find serenity, and she would be one of the twenty-three that should be killed. At least, she hoped. Because he was a Capitol citizen, and she was just a tribute looking for the peace of mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TemperedGM As I stand next to President Snow, I watch the people below swarm like bees. They're all itching at the fact the Reaping has now concluded, and tributes will soon be arriving in the Capitol for the Tribute Parade. I've never seen one in real life, so I can't wait for it. I've seen them on the television, but I specifically remember how this one will turn out. This year starts the rebellion. The rebellion I'm going to stop. President Snow steps forward, and raises his glass in the air. All eyes are on him. That's what I want one day. For people to watch my every move adoringly. "Welcome, citizens, to the opening of the 74th Hunger Games!" He announces clearly. "This year's tributes have been chosen, and I think we should go over them. So, from District One...Glimmer and Marvel. Both volunteers." I stare at the boy and girl from District One, remembering how they die. The boy with an arrow in his chest, and the girl being stung to death by tracker jackers. When we told President Snow about it, he laughed at the thought of the girl screaming whilst running around in circles. The crowd smiles at the pair, a few probably deciding to sponsor them already. Little do they know the pair from District Two is the one to watch. The President shows Cato and Clove's photos, and automatically the crowd goes wild. Noone needs to be told that these two are volunteers. The deadly grin on these two's faces proves that they're deadly enough to win these Games. And I'm sure

this time around, one of them will. "Next up we have District Three, Noah and Mailey. Will anyone be sponsoring them?" Snow asks. A silence falls over the crowd. "What I thought." He laughs, as does the crowd. "Moving on to District Four. We have yet another volunteer in this batch. Breck and Marina. Marina being the volunteer. She might not look like much, but she could win. Don't ever count anybody out, people." He smirks. "Coming from District Five, we have Eddie and Finch. Finch is quite the name, but neither of these tributes look like much. Not many from Five are. We can all agree they won't last a second in the arena." This time, even I laugh. The President must have forgotten that Finch made it to the Top Five tributes left in the Games. She used her brain to outsmart her opponents. Something rarely seen in the Games. "At the halfway mark is Jason and Tamora from District Six. Yawn. We will definitely see these two in the sky, am I right?" He questions the audience. The crowd smiles at his joke, and some even chuckle a little. Next is one of my favorites, District Seven. I love how angry the tributes from this place are. Hopefully these two tributes will give us some action, please view Ash and Willow. Both are sixteen years of age, so they shouldn't be too weak in the arena. Maybe one of them might even come out on top." "District Eight, textiles. That's the only use they have to us. It's certainly not bringing home victors. Flynn and Savannah will hopefully represent their home to the best of their ability, though. Coming up next, we have Rye and Demetria from District 9. These tributes are both fourteen years old, but look determined. I like them. I just hope they don't let me down. Next up we have Byron and Susan from District Ten. I'd love to sugarcoat it, but there's no other way to say this. Nobody likes District Ten, especially with the stylist they have." He says, and the whole crowd bursts out laughing. The laughing continues for a little too long, and President Snow claps his hands together. Sometimes I forget he's such a rude and demanding person. "Moving on..." He starts. "From District Eleven comes Thresh and Rue. Rue is a mere twelve years old, so I don't think we'll be seeing very much of her in these Games. However, Thresh looks like he could take people down. We just may have a victor from District Eleven people!" He shouts excitedly, but he soon loses his smile when the pictures of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark pop up. "The pair of tributes from District Twelve...Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. These two tributes may not look like much, but I believe they could go far. Too far. I don't need underdogs winning my Games people. Don't sponsor people out of pity." He says, his voice filled with hatred. With that, he turns away, and walks back into his mansion. Kieli and I follow him back inside. He seemed pretty angry at them, even though they are the face of rebellion. I can't have him going crazy in the middle of these Games. If he does, they'll fail. And we can't fail. These Games have to be a success. If not, my future will be more of a failure than it is now. My life will be over. Everything that is Selene Flint will become nothing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ EverlarkForever_ I was both confused, but excited, by the presence of these two girls that I had just made Head Games Makers. They seemed so convincing in their story that it would be rude not to believe them and to not give them the chance at proving that they werent two crazy people who had simply walked into my office

with this pre-planned motive for destroying my Games. The say that the problems all start with Katniss Everdeen. I dont know whether or not I want to believe them. Katniss Everdeen seems of no threat to me, or to the progress of the Games. She is a volunteer and, as an underdog, she is never going to get the sponsors to see her through the first day of the Games; not with what Seneca Crane has planned for this year. But, there is no time to worry about them now, for the Tributes have all been Reaped and the 74th Annual Hunger Games are going to begin very soon. I look forward to this event more than I do my own birthday because I love reminding people that, no matter how hard they rebel, theyre always going to be under the control of The Capitol and that is never going to change; no matter how hard they try to make it change. I took my steps onto the balcony, Kieli and Selene followed me out in their ceremonial robes so that the residents of The Capitol would know who they were and would cheer for the presence of them as they did every single year; like they were all they came here to see and they didnt care about anyone else who was involved in making this entertainment possible for the people. I took my position upon my podium, looking out at the wave of colours which was now standing before my very eyes. The vibrant dresses, the crazy hairstyles and the in-your-face make up which was so common in The Capitol because my residents were better than anything the Districts could ever produce - but they all still looked good in their own unique way and they made sure they each stood out for their individual reasons rather than for the same reasons, which is what made me proud to be the President of here. That, and the fact I had total control over the Districts and, if they put a single toe out of line, then I would make sure the suffered and would ensure their life was never the same again. After a couple of moments of taking in the people below me and the overall ambiance of the moment, I raised my arm into a slight wave, just to show my appreciation to all these people for being here tonight to celebrate the most waited for event of the year. People betting on their favourite Tributes, based upon what they had already seen from them at the Reapings and hoping that it was going to be even more improved upon from the previous year. I managed to turn my lips up into something that formed a vague smile, something which I rarely did unless I was left no other option but to do so. All eyes were on me and all ears were waiting to see what I had to say about this years games and to see if there was anything I would tell them about what to expect from the two girls standing behind me. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak, the entire sea of people silenced and looked onto me with a certain eagerness about them, and I loved that they were at my very command.

Simply because of who I was and the power I had over them. Welcome, citizens, to the opening of the 74th Hunger Games. This is year is going to be spectacular, and you should be sure to look out for some exciting surprises which we have planned for you all. I do hope youve all been placing your bets wisely because, as we all know, the Tribute is either going to be from District 1 or 2 because theyre the only people who really have the power to win. I started, and the audience laughed at the last comment I made, before falling silent again and allowing me to carry on with my speech. Seriously though, we have got a wide range of Tributes this year and there might be a couple who surprise you. Little Rue from District 11 might be small, but there is also the chance shes got something up her sleeve for you all. Cato from District 2 seems to have a confidence about him which means hes not here to mess around and will definitely take out everything in his own path for a gain. And, how about the boy from District 12? He might be worth backing because you never know what a person can do, simply from looking at them. Just remember, keep your options open and enjoy this years games; whether it be on your own or with your family. Youre not going to want to take your eyes off your screens. I can guarantee you that one. The silence ended and there was an eruption of cheers from the people below me. The colours all merging together to form some sort of weird and strange mix which, if you looked at it for too long, made your eyes feel like youd had little too much to drink the previous night. As soon as they had all got over the excitement of the prospect of what they could look forward to this year in comparison to previous years, they all fell silent once again and waited to see if there was anything else I had to say on the matter in question. Keili and Selene here are going to make sure youre not disappointed, and Im sure theyve got their ways of making this games more dramatic than anything youve experienced before. This year is going to be a real reminder of everything we, The Capitol and I, President Snow, stand for and just how forgiving we really are. So, its with the greatest of pleasures that I say, Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour. Especially with your bets. Please, enjoy the party and celebrate the very reason we are all here tonight. I concluded, giving the audience another wave to thank them all for listening to me and to show that I really did appreciate them all being here tonight before the main event tomorrow. The Tributes Parade. The official start of The Hunger Games. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MagmaKepner The crowds below are filled with shouting and laughing and extremely loud music. I dislike this week precisely because of the colours and the people and the noise and especially the laughter. Theres always too many people. It makes my job extremely hard, though there is not much to do anyways. No, next week is when my job truly begins. And let me tell you, my job is not easy on the mind or heart, which is why on any other occasion I would enjoy the colours and the people and the musicbut watching these people dance and sing and party in the streets just makes me ill; very ill indeed.

I can smell the champagne that people breathe in, and I feel the peoples emotions as if they were my own. It causes quite a headache, let me tell you, to be this close to people yet so far form their reality. I could reach out and pluck them from their parties with just a single tap, but I settle for just watching things go by. Besides, there are always one or two people I have to pluck here, but there will be plenty of time to pluck people in a week. Which is disheartening, to say the least. My counterparts are separated into their Districts, one, maybe two in the higher districts- they have the longest, most tedious jobs. Their work never ends, while mine is considerably less than theirs, more vacation time for the work I do. The others tend to dislike me, unfortunately. Their loss, I do suppose. The faces of the tributes who have been reaped already shine bright on the walls of the white buildings in the Square, and I despise to think that almost all of them will murder or be murdered. Murdering their own kind, their own siblings, how disgusting and repelling it truly is. And trust me, Ive seen it all- nothing compares to the atrocious act of murdering each other for others entertainment. Each child is only a child, each child who is killed had a family and a mind and thoughts and feelings and let me tell you that it hurts me to have to take them, weeping usually, away. And to think that people are jubilant, laughing without a care in the world, down on the streets. I need a well-earned vacation sometime soon or else I will do something drastic that will get me sent back to the pits of Hell in 0.04 seconds flat. It is quite cold down there. ~~~ The night begins to wane, leaning towards midnight, and the party is revving up, loud music now blaring, and lights exploding overhead in a plethora of noise. Its beautiful. The colours. Colours are some of the only beauty I get to see, and with my job, if there is such a beautiful sight such as fireworks, I entitle myself to it. Nevertheless, the colours do eventually fade, just like everything in life, and I am left staring into the dark abyss that is known as reality. As midnight strikes, the clocks around the Square chiming, a loud cheer emanates from the congregation that now spans almost five blocks in circumference. The faces that light up the Capitol walls slowly disintegrates into nothing, and is replaced instead by Capitol seals, each wall housing thei District emblem of the tribute who once was pictured there. Upon the large balcony that adorns the largest building in the square, a man stands, aging, along with two young girls beside him, each of them with strange, jubilant smirks on their faces. I have not witnessed the two girls before, and I cannot gain any information from them, which makes me weary and suspicious and makes my head pound more than it is already. The man, however, I have had the utmost pleasure of meeting, many a time. The President of Panem, Coriolanus Snow, with his white hair and his sinister smile. A hearty fellow, always smelling of white roses mixed with, if I dare say it, a lingering scent of souls. His perfume is so much more prominent, however, when I am right beside him, waiting for him to finish what he started. He repels me, to say the very least; makes my job infinitely times harder and longer. His booming voice recedes over the waves of people, his face being broadcasted to every television and District Square. Welcome, everybody! With those two words, an enormous cheer erupts from the crowd, the many drinks rising up in succession, many couples kissing as if it is New Years. President Snow raises his hand, causing the crowd to fall into a hushed anticipation, and for families in the Districts to either weep or turn away in disgust. I would like to welcome you all, he says, his voice strenuous and booming, his face smiling joyously to the thousands of cameras zoomed into his face, to the seventy-fourth Hunger Games! The anticipation in the crowd breaks, cheering erupts in an eruption, and fireworks explode in the sky,

swirls of green and red and blues and purples and wonderful, wonderful colours everywhere. People in the District turn their televisions off- the opening speech is the only thing not mandatory to watch, except for the first opening lines of the ceremony, formally opening the Games. Thousands of televisions immediately turn off in the Districts, and the television company reels in disgust at the absolute abomination this years viewer counts are. Of course, they calculate, more people are in Capitol Square than ever before, so perhaps its an average viewership. This year, I have the, he coughs, bringing out his red handkerchief from his white suit pocket, dabbing his mouth carefully; before tucking it back in his pocket neatly, honor of having two very important people advise me with running the Games. I expect them both to bring forth stunning ideas to keep you all entertained and the tributes on their feet! The crowd by now is in a frenzy, cheering and screaming and drinking and doing heaven knows what with themselves. Probably illegal stuff too. The two girls stand taller, their matching grins extending to the far reaches of their faces. They wave politely to the crowd, much to the crowds delight, as they begin screaming and cheering at even louder volumes than humanly possible. I expect these Games to be new, exciting and refreshing to all! Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever! With that, President Coriolanus Snow ushers the two strange girls quickly back into the large wooden doors of the Presidents second home and work space, and as the large doors slam above the crowd, the seals on the sides of the buildings slowly disintegrates back into the solemn expressions of the tributes this year. A brief speech, much shorter than last years, however it matter to no one, and it especially does not faze the partygoers, as to them they merely have more time to celebrate and revel in the imminent deaths of twenty-three innocent children. The music begins again, a catchy tune lulling overtop the commotion, and colours erupt in the sky once more. I can hear the whispers and murmurs of the crowd, if I listen closely enough- if you would like to take a quick listen? Its mostly jabbering and gibberish, unintelligible slurs formed incoherent to the most keenly trained listener from the champagne and booze, however you can often hear heated debates about the tributes, too. It is a perk of my job, you know. Murmurs of how the competition is presumed to be fierce- never has anyone ever seen a person volunteer in the highest District, and a girl, for one! How that girl from five is quite keen and cunningthe careers best look out for her or quite possibly get killed. So many whispered secrets about the tributes, speculation on who will kill whom. The best bets on tributes are the obvious pairs from One and Two, but Clove and Cato seem to be gathering the rankings in quickly- the bets placed piling underneath each of the individual Tributes picture, only one of the five betting slots changing- the other four saved for post-Chariot Rides, postTraining Scores, post-Interviews, and the Games themselves. Rankings are distributed underneath the bets, Cato first, a small girl from Eleven last. The twelve tributes seem to do quite well for once, ranking in at 15 and 16, while the brute male from Eleven comes in at a staggering 10th place. There is not much deviation, however, with most of the bets on other tributes however- save the fact that the District Four pair seem slightly less-betted on than usual, not unlikely considering the boy is extremely young- it is such a rarity and quite saddening to see such young a boy not get volunteered for-especially for a Career district. The middle districts range from bets 11 up to 23, with the top 10 bets being the six Careers, the brute from Eleven taking 10th, a shocking twist with the District Five girl taking 7th, and the District Three pair taking bet places 8 and 9.

People across the Districts place their own bets, at home, at work and at their marketplaces and bars. I fear that these Games will be quite different than most, though please do not ask me why- just consider it a nagging intuition. And may I apologize in advance for the twenty-three souls I will have to collect during the Games, and the shattered one that will remain. Its not easy being Death you know. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ GhostOfGamesPast There he stood, on top of the world, and nobody could bring him down. From his throne, President Cornelius Snow could see the entire festival below him: a party hosted by himself to celebrate the end of the Reapings and the tributes that would arrive with the eastern sun in the morning. Snow could see anything from the feathered hats that many of the women were wearing - apparently, they were in style this season - to the streamers decorating city square, or even the twelve lanterns set across the square, one per district. Those of a betting mood would light a flame in the lantern of the district they thought would win. Once a district lost its final tribute, the flame would be extinguished. That thought brought Snow joy. "Sir, have you seen the lanterns?" the voice of a young woman cut through his thoughts, and Snow turned around to face it, only to notice one of the Gamemakers (the Steel girl, he believed) standing behind him. They had claimed to come from the future to protect the Capitol. Snow wasn't convinced, of course, but the safety of his rule was more important than checking the veracity of their words. At the worst, he could have the two charlatans executed for their mistruths. "Yes, Kieli, I have. Everything seems perfectly fine. Two is ahead, as usual, and One and Four are close behind. All the outlying districts are barely aflame." "I'd check again, Mr. President," insisted the girl. Snow looked into the crowd; his jaw dropped as he saw what had occurred. "The twelfth flame..." "The twelfth flame has passed all others but the second, yes. It seems as if your citizens are intrigued by Katniss Everdeen, the girl we warned you about." "Did you not stop her sister from being Reaped?" The anger in Snow's tone did not faze Kieli in the slightest. "That would be impossible, Sir," she said. Now, Snow could feel the fear in her voice again and it pleased him; he had no power over those he did not terrify. "Besides, it is much better to kill her off. That way, we are certain she will never be able to start the rebellion that burns us down."

"Burns us down?" It had become Snow's turn to show fear. He shook not because of the night's cold, but because terror iced his veins. "Will she burn me alive, then?" For what must have been the first time since his election, Snow envied those at the party. They danced and are and gossiped, completely unworried by circumstances they knew nothing of. Citizens of the Capitol were carefree. They had no responsibilities; as long as they had the money to pay, they could do whatever they pleased. "It's a figure of speech," explained Kieli. The words soothed him, but the fear was not quite dead. Then again, none of his fears had ever died off; he was still petrified by the thought that someone might discover how he'd risen to the throne. "Since your people named her the Girl on Fire, the rebels planned their entire rebellion to match the flames." "So they don't burn me, then?" The relief in Snow's voice was obvious to just about anybody who listened, though Kieli knew it wouldn't last. Those with power were clever enough not to feel relief often, and Snow was definitely one of the cleverest men to hold - or have held - power in Panem. "Would you like to know how you will die, Mr. President?" "Any man would like to know how they die, Miss Steele. I, however, would love nothing better; knowledge is the best army." "I'm warning you, this is far from pleasant." "Pleasantries are for imbeciles." Kieli sighed. "They tie you to a post for the girl to kill you - one arrow through the heart was all it took. She changed her mind, shot the new president, and chaos ensued. We aren't sure whether you asphyxiated in your laughter or were trampled. Most experts believe the second is more likely." "Trampled? Are you saying I die, suffocated by a bunch of idiotic, frenzied rebels?" "Mr. President, please try to enjoy he party. If our plan works, you won't have to worry about this anyways, and I promise that the plan will work. Katniss Everdeen will not win these Games." Snow looked at the people enjoying themselves and then to the torches which were burning as bright as they could. It seemed as if the second could touch the stars, but the twelfth was far too close for comfort. He would not enjoy the party; he would keep an eye out on the torch and Katniss Everdeen. He would make sure the girl died. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Clato_

The Capitol was buzzing with multicoloured citizen. Everyone was here for one reason - the President was going to confirm the 74th Annual Hunger Games. There was no big screens to project the tributes faces this year; the Capitol would flash the innocent or pure evil - faces of the tributes on the beautiful architecture of the Capitol. The Capitol began to hush as the skyscrapers around them glowed slightly. The face of District One's girl, who was named Glimmer, shone. Her light blonde hair tumbled down elegantly. She received a huge cheer, the Capitol was crazy over the Careers. Marvel, the boy from District One, smirked in his photo. His dirty blonde hair was smoothed back. The Capitol was in awe at his cheeky smile and his beautiful eyes. He was cheered just as much as Glimmer. The girl from District Two, Clove, glared at the Capitol citizens. If looks could kill, she would be a clear winner. She looked pretty small, but the Capitol know that you should never underestimate a tribute because of their physical appearance. The Capitol screamed over Clove; her sadistic smile won the crowd over. Her counterpart was a giant compared to her. Cato smirked the same kind of grin Marvel grinned, only it seemed more serious - he could tear the head off of a small tribute if he tried. His blonde hair was beautifully ruffled, standing up slightly. He received the biggest cheer yet - District Two is always the favourite. The girl from District Three, Mailey, looked weak and malnourished. Her hair was scraped back into an unstylish ponytail. Not very interesting. She didn't receive a very big cheer. District Three's boy, Noah, looked a bit more promising. His black hair swept around his head. He received a slight cheer, but compared to Cato's cheer, it was like silence. The crowd were surprised at District Four's tributes. They must've had a slight off-year. The girl, Marina, looked somewhat strong, but she didn't have what it took to be a Career. She received a cheer, as District Four always does, but it wasn't loud. The boy, Breck, was a surprise to the audience. His small, curly hair and his freckles gave him an innocent look. You wouldn't think he was a Career, but you never know. He received more of a sympathetic coo, the cheering barely audible as the citizens made high pitched squeals. District Five is never really that great, but this year, the tributes looked interesting. The girl, Finch, looked at the crowd through squinted eyes. Her ginger hair was tied up and her face was emotionless. She looked very intelligent. She received a small cheer. The male, Eddie, had black shaggy hair, tanned skin and a look on his face that indicated anger and confusion. If it wasn't for the doubt in his eyes, he would look strong from first glance. He got a bigger cheer than Finch, but it wasn't anything compared to the Careers.

The District Six female, Tamora, gave a small smirk in her picture. Her blonde hair was parted slightly to the left. She had her hair tied up in ponytails, giving her a slightly girly look. Her cheer wasn't very loud. The boy, Jason, had dark brown hair and a look of 'really, I can't be bothered,' plastered across his face. From first glance, he looked strong, but District Six aren't great contenders in these games. He received a small cheer. District Seven's girl, Willow, had her blonde hair messily plaited down her back. Her face carried a timid, innocent look. She received quite a big cheer, seeing as District Seven are normally very good. The Districts are in a hierarchy, with One and Two at the top, followed by Seven. Her male counterpart, Ash, had tanned skin, dark, messy hair and a strange look on his face, as if he didn't quite understand something. The Capitol realised that District Seven, physically, weren't anything special. However, he received a cheer out of sympathy. District Eight's girl was called Savannah. Her light copper coloured hair twirled around her disgusted face. She didn't want to be there. She received a small cheer. Normally, after Seven, people don't really seem to care. The skyscrapers changed, showing Flynn, her partner, on the buildings. His dark hair was swept to the side. He looked like an older, stronger tribute. He received quite a bit of a cheer, mainly because of his appearance. That's how tributes are judged - by their muscle mass and District. The girl from Nine was called Demetria. Her orange hair was straight. The freckles on her face stood out from her pale skin. Her emotion looked neutral. She didn't receive a large cheer. Rye, the boy from Nine, looked small and timid, but kind of relaxed at the same time. His darker skin contrasted from his district partner's. His cheer was small, like his height. Susan, District Ten's female, had her dark hair parted almost centrally. It was either really short, or it was tied up. She gave off an impression of 'I don't care.' She didn't get a big cheer. District Ten never do. The male from Ten was called Bryon. He was dark skinned and his black hair swept around his head messily. He scowled slightly, giving him a menacing look. He wasn't rejected like most tributes from Ten - his cheer was somewhat decent. The crowd went back to cooing as District Eleven's girl, Rue, popped up on screen. Her dark hair was frizzy and her big chocolate eyes made her look extremely innocent and adorable. The cooing immediately stopped when Thresh, the male, flashed on the skyscrapers. He scowled intensely. Normally, Eleven tributes are scrawny and underfed. Thresh was probably bigger than Cato. He received a massive cheer. Maybe District Eleven has a winner this year.

District Twelve's Katniss showed up on the screen. Her dark hair was braided from the side. Her grey eyes were piercing and fierce. Her cheer was surprisingly big too, especially for a tribute from Twelve. Last but not least was Peeta, the male. His ash blonde hair was messy, but cute. He looked strong physically, but he had a look of sadness and fear in his eyes. He was still cheered. It was weird to see District Twelve's tributes with meat on their bones. The Capitol livened up again, the names of various tributes being mentioned in conversation. The one screen that was set up was firing up. Two girls stood by his podium. One girl was small, her hair flowed in shiny silver waves down her back, with big eyes to match. The other girl stood tall, her brunette hair elegantly tumbling down, with eyes that sparkled like emeralds. Both had the same sadistic, sinister smirks in their sly faces, removing any innocence from their souls. The President came out, readjusting the white rose in his suit pocket. He cleared his throat as he stepped up to his podium. "Welcome, citizens, to the opening of the 74th Annual Hunger Games," he said in his deep tone. "Our twenty four tributes have been selected. Only one can remain victorious. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour." The Capitol screamed with excitement. The games had officially been opened. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ katniss-everdeen There is no party like a Capitol party. The lights glow like fireflies, hanging from the trees with brightly colored streamers falling from the branches. Music plays loudly, deafening anyone stupid enough to walk in front of the thousands of large speakers dotted all around this central square. The atmosphere is buzzing, the smell of sweets and flowers and overwhelming perfumes mixing with the crisp, evening air. The outfits are magnificent, the rainbow of fabrics, lace and paper parading around like a group of peacocks. I can barely move due to the large skirts of all the people around me. The projected images onto the skyscrapers light up the night, the eyes of every new tribute glaring down on us as we dance the night away. They range from the soft baby-blue eyes of the District One girl, all the way through to the forgettable grey eyes of the District Twelve volunteer. Despite her selfless sacrifice, barely anyone is talking about her tonight.

Ive been to parties like this before, and I have spent many an hour standing around and waiting for the President to come forward and give his heart-warming speech. He is a good public speaker something I could never be - and his speeches are always something to look forward too. A lilac-haired woman steps backwards straight into me, knocking my glasses further down my face. I push them back onto the bridge of my nose as she turns around. Oh, darling! she exclaims, her accent more prominent than most. I must apologise. I think Ive had a few too many to drink, if you ask me. Im Amethyst-Mai Jackson, only because my parents couldnt really decide on a name to give me. Oh well, two is always better than one! Im the stylist for District Seven this year. And who might you be? I hesitate for a second, trying not to shrink under the judging glare of her sparkling eyes. They are a soft red, yet still piercing if you dare to meet them. M...March Tinker, I reply, both attempting and failing to hide my stutter. I...I...I do the be...betting sta...statistics. Oh, how delightful! replies Amethyst, doing a very good job of acting as if she is interested. That must include a lot of hard work. I was never really that good with figures, so I went and studied fashion instead. One day, I know Ill be the Head Stylist to the President himself, but until then Ill stick with designing forest fairy outfits for the gorgeous District Seven tributes we have this year. I take it youve been working hard all day then, deciding the opening statistics for when betting opens tomorrow, hmm? Which tributes do you think have a good chance this year? W...Well, its h...hard to t...tell from appearance a...alone, I explain, again having to push my glass up my face. II mean, theyre all v...very intr...intriguing. I al...always put higher numbers o...on the C...Careers, though. Theyre always v...very good. How interesting! Tell me, March, what do you think of our little, fabulous volunteer down from District Twelve this year? Cinna, one of the stylists I trained with, specifically put his name down to work with her and I was wondering if you had some extra information? You know, just to see if he has a reason or whether he just likes a challenge. Shes v...very brave, I answer, although I still have not quite worked out where I am going with what I am about to say. A...and she must be v...very selfless. I mean, she v...volunteered for her little s...sister after all. I j.just cant see whether s...she has any a...actual skills. She could just be bl.bloodbath material. Makes sense, laughs Amethyst, adjusting the long purple skirt that trails along the grass. Anyway, I think Ive just seen the President step onto his balcony. Im going to go find a good spot to watch. Ill see you around, March Tinker. As she leaves, she plants a light kiss on my cheek. I begin to blush quite vividly, but Im hoping that the red lights hanging from the trees will help obscure it. As she scampers away in her high-heels, the lights dim and become a single spotlight focused onto the Presidential Balcony.

Welcome, citizens, to the opening of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games! The crowd goes wild, their cheering masking any other sound that may have dared interrupt the Presidents speech. Its been a long and exciting day full of Reapings so that we can find the twenty-four tributes that will have the honour of competing for their Districts in our annual Pageant of Honour. Now, we stand here and celebrate that those twenty-four brave warriors have been found. They watch over us now, their faces the main attraction of our party tonight. Whilst the Hunger Games were originally designed to punish the Districts for the rebellion, they have now become a staple of every-day life, and these tributes will join the history books along with the ancestors that fought so bravely in previous Games. Tomorrow, the tributes will be parades in front of you. However, tonight we party in their honour. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and may the odds be ever in your favour! The President takes a glass off a nearby table, raising the drink into the air to toast the tributes. The audience follows him, with the exception of me. I dont drink - alcohol clouds my mind. As the party begins again, I decide that I have spent too much time on fun. I need to get back to deciding the statistics, to make sure that they are all ready when betting opens at exactly ten in the morning tomorrow. Not to mention the fact I am much better with numbers than I am with people. I find my way towards the exit, but the crowds become thicker and thicker. Just as I am about to find my way out, my glasses are knocked from my face. Panicking, I fall to my knees in order to find them. Without my glass, I am practically blind. People often ridicule me for having them rather than contact lenses, but the lenses always give me an allergic reaction. I crawl around on the ground for a few minutes, probably looking extremely drunk rather than panicked. However, eventually I hear someone call out my name. March? March! I scramble back to my feet, finding my way to the caller. Even in my blurred vision, her mass of lilac hair is obvious. Here you go, whispers Amethyst, placing the glass back over my eyes herself. Her face swims into view. T...thankyou, I answer, smiling slightly and hoping that I am not blushing. An...anyway, I have t...to g...go now. Lots of w...work to be d...doing, you kn...know. Calculating chances of victory, I know, she replies, smiling as she looks straight at me. But, Mr Tinker, Ive always been a girl for the shy and clever types. How about you calculate your chances with me? And with that, she plants her lips straight on mine, and I begin to think that, just like all the tributes are hoping, my chance of victory in this situation is one-hundred percent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ paintbrushes I nestled into Prim's arms as she gently stroked my fur, and I responded with purring at her. She sat in the oak wood chair in the dining room, with me on her lap, watching intently at the screen in front of us. Her mom, who sat in the chair across from us didn't say a word, but then again she never did. Out of all my years living in the Everdeen household, she barely spoke. Primrose was my only friend. I could say I was glad Katniss was gone; I never liked her after she attempted to drown me in that bucket. Since then, I hissed at her every chance I could get. But the fact that she took Primrose's place in whatever event that everyone hated, made me respect her a bit more than what little like I had for her at the moment. I looked at the screen in front of us, and observed the colourful humans onscreen. They were weird creatures - I will never understand Capitol citizens. Here the Seam was my only true home and where I'll always belong. I could never imagine living in a colourful clown city like that. Two men sitting at what seemed to be a desk, with neat papers in front of them began to talk about the so called tributes this year on the screen. One was adorned with blue hair and a fake spray tan, and the other looked like a chihuahua in a wig. From what I knew from these 'Hunger Games' was that it was a fight to the death between twenty four people from each of the twelve districts, and the last person standing wins. But I wasn't aware on how commercialized and superficial the Capitol made it be. They treated it like a toy, just for their own entertainment. I realized why Prim and Katniss disliked these Games so much, and frankly, so do I, as of now. The tributes began to roll in on their horse carried chariots dressed in ridiculous costumes. I looked up at Prim to see her reaction on what she thought. She seemed eager. Not excitedly but instead, anxious. As if waiting for something. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking but the only thing that came out of my mouth was a meow. Prim looked down at me and smiled. She didn't understand a word I would mean to tell her, because she can't understand my language. But I could understand her. Every word. Sometimes human's words don't make sense, but I pick up on what I hear and see. The district One chariots rolled out and they wore matching pink costumes and fake smiles for the crowd. Fake. Fake smiles, all around.

I don't fake emotions. Why do humans do that? If I see someone I don't like, I'll let them let know that. Like Katniss. I'll hiss at her and she'll threaten to cook me. We have an equal relationship that is understood. Everyone should have that. The district two tributes looked like they were just waiting to kill someone. When I'm angry I will just find the nearest wall and claw at it, but I wouldn't kill. Unless they were dangling a steak in my face, I wouldn't kill. More or less likely. The district three tributes looked like they really didn't want to be there, and the rest of the tributes all had the same boring expressions. The District Eleven duo's chariot rolled in and I was almost surprised with the size difference. The boy was built like an ox; big, strong, and buff. The girl on the other hand looked like a bird ready to fly away. Gentle and sweet, like Prim. If the two of them met they probably would have been good friends. I didn't know if Primrose had other friends or not, because her and Katniss would leave five days a week for almost half a day, and Prim would always return with a smile in her face. A long time ago, I remember Katniss vaguely mentioning the word 'school', but I didn't know what it meant. Maybe they went to a school? I will probably never know. Katniss and her district partner's chariot came last. I think this was what Primrose was eager for, because by now she had shifted and is now at the edge of her seat. They were dressed in matching black body suits, which somewhat resembled coal. The amount of makeup that was on Katniss' face almost scared me. I was so used to seeing her plain, basic face. She looked almost unrecognizable. The next thing I knew, Katniss and the boy beside her were on fire - literally, and they were holding their hands up high into the air. The crowd was screaming and shouting ear piercing screeches for them, throwing roses and cheering, and after their glory was up the spotlight was put onto someone else. Prim was looking hopeful at the screen. I turned to look back at her mom to see that she still hasn't moved an inch. The twelve chariots all came to a halt, stopping right in front of the president's mansion. The audience was still screaming, even as the music died down. The President, Snow, I recall Katniss saying his name once, was a short man with a beer gut belly and a thin beard that needed to be shaved. The hair on top of his head was thin, almost balding. It was white as snow. Ironic, like his name. He began to give the official welcome from above the tributes, on what seemed like a balcony, what that the word?

Prim stopped stroking my fur. I looked up at her to see why, but rested my head back down on her lap when she began to pet me again. "Welcome," He greeted the screaming Capitol audience, to get their attention. They quieted down to listen to their leader. I wondered what would it be like if I was their leader... "Welcome. Tributes, we welcome you." He paused, almost as if waiting for something extravagant to happen. "We salute, your courage and your sacrifice." I hissed at the screen. He was a liar. A fake. "And we wish you, a happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour." He ended, and the Capitol citizens once again began to cheer and scream in excitement. It hurt my ears. The chariots rolled out back into where they came from, but not before seeing a close up on Katniss' face. Well wasn't she a star? She didn't look too happy, instead almost in deep angry thought about something. The camera zoomed out on the other tributes again after that. Then the anthem came on the screen, and the Capitol seal, and more of the two commentators fake laughing. I didn't like the Capitol's president. And if I was in Katniss' fire outfit, I would have rocked it. "Okay, Buttercup, let's give you a bath." Prim whispers, and I begrudgingly hop off her lap. Better now than ever. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CrocodileRocker "Snow is a hack!" "You're the one who lost to him." Plume looks up from his hand-held; his devious grin spans his freckled cheeks. It seems the only time he will say something is when it's something I wont like. "That just means I was honest- more so at least", I slide to the front of the pastel leathered sofa, my grubby hand flicks out at the screen, "but this is a new low, his assistants are duller than the train museum. Where did he get them-? "You went to the train museum?" The erie blue glow who synthetic light mutates his cocky face into something demonic.

"No", I stutter, distracted by the interruption, "well, yeah, but it was for some speech. I had to lie all day to act like I wasn't bored out of my mind." "I thought you were hon-" "Shut it." His face flickers dejected for an emotion-filled moment before he drowns in the that blue light. The silence comes just in time for the speech to start. The screen zooms to the President's face before panning across the two beige mannequins flanking him. The production is colorless and dull. "First, I would like to thank you all for the warm reception. You fans... You are really what makes this tradition a success. We couldn't do it without you." The screen flashes to the exuberant crowd. The exuberant purple-this year's color- mass squeals; their hand writhe towards the stage in adulation. "I would like to introduce to you our new head Gamemakers: Kieli and Selene." Snow introduces them to walk up; which they do. They beam. "They will make sure that nothing...goes wrong." The three of them look sheepishly around. I scrunch my face, "Something's up." Plume piques up with curiosity before he remembers his orders and dives back to introspection. I turn back to the screen. "Home about our tributes?!" The crowd's cheers turn to swoons as the boy from One-Cato; I think, is flashed onto a skyscraper behind the stage. His partner, Glimmer, is projected up on an adjacent building. The boy morphs into the one from Two. This is actually Cato, but who was the one boy? I grab for the E.S. guide section of the news. The pages are scattered with pictures of the reapings and tribute odds from the Capitol statisticians. The careers are unusually high, the boy from Eleven and the Girl from Twelve are just behind them. The Four boy is rubbish though, he's almost as low as the limp from Ten. I always liked Four. "I think these early districts are the strongest we've had for a long time...maybe ever!" The quip from Snow drags me from the paper and pulls me to the E.S. The crowd cheers in agreement and he smiles, high on success. "You can only make them better. Remember, they need your sponsor gifts to give them the edge in the arena. You all have the power to lead your favorites to glory. That goes for those of you watching at home too." Snow glares at the camera so that it seems he is staring right at me.

I scoff, "Yeah sure, i'll pay to finance your games while you give two percent towards the ridiculously overpriced gifts. For sure!" The tributes continue you to show themselves on the towers. They skip of the Four boy; that surprised no one; hopefully. "What tricks could Finch be hiding up her sleeves?" Snow asks rhetorically, his eyebrow raised with mystique. He looks like a clown. The crowd seems to like the fox, and her score is near the upper middle of the ranks. It actually makes me wonder how well she could do, what tricks she could pull. In fact, if it doesn't end up being a Career, my bet is on her. The next tribute is Thresh. He looks even more monstrous against the skyscraper. The only question I have is how smart is he, and if his reaping is anything to go by, the answer is: not very. He spoke in bursts of one or two short words. I don't even know how he will make it through an interview. He will probably be one of those once that a commercial break cuts in half. I am expecting Katniss to appear in Thresh's place but the projector is turned off. The crowd seems equally confused that the capitol wouldn't show boat the low district powerhouse. Normally people would eat tributes like her up. Even her partner isn't horrible, but they pointedly ignore District Twelve. The Gamemakers don't blink. Something is up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AnderaGNovak Elisabeth had high hopes for the After-Reaping party, seeing as it was her first year invited, courtesy of her mother's friends. She had gone all out with her outfit; sparkling gold wig, black and gold sequined dress, and more makeup than she had ever worn in her life. The overbearing smile on her face was real, made from excitement and a tinge of nervousness as she stood alone on the sidelines. Even as her mind told her she shouldn't have come, she couldn't help admiring everything she had missed before. Multi-coloured lights shone against the black and white skyscrapers, mingling with the faces of the tributes competing to be this years Victor. Fountains added a perfume-like smell to the air as they cascaded into their pools, the sound of water blocked out by the loud music that came from nowhere. The entire party seemed to be lights and colours and a million smells, it was overwhelming yet intoxicating, and Elisabeth didn't want to ever leave. She watched the large screen stretching across the President's manor as it replayed runes of past Games and favourite tributes dying or winning. Some of these moments happened when Elisabeth was far to young to watch, or remember, others were more recent, moments that she had voted on herself to be put up there for everyone had seen.

Yet she knew this was just to occupy everyone's time as the Presidential balcony was being prepared, which, from the excited din of everyone around her, she could tell it almost was. Abruptly, the Capitol music played- causing Elisabeth's heart to swell with pride- and heads all turned to where the President had now appeared, a small girl on either side. The large screen now projected the image of the three people, one that Elisabeth gazed at in confusion, the first thing her eyes taking in being the girls matching ornate robes. Elisabeth had been sure it was Seneca Crane that was the Head Game Maker this year, she had read all about it in the tabloids. Yet, standing in his robes where these girls, both appearing hardly older than Elisabeth herself, and although they seemed to be opposites in appearance, they held identical expressions of triumph, and scorn. President Snow raised his arms in a gesture of goodwill, lips curving into a smile that didn't reach his lips, as if he knew something the rest of the crowd didn't. The two girls exchanged glances, smiles breaking onto their faces as the President began to speak. "Welcome, citizens, to the opening of the 74th Hunger Games!" The roar that followed was deafening, and before she could stop herself, Elisabeth had thrown her hands over her ears rather than joined in the celebration stating the Games had officially started. This had been the moment she had been waiting for, and she had lost her opportunity. All these weeks of buildup for the opening, and now all she could do was hope there would be another moment needing a scream of enthusiasm. "It is on this day, we remember our brave defeat of the rebellion that tore through our glorious country years ago, and hope that nothing like it would... ever happen again. We also remember our past Victors, and hope that this years single Victor will be worthy of standing beside them. "This, is also where we say goodbye to our tradition of a single Head Game Maker, as, it has come to my attention from other sources this years Games are going to need the skills of both these girls." This time, Elisabeth cheered along, not caring that the President hadn't sounded as confident as usual. She put it all down to nerves of changing rules. "I'm sure no one here has heard of them, but without further ado, I welcome our Head Game Makers; Kieli, and Selene." The two girls stepped forward, nodding to the crowd, lips twisted into an undetermined expression. Citizens cheered, yet not quite as loudly as they would have, had the Head Game Maker been the one they had been expecting. Not only that, but these girls were complete mysteries; nobody knew who they were, or where in the Capitol they came from. "That is all," the President's voice finished, and the three people on the balcony turned and disappeared, a small bubble of silence remaining before the music started and voices and laughter began to drift through the air anew. Once again Elisabeth was left alone on the sidelines, watching the festivities. Her mind continued to go back to those girls, running though their faces again and again, as well as their names; they had been so flamboyant, the trends they were sporting not even close to anything Elisabeth had seen before.

It made Elisabeth think- although that itself was a dangerous pastime- about what the coming Games would be like. She felt now, after the speech was finished, that she had stood on the verge of history being rewritten, although where she got the idea she couldn't be sure. All she could be correct about was that these games would be different than what everyone had imagined, but whether or not that was a good thing, Elisabeth hadn't decided yet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ HeadOnJackwards Pass me the boom mic. A sharp click accompanies a hushed voice. This is testing, one, two. One, two audio levels appear to be normal I think my eyelash has fallen off, could someone please give me some light? At the woman's words, a small flicker of white, neutral light erupts from a mans camera. Four reasonably colourful people sit side by side in a small, dark and enclosed space. Two rather wide and tall men sit at the back, each cradling a large black camera. Cassius! By the power of all things pink, could we please hurry up! My hair is deflating and It is imperative that we are the first crew to arrive, how many times must I stress this? Magma Delora Glorass. Anyone living within the capitol will of course know of her name. Confident, eloquent and as beautiful as she is venomous. She will... HAS done anything she possibly can to get her face coverage on the main channel. Listen! Another woman snaps just after carefully placing her eyelashes back in place. Can you hear? The back of the small truck falls into silence. In the distance, the infamous voice of Ceaser Flickerman pounds through the metal of the truck. At the realisation of this sound, each member of Star-Watch film crew light up in anticipation. Here it is. Magma breathlessly gasps. Soak it all in Ladies and Gentlemen, for you may never see a sight like this again She smiles through her words. Although she's addressing her crew, her eyes cannot keep themselves from devouring the beauty that sits before them. Colours seep into the scene from all various directions. Distant fireworks add a beat to the scene as they burst in various shades and colours. People weave through each other with self indulgence forcing a smile upon the each of their pale faces. Each member of the Star-Watch film crew takes a moment to completely soak in the entirety of this event, never before have they been allowed to be somewhere so exclusive. There is only one other celebration like this within the year the end of the games themselves. Lets get to work.

For the rest of the night the crew run through the excited crowd, showing the most famous faces of all who are there. Ratchit Maquell, the lady of the Winter Collection. Plutarch Havensbee, Honey Shadows, Venelope Clearwater. Magma shortly interviews each of them before quickly moving to the next. Well never mind Seneca, darling. After all... theres always next year! Magma kisses Senecas cheek, and pushes him slightly from the camera. The sooner the coverage ends, the sooner she can enjoy the celebrations. Suddenly, the familiar and cold sound of the anthem bursts through the warmth of the party. At the sound of this, each guest immediately turns to face the balcony of the presidents manor. A place symmetrically in the centre of the large mansion, decorated with ribbons and banners each boasting the silver symbol of the Capitol. Two booming fireworks act as an end to the Anthem and an applause follows them in transition. It is then that the President appears from the darkness of his household. Magma's face lights up and she slaps Castor around the head and stands on his foot. If you don't get every last word that falls out that mans mouth I will personally see to it that you lose your tongue, yes? The cameraman swallows, barely able to look the fiery woman in the eyes. He stumbles around with his equipment and soon the lens of his recorder is trained perfectly on the mansion. Welcome, my dear friends and citizens. I thank you all for appearing here tonight, and for wanting to celebrate the opening of these Games. President Snow's warm smile becomes serious and stern. Years ago... The president continues our country was stained in blood and our peace was fractured. Forgiveness, is an expensive thing. It is something that can only be required through sacrifice. And so this is why we can forgive our Districts For it is they that offer us our contestants. The warm smile creeps its way back onto his cold face. The Hunger Games represents the harmony that has bloomed from the ashes of a once broken nation. Now, let these games be as grand as any and let them, like they have year after year, heal our wounds as a nation, as a united land and as people of humanity. Enjoy the party... and may the odds be ever in your favor. Well! You've seen it here first ladies and gentlemen! This is where it all starts. This is your very own capitol sweetheart, Magma Glorass signing off once more. Until next time my darlings! Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.

As the last fire work explodes in the shimmering night sky, twelve trains glide through the dark landscape of Panem. The people of the capitol celebrate tonight but in the districts, there will be only weeping. Weeping for the children that may never return. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TheDarkHorse
Turn that off this very instant! Miriam hissed, interrupting the announcers going over the odds of the tributes. You're going to wake the baby. Besides, you know how much I hate the Games anyway. They're just now going over the odds! I argued, turning the subtitles on the TV so that I could read them and listen to Miriam at the same time. You could never say that I didn't care about what my beautiful wife had to say, just that I cared about other things a little bit more sometimes. They're just to District Three now, and I won't miss the girls from Four, Five or Twelve or the boy from Eleven. I need to know who to bet on now! Right now I'm leaning towards the girl from Two. She looks like she'll do anything to... I really don't care about the Games, Ardor. What I care about is that the baby needs to sleep. If she doesn't sleep, than she'll be up all night and I won't be able to make my skin-dying appointment tomorrow morning. And why are you getting your skin dyed? I asked stubbornly, turning back to the TV to read the information about the boy from Three. Fourteen years old, average height and weight, high IQ, charismatic. I made a mental note for him. If he survives the Bloodbath, he'll probably make the top eight. That's besides the point! Miriam said. Her voice was slowly rising to a forced whisper. The point is that you're implying that the Hunger Games is more important than your own wife and your own daughter! It switched to the girl from Three, and I looked away. She and the boy from Four didn't stand a chance. They were both too young to win. I turned away from the television, muted it, and looked at Miriam straight in the eyes. I love you honey, and the Hunger Games are not go ing to change that. It's just two or three weeks that I'll be doing this. I can even watch the baby all day starting a week from now. I'll be here at the house watching the Games anyway. Are you insane? Miriam asked, her voice about to crack. I don't want my daughter exposed to that sort of violence at this age! We can't have her going around thinking it's OK to kill people, not if they're from the Capitol anyway! My child will not watch the Hunger Games until they're old enough to learn the difference between District citizen and Capitol citizen. The two of us sat in near silence for a minute. Neither of us were really sure of what to say. Miriam had gotten her point across, and I knew it was pointless to argue with her anymore. I thought of the Interviews in the Games. Whenever a tribute couldn't quite get their angle right they always resorted to flattery. It was worth a shot. After all, the boy from Four was up now and I did not want to miss his District Partner. "For what it's worth, I think you look beautiful without dying your skin another color." In all honesty, her skin was the loveliest shade of pea green I'd ever seen. I just hadn't seen that many shades of pea green.

"Oh sweetie, you're so silly sometimes." Miriam laughed. Score! She wasn't pissed anymore. "You're so obsessed with the Games that you don't even pay attention to fashion. Green is on its way out. It's just not a very creative color. Midnight blue is on its way in. Trust me on these things." I turned back to the TV. They were showing the girl from Four getting reaped. Now that I was looking at her more closely, I saw that she was just an average Career. I could watch her later on in the Games. After all, I didn't make my predictions for the top eight until immediately after the Bloodbath. I used to do it before, but then two or three of the tributes I bet on died during the Bloodbath, and that was not cool. Miriam made some sort of comment, allowing me to watch the After-Reaping party and then left. The pairs from Five and Six both went by in a flash. Both from Five seemed like they stood a chance, although I wouldn't bet on the girl winning. Both from Six seemed fairly average. The boy might do well if he survived the Bloodbath, but my thoughts quickly went to another place as the next segment was shown. Now they showed a clip of another Games. For some reason the Capitol was included in these Games, and I loved them. Of course, I was just beyond Reaping age so I wouldn't have gotten to participate, but it was fun to watch someone from the Capitol kick everyone's asses. It was down to just the boy from Eleven, who had a particularly interesting back story, the girl from One who was seeming to have her doubts as a Career, and the girl from the Capitol who, of course, was destroying everyone in the Games. The three of them convened on the Cornucopia, a huge playground in a water park this year, and fought viciously. I still found myself rooting for the pathetic not-quite-Career from One to be stabbed in the back, even though I knew it wouldn't happen. Gloria eventually came out on top, and in the background they played her new hit single. It was glorious. Both from Seven and Eight seemed particularly strong this year, and I grinned. Nobody in my group ever would pay attention to them. They would do what they always did, bet on the six Careers and the two tributes they liked they most. This year I could see it being the volunteer from Twelve and the oxlike boy from Eleven. The pair from District Nine came and went very quickly. Nobody cared about Nine anymore. Almost all their tributes were Bloodbath. The only District worse than them was District Twelve, and at least this year they had a chance. They showed a recap of another Games,, Finnick Odair's Games to be exact. People used to joke that Miriam's baby was actually Finnick Odair's and not mine. They stopped teasing me when they realized I didn't care. It would be an honor to raise Finnick Odair's child. He was so hot and bloodthirsty, it was amazing. In his Games, eighteen tributes died in the Bloodbath. I think it was some sort of record, especially since five of those tributes were Careers. Finnick finished everyone else off in no time at all.It was really a thing of beauty. District Ten passed in a blur, everyone was just waiting for the President's speech now anyway. If you wanted to bet you had to watch it. It was the stupidest rule ever, but I could typically get through it with a few drinks. I stood up to make a drink for myself, ignoring the pairs from Eleven and Twelve. They were good, but everyone knew they stood a chance and that made it boring. I doubted the girl from Eleven would even go into the Bloodbath. I poured some wine into a glass, and sat down in front of the TV. President Snow was drinking some champagne like he always did, and was flanked by two girls who, although young, were quite beautiful. If they were in the Games, I would bet on them. There was something off about them though. It seemed like they knew even less about today's fashion than I did. "Today we celebrate the Seventy Fourth Annual Hunger Games." Snow announced. His face puckered up as the crowd applauded for him. It looked like he was drinking some red wine now, like I was drinking. Maybe the drink was already playing tricks on me. "Today we remember the brave sacrifice that soldiers from the Capitol made seventy five years ago, when the Districts rose against

the Capitol. District Two was awarded for not participating, and District Thirteen was utterly destroyed for leading the rebellion." Now I remembered why I hated listening to the speech. It was almost the same thing every single year. They reminded us of the rebellion, that nobody really cared about anymore, then he introduced the Gamemakers, then he said something about the Games. The last bit was all I really cared about. "This year we have two Head Gamemakers, both lovely young girls whom I endorsed personally." Snow said, nodding towards the girls at either side of him. I laughed as I realized exactly how the girls probably got him to endorse them. "Selene Flint and Kieli Steel are both incredibly talented, and they say they think they already know how these Games will go. In fact, they were talented enough to dethrone Seneca Crane without getting him killed!" I laughed at Snow's joke. Every Head Gamemaker got killed once their jobs were over with. The poor girls probably wouldn't live to be twenty! "All I can say is that these Games will be like nothing you've ever seen before. You'll have to be ready for quite a few surprises. Now, eat, drink, be merry, and be ready for the greatest Games yet to begin!" What the hell? That was all I got about the Games this year. I almost threw my glass at the floor, before remembering that the baby would wake up and Miriam would yell at me. Damn. I needed another drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Falluous President Snow took his rightful place behind the podium, ready to address the 74th Annual Hunger Games and its contestants. He looked out among the crowd of citizens, the rainbow of hair colors brightening under the neon lights of the city. Snow gave a warm smile, but he wasn't the least bit impressed by what most of the citizens were. He knew he would have to hold the girl from District 12 in high regard so that the Capitol could enjoy watching her throughout the Hunger Games, but he didn't share in the excitement to watch her live. He'd rather watch her die. Welcome to the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Today, President Snow says, the twelve districts of Panem have offered to us their tributes. Ranging from the ages of twelve to eighteen, the districts have given us a very interesting group. We have the usual volunteers from the higher districts, whom I'm impressed with. There are a lot of kids, young and old, this year whom I could recognize, but the one that you all have, I have noticed, too. The volunteer from District 12. She's one of the first. We see countless volunteers, but one from 12 is something that is shocking. Perhaps she shall entertain us during her time in the arena. We must not forget, victors are made regardless of volunteering or by being reaped. We must not forget the other valiant tributes, and we will enjoy this year's Hunger Games. Victors are made before the gong rings, and losers are made after the cannons blow. I truly believe that this year, like every other, will not hold in store any surprises for us. The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 have the idea of being victors imbedded into their brain from birth. Will their confidence perturb into cockiness? Or will they shine bright, and earn their crown? Or will we all be surprised, and see a win from an outlying district? I do not believe in miracles, but I'm sure the tributes are asking for one right now. We will all have an amazing year. Perhaps, better than the last. These tributes have all come so far in their lives, and now they get to represent everything they've been working on since their birth on the finest stage, the arena. They will fight for survival, and find out if they're worth it. He turns from the podium as the Capitol citizens roar in approval. The large buildings and their neon lights suddenly become bright again as the spotlights on the podium turn off. A train's

horn pierces the roaring, and all goes quiet. Once the citizens recognize that the first tributes have arrived, they rush to leave the park, running toward the Tribute Tower. President Snow sighs. He wants to believe that the boy from 2 will let the other tributes know their place, but he knows that its not what the Capitol wants this year. They don't want a ruthless gladiator, but a vigilante. This girl, who saved her sister, is going to be held highly in the minds of the citizens, the sponsors. He has yet to know if she will be a problem, but if this problem rises, he'll do with it what he does to the rest. Eliminate it. He truly hopes that the right tributes will win this year. President Snow would like to save any and all surprises for the Quarter Quell next year. As he climbs down a long staircase, he is greeted by one of his assistants, Aurelia. She hands him a cup filled with water. Snow smiles, a silent thank you. You looked a bit parched, she notes. Truly, he responds. So far, Aurelia speaks, it looks like the most likeable tribute will be either a District 1, 2, or 4 tribute. Sponsors are already lining up to see them. That's good news. I want to keep the wolves away from the sheep for now. Make those tributes look better. We can't have an upset year again. Last year, when the boy from 10 beat the girl from 1, ratings were awful. Yes, sir. I'll try my best to get extra attention on them, Aurelia nods. Aurelia? Snow beckons. Yes, sir? Don't disappoint. Ye-yes, President Snow, she nervously croaks, knowing what he's implying. She quickens her pace as the staircase ends, and rushes down a sidewalk, ahead of Snow. Snow sighs and tosses the empty plastic cup into a trashcan. He waits as a limousine pulls up, and gets inside of it. Where are you headed now? Cassius, the chauffeur, asks. Take me home, Cassius. I have things to prepare for. Right away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FlamingEmbers You enter the square quietly, unnoticed by the many people surrounding you, their faces plastered with overwhelmed grins. It's extremely loud - in fact, loud is an understatement. The sound roars up from the crowd, the noise is deafening, probably heard from miles and miles away. The square seems tiny, minuscule even, compared to the enormous number of Capitol civilians crammed into its boundaries. There are crowds laughing and chattering on about things that aren't relevant and would bore you or me - clothes, make-up, the latest and most stylish hairstyles... There are children, Capitol children, dressed in brightly coloured, dazzling clothes decorated with sequins and glittering fabrics playing tag and reacting recent hunger games performances. There are swarms of gathering people intrigued to watch two ladies argue over which of the tributes is better, the district 2 girl or the district 12 one. Most route for the district 2 female, considering how many victors her district has achieved over the past years of the games.

One of the children whom was being chased by another child wielding an imaginary sword tumbles to the ground. He looks down at himself and notices what damage has been done to his petite hands and knees he begins to cry, though his wailing is drown out by the noise of the swarm of people around him. His mother, wearing ridiculously high heels and a floppy crimson feather hat, rushes over as quickly and best she can and gingerly scoops him up off the stone tiling. 'My poor little baby!' she says, stroking his fair hair and cradling him in her arms as he weeps into her cream blouse. Not only his mother, but other people come and attempt to try and comfort the woman's little boy. Backstage the Capitol's beloved President, Mr Coriolanus Snow, sits in a pristine white armchair while he is smothered in makeup. Still, it makes no difference to his old, wrinkled face. 'Mr Snow, you're going on in a minute.' Mr Alsona says, gesturing with his hand to the stage. Snow nods and shoos the makeup artists away, they file off happily enough. Back in the square, people watch in awe as flames light up the sky. A group of shirtless men stand on the stage in nothing but dull grey trousers, blowing fire into the rows of people and watching the citizens recoil in fear as they do so. An odd choice of entertainment, that's for sure. One of the men holds two golden poles, each with two small gold cups at either end. These cups are lit on fire. He throws both of the poles into the air, and as they spin above the crowd, the orange amber light of the fire is beautiful. As the poles fall, the man quickly snatches them out of the air and blows them out in a single breath. An outbreak of applause is heard. Suddenly, the men disperse off the stage and all goes silent, nothing can be heard but faint shuffling from the crowds and few whispers, sending tense vibes running through the crowd as Snow strolls onto the specially polished black stage. He's welcomed by a round of applause. 'Hello, citizens of the Capitol!' he bellows. Everyone cheers, until he clears his throat to continue. "Years ago, there was what we have declared to be our dark days in time. When the 13 districts rose against the city that cared for them, that loved them! We fought back, putting them in their rightful places. Once that terrible war was over, we removed the 13th district in order to show the other 12 how they could easily become desolated, just like their neighbouring district, and created what we call 'The Treaty Of Treason'! Ever since then, every year, there have been a spectacular event of honour and glory known as The Hunger Games. This year, we welcome the tributes of our 74th Annual Hunger Games, and what brilliant tributes they are!" he gives a toothy grin, much to the oblivious citizens' delight. Then, ever so smoothly, he leaves the stage and disappears behind the screen. 'You were brilliant!' Mr Alsona smiles. Again, Coriolanus just nods and walks away, his hands interlocked behind his back. 'I know...' ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ hashtagging The lights dangle from the ceiling, emitting an eery glow. The atmosphere is calm, as people decked out in colourful fashions nibble on the wide variety of canapes and drinks on offer. People dance and chat, flitting around the room as they please. I huddle in the corner, poised with a drink in my hand so people do not assume I am an outsider.

"My bet is on the beauty from One," a man comments, striding past with his friend who raises an eyebrow at this preposterous suggestion. "You would," the friend retorts. "You're all about the looks, aren't you? I bet the girl from Two can throw a punch or two." "Nah, she's all talk. Have you seen how short she is?" the first man replies, and they keep walking, still deep in conversation about which of this years females Careers has made a better impression. It sickens me how people attend this party, and feel that is acceptable to discuss children like they are common household muck. They place bets on them, and use them as their own entertainment. I live amongst monsters. Even the people who style the tributes get fully into the festivities, having too much to drink and ignoring the fact that they have signed up for a job that sends children to their death. I watch with slight horror, as a stylist for District Seven attempts to shuffle her way around the floor, her arms flailing as she struggles to balance a drink in each hand and remain on her feet. She abandons her attempt after a while, dumping the drinks on an empty table and seizing another stylist by the shoulder, forcing him to dance with her. As the minutes pass by, I stand and watch everyone enjoying the festivities, until it feels as if I cannot take it anymore. I turn my attention to the tributes, their innocent faces projected out onto skyscrapers. The cocky smirk of the boy from District Two stares back at me - the perfect representation of what they want. My eyes fall on the little girl from District Eleven. She must barely be hitting reaping age, yet in a few days she will be dead. And I will fire the cannon. To this day, I don't know why I signed up for it. I needed the money, my parents were refusing to pay for my clothing. So, I decided I would go and work as a Gamemaker. After all, I always loved games. At first it didn't seem that bad, people were welcoming and friendly. They told me I would fit in just fine, and until they could find a replacement I was in charge of firing off the cannons. I didn't think much of it at the time. It seemed like easy money, and all I had to do was fire a cannon every so often. Wrong. I watched child after child, on the verge of dying where I was forced to sit through their gruesome fights and watch their pain before firing the cannon. Although I can never admit it, it crushed me - and still does. But I refuse to regret accepting the job. It made me realise the monstrous world we live in. I see now that the Games are not to be taken lightly, they warned us all along but I have finally decided to listen. "Oh hello there Miss Aldwin," a voice interrupts, breaking my thought train. I glance upwards to see none other than President Snow himself.

"President," I greet, giving a polite nod. "I must say, this is a wonderful gathering you have thrown. Such a pleasure to be invited once again." The words do not sound as if they are coming from my own mouth, but the corners of his mouth twitch, a sign that if he liked smiling he'd consider giving me a smile now. "That is good to hear," he responds, and then glances over his shoulder as if he has just remembered the two girls hovering behind him. "Oh, where are my manners? This is Miss Zea Aldwin, she works in the Gamemaker control room." "Oh really?" asks the one to his right, "I look forwards to working with you." "Oh yes," I choke out, forcing myself to beam at them. "It's such an honour to speak with you, I look forwards to hearing of your ideas. I am sure they will be wonderful." "So are we," speaks the one to his left, and then lets out a suspicious giggle. "Well, we must be going, my speech is going to begin soon. I assume you will be watching from the crowd, Miss Aldwin?" President Snow informs me. "Of course," I answer, "I wouldn't miss it." The corners of his mouth twitch once more, and then all three Gamemakers turn their backs on me and walk away, the sadistic grins shining across their faces. I let out a sigh, placing my glass down on the table and heading over to where a crowd of many of my fellow Gamemakers stand. Selah who works at the weather station shoots me a reassuring look, pressing a drink into my hand and informing me that people have been asking about me. "I'm so glad you arrived," Selah exclaims, "Wouldn't want to miss the speech would we?" "No, of course not!" I titter, letting out a shrill laugh. Many of the people surrounding me join in, and a chorus of laughter erupts across the room. Within seconds it is silent. President Snow stands above us, resting the palms of his hands on the balcony. His eyebrows are raised, a sign that he is ready to begin his speech. The two girls from before stand behind him, the sadistic grins impossible to miss. All three stand still, before President Snow lets out a cough, and raises his arms. Every voice in the room falls silent. I watch the delight linger in his eyes, as he watches everyone turn towards him and fall into an anxious silence. How he can enjoy people being afraid of him, I will never know. Yet, I am powerless as I stand beneath him, listening to the words I dread most of all. "Welcome, citizens, to the opening of the 74th Hunger Games!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~