The 14 Hunger Games

• Marley Wilson, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2019

I look up and all I see is darkness. My mother was still asleep and my little sister also. Lying in her crib, still, not knowing that today was the day of the reaping. Every year one girl and one boy are picked from each district to compete in something called the Hunger Games.

I live in district 2 the career district, the district where kids dream of getting in because of the luxury you’re given if you become the only one out of 24 kids to survive. But I’m not one to dream this. Every year there are 23 mothers missing a child and I didn’t want mine in that position. At school every day, 9:00am to 3:00pm, we train to win. Punching, kicking, knife throwing and climbing. These are only some of the things we spend our day doing. My father won a few years back so I don’t need to go in again but I’m forced to. Each district has a talent, like district 1 is luxury and district 12 is mining. But in my district, district 2, our talent is for storing the capitals military. I’m only 12 and female so that means that I’m not allowed to be in the military. I grab my hunting coat, hat and boots and headed out the door. We have all the food we could ever wish for in the victors village but nothing tastes as good as freshly hunted meat.

That day I caught nothing, this usually happens when I’m nervous which is forgivable as it was the first year that I would go to the reaping. Once I got home I slipped on my dress and my ballet flats and headed for the stadium. When I got there my heart was pounding so hard that I had to sit down on a rocky bench. As I stood up and went over towards the stadium grounds all that I could hear was a loud roar of hatred coming from the crowd. Anger roared as loud as thunder as Glenda, who is my districts escort, walked up the hard wooden stairs in a selfish stride. As she reached inside of the sturdy glass fish ball, carefully picking a folded piece of paper “ladies first.” She said it in a rude tone. Her smile made me hate her even more. Then without hesitation read out ‘Okely Algemil.’ My heart sank as that name belonged to me.