User blog:ILovePeeta00/Hunger Games fan fic.

( you all know about the Capitol and Panem and the Games so i'm not going to explain all of that )


 * = note: This is after Katniss' games, but i'm pretending Katniss never existed.

Chapter 1

Zaharia woke up and yawned, the new day dawning on her. The smell of seaweed and saltwater drifted through the window, and a few moments of bliss were granted until her brother charged into the room.

Struggling not to slip back into her plesamt dreams, Zaharia sat up, smoothed her silky black hair back, and adressed her younger brother. "What is it Brat?" her younger brouther pouted. "Mom said you have to call me by my real name." he protested, coal black eyes hard. "Fine. Braxton." Zaharia sighed. "What is it?" she repeated, greatly annoyed. "Mom wants you." Braxton replied simply. "Leave so i can get dressed Brat." Zaharia commanded. Her sibling pouted, but ran out of the room.

Zaharia rummaged through her closet, and pulled out a swin shirt and "fish pants". The fish pants were glossed, slick material pants that would allow the wearer to speed through the water. They were supposed to just be "water attire", but after Zaharia frequently came home in them smelling like fish, Braxton took to calling them by their present name.

In district 4, Zaharia had grown used to luxury. They were a wealthy district, known for fishing and their excellent swimmers. Zaharia's family was extremely wealthy, and had never known how to "want". Things just came to them. Zaharia and her five sisters, 1 brother, and parents, made up an enourmous family, with Zaharia the eldest child. But they were raised on a steady diet of seafood. Lots, and lost of seafood. Their mansion was situated on a river, so there was no shortage of fish, shrimp, crabs, and other varieties. The wealthier part of the district was planted along rivers, with others farther away.

Zaharia marched towards the restroom so she could freshen herself up. She was naturally beautiful, but her face was marred with exhaustion from the early awakening. She took a brief shower, and combed her long, glossy black hair into a high ponytail. She put powder on her face and applied makeup until her face was radiant, glowing. Today, she had to look fantastic. Zaharia didn't believe in the dyed skin and ridiculous hair stlyes of the Capitol, but she did have to keep up with her commanding mother's standards.

After she was dressed and refreshed, she pulled on the combat boots she wore when she wasn't fishing, and slung a pack over her shoulder. Finally, she was out the door and emerging into the kitchen where the whole family sat, looking grave. Even her father's handsome face looked unnerved. But it was gone as soon as it came, and then the whole family was laughing and talking merrily as Zaharia took her place at the breakfast table.

"Seems too good weather for such a grim occasion." her father was saying with a smile. The other 8 members of the table laughed in agreement. "Yes. On that note, i would like to say something." Her mother piped up. Everyone quieted down, and Zaharia sensed the topic at hand.

Reaping day. Even with their family of 9 children, no one had ever gotten picked for the games. District 4 had a large population, with some familes even larger than Zaharia's. Her brother was 12, his first year in the Reaping. The sisters went age 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, and finally Zaharia at age 18. Her mother had a child every year, until she was too old to. It was Zaharia's last year in the Reaping. And even after years and years of good luck, her mother always gave the same speech before the Reaping.

"Our family has had extraordinary luck when it comes to the Games. No one had gotten picked, but that doesn't mean this year wont change," She knocked 3 times on the wooden kitchen door. Zaharia's mother was very superstitious. "I want you all to know that if you do get Reaped (she knocked again on the wood) then years of luck are behind you.." As she rambled on, the whole family mouthed the words silently. They had memorized the speech, right down to the last words. "..and may the odds ever be in your favor." she concluded, and sat down. They all clapped, most children mockingly.

"Now i want you all to get dressed in your nicest clothes. We must look presentable!" Braxton pouted. "But we just got dressed..." the young boy protested. Zaharia chuckled under her breath. No one had told Braxton the family preparations for the games. Her mother gave the eldest a stare, and replied to Braxton. "No ifs ands or buts. Get dressed. Ladeshia will attend to you." Ladeshia was a family servant, there with the Polen family for years. She was an Avox, though no one knew the crime she had commited to earn her a lost tongue and servitude, not even Zaharia's parents. Ladeshia stood up and silently followed Braxton into his room to pick an outfit for him. Even her father eventually left to his room, for he would be staying behind, watching the television screen to view the Reaping. The parents were required to stay at home.

Finally, all the other children dispersed, followed by a family servant to attend to them. Just Zaharia and her mother remained. Her mother regarded her with a cold expression. "Come. I will attend to you." she nodded dismissively at the last servant, and she started to clean up after the meal when Zaharia and her mother left.

They entered her bedroom, and flocked immediatley to her closet. Maybelle rummaged through the closet, but evidently found nothing that suited what she wanted her eldest to wear. "We shall have Micra, our seamstress, come in and create you a dress." She reached for the dresser than stood next to her bed, and moved it aside. There hung many bells, and Maybelle reached for the one marked "Micra". No sooner had it rung then the family seamstress rushed into the door, carrying a mound of fabrics, sheets, and many other materials. Maybelle shot a glance at her daughter, silently dismissing her. Zaharia left the room, but she did not have to wait long. She was ushered back into the room by Micra, who told her to hurry and put on her new dress.

It was a fancy dress, but had a certain cimplicity. It was sea green, and had strategic folds that appeared to give the dress waves. It was attached to a necklace laced with pearls. But other than that, it was simple enough. Micra placed the mini-dress in Zaharia's arms. "We wanted to make it nice, but not too upstaging. If you do get picked (Maybelle knocked on the wooden door), we dont want your styling team to have a difficult time creating a more stunning look." she explained.

The rest was a fair blur. She had dressed up, put on shoes. She marched out the door, leading all her siblings as shutters on doors closed shut, unwilling to admit visitors. They marched through the streets in their dressed up attire until arriving at the Square. It was a large center, adorned with large glowing signs and towering buildings advertising the Capitol and the glory of Panem. Happy slogans and propoganda glared down at the enourmous crowd gathered in the Square. It made Zaharia want to throw up her breakfast, it was so fake.

To make things worse, there was a large podium and an even larger screen abovit displaying the 82nd* hunger games. "Like we need a reminder." grumbled Dasha, her 15 year old sister. Zaharia shot a glance at her, plainly telling her to be quiet before anyone heard her. After a brief, but anxious wait, the boys and girls were seperated into two different crowds, and a man in bright green hair and a matching neon suit stepped onto the podium. Maximus Plenituve. Year after year after year, his surgically altered face appeared in the districts to announce the names of the tributes to enter the Hunger Games. Zaharia watched Braxton retreat in horror and his face.

"Well. Let's get down to buisiness." His enhanced voice boomed through the microphone. "Men first." he murmered, without emotion. He reached into the glass bowl with the boy's names, and selected a slip of paper. Zaharia and her sisters held their breath and prayed Braxton would not get picked on his first year...

"Villiane Magen!" As the name was announced, Zaharia and her siblings breathed a sigh of relief. But they puzzled. Who was this mysterious boy, aged 18, who would be tossed into the arena? But it was common in District 4 for families to not know each other. Because of the increasing population, families were moved farther and farther apart from each other. Families often grew up miles away from another family, and could go their entire lives without ever knowing they existed.

Villiane was certainly handsome, no doubt about that. He was unnaturally pale, but had hair as black as midnight and dark blue eyes. He stepped up to the podium, and sat down where Maximus showed him. He stared emotionless at the crowd as Maximus called for volunteers. No one stepped up. Zaharia wondered if his parents and family were crying at home for him, weeping endless tears, knowing he might not come back to them, or even if he had any family to return to.

Then it was time for the girl tribute. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, Zaharia included, as Maximus reached into the girl's glass bowl and retrieved a slip of paper. With a sigh, he read out the name of the "lucky" girl who would be joining Villiane in certain death.

"Zaharia Polen!"



END OF CHAPTER 1

Please share your thoughts, i would love some feedback! Thanks!