The Very First Hunger Games

Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Announcement 

I am awoken by the sound of the capitol anthem blaring on the television in the next room. It must be a Capitol announcement. I force my aching bones to drag myself out of bed. I am exhausted. I have been helping my neighbors rebuild District 12 for the last couple of days. It has not been an easy task rebuilding District 12. Being one of the poorer districts, District 12 was more vulnerable during the rebellion that shook the nation of Panem. Hundreds of bombing attacks meant thousands of innocent lives lost, some of those children. Sometimes I still can't believe I live in a world where these sick, twisted things happen.

 I walk through to the front room where my family is sitting watching our old television set, looking quite worried. My father and my sister, Laurel sits on our old and tattered sofa, while my mother is perched on the windowsill. I don't even know how we are all related. My mother and I have fair hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin whereas my father and Laurel have dark hair and grey eyes. My mother and I just look so out of place in District 12 but my father and sister fit right in.

"It's not over." Laurel says blankly.

"What isn't?" I ask.

"The war," Laurel says. "Do you really think the Capitol is just going to let us get away with rebelling?"

"What do you mean, let us get away with it?" I say, raising my voice. "The districts were defeated and thirteen was totally obliterated!"  

I would have gone on to prove my point but something on the television caught my attention. Many young children sitting at home watching their TVs right now may not recognize or remember our president as he makes very few televised appearances, but I do.  Who could forget those venomous snake eyes that could only be President Snow?

President Snow walks over towards a podium, and then pulls something out of his coat. A camera close up reveals it to be a letter with the inscription "The Treaty of Treason" on the front.

The Treaty of Treason? Of course, we the Districts betrayed the Capitol with our rebellion and now we must be punished. The question is punished how? How crueler can the Capitol get? I guess I'll find out soon.

President Snow licks his lips and opens the sealed letter. My body goes tense and I can hardly catch my breath as I wait expectantly for the impending doom that is sure to arise soon. It feels as though there is a cotton ball lodged in my throat refusing to let me speak. President Snow starts to read from The Treaty of Treason:

"There once was a place called North America. But droughts, fires, hurricanes, tornadoes, and encroaching seas took their toll. Brutal wars broke out as people fought for the few remaining resources. The earth was scarred and desolate; the people, terrified and hopeless.

But out of the ashes rose Panem; a nation made of a great Capitol ringed by 13 districts which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens for many generations.

Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. The shining light of our nation was clouded by war. Terrible war.

The 13 districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Their revolt left the country in tatters. Motherless children filled the streets. The land torn asunder. 

After a long struggle in which many died, there came a hard-won peace. Twelve districts were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. When the traitors were at last suppressed, we swore we would never allow such treason. 

Thus the Treaty of Treason was written and signed, providing us with new laws to live by, laws that would guarantee peace.

As a yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never happen again, it was decreed that on the same day each year the districts must offer up as tributes one courageous young man and woman between the ages of twelve and eighteen to fight in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as the Hunger Games.

The twenty-four tributes are to be sent to an outdoor arena where they struggle to overcome both man and nature and triumph over the odds.

Each year, the lone victor serves as a reminder of the Capitol's generosity and forgiveness.

This season is a time for repentance and a time for thanks.

This is how we remember our past.

This is how we safeguard our future".

I stare at the television for what feels like an eternity. Nobody moves, nobody speaks. This cannot be happening. It has to be a joke. Please let it be a joke. What kind of government would force children to fight to the death, probably for their own entertainment?

Then realization hits me, I'm fifteen therefore I could be one of the tributes fighting to the death in the arena. I could die in the arena. My sister could too.