All rights reserved to Suzanne Collins; I do not own the Hunger Games. Unfortunately. So the idea just came to me, and I really hope that the story doesn't turn out too bad. Please review and let me know what you think!

I sat there, in my rough wooden chair, watching my favorite show on the battered, old television in our sitting room. I was finally starting to relax in my new life in District 12, finally starting to forget the painful trials I had undergone in order to get up to this point. Then it happened. My show was interrupted by a shot of a clean, spotless, white wall background. A man, a news reporter from the Capitol, said, "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you live footage from District 13, shot from aerial news planes. Let this footage serve as a warning to the remaining 12 Districts…"

The screen moved to a shot of District 13. The camera shifted around, taking in the panic on people's faces, the ransacked buildings that were being demolished, and the overall chaos that was occurring. The nuclear bombs started falling from the overhead warplanes. I began saying to myself, "No, no, no, no…"

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen as innocent people were vaporized right in front of my eyes. Because I just knew, one of those people was my mother…

I wake up and sit up, gasping. I notice I'm sweating. So, it was just a dream. A nightmare, really. A nightmare that has been occurring a little too often for my liking as of late. A figure appears in the doorway to my small bedroom.

"Everything alright, Corr, buddy? I heard you talking in here," says my uncle, Dane. He looks at me with those big, worried eyes of his. He knows the general idea of what's been keeping me awake at nights.

"I'm fine," I reply. "You don't have to worry about me. Go back to sleep."

He laughs. "Well actually, it's morning. Time to get up and go to school."

I groan. "Ok, I'm coming. What's for breakfast?"

"Grits," he says. "Hurry before it gets cold."

I get up and dress quickly. I go to the kitchen, where I grab some breakfast and scarf it down quickly. I guess I'm pretty hungry. As I sit at the table that is missing a base of one leg and eat, my thoughts dwell on the nightmare that I experienced. No matter what I do, it always seems to come back to haunt me…

My reflective thoughts are interrupted by my younger cousin of ten years entering the kitchen. I playfully grab him in a headlock, ruffle his wild, unruly hair, and say, "Well, Aden, looks like you finally decided to get up!"

He struggles against me (to no avail) and goes, "Ow! Quit it, Corran! I'm hungry! I want some food!"

Just then, I hear my uncle's voice from the sitting room, "Corran. Come in here. I want you to see this; it concerns you." He sounds serious. Something about the terse tone in his voice makes me instantly release Aden and go into where he is.

He points at the old television. "Look at the news."

The TV is showing the national news. The Capitol reporter, a thoroughly pierced man with blue hair is saying "…as a result of the uprising against the Capitol by the thirteen Districts of Panem, the Capitol has instituted the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games will be a mandatory contest between twenty-four tributes, two from each remaining District, one boy and one girl each. The ages of the competitors will range from twelve to eighteen. The twenty four will compete to kill each other in a vast outdoor arena, with only one remaining victorious. More details to follow."

Uncle Dane shuts off the TV. His face looks haggard and worn as he says to me, "Well, what do think of that?"

"It's awful," I say. "Taking kids from each District and forcing them to kill each other in a bloody fight to the death? Only the Capitol would think of something that cruel."

Uncle Dane muses, "It certainly does send a message: We won't kill you; we'll kill your children. And it's all because of the rebellion. You know, the memories of your parents deserve better than this."

I do know. My father was a decorated general who fought for the rebels during the war. He was presumably killed when the Capitol bombed the camp he was commanding, which was situated at the base of the Capitol's mountains. As for my mother…

A hovercraft landed in the middle of the town square. A crowd of people surrounded it, all with the same look of desperation and determination. The hovercraft pilot shouted out, "I've got room for twenty!"

My mother and I fought to make our way to the front of the crowd. Or more accurately, mob. People recognized us as the family of one of their most commended generals, and let us through. But by the time we reached the craft, there was only room for one more. My mother pushed me onto the cramped craft and said to me, "Go."

"Not without you, mom! Not without you!" I screamed.

She looked at me with sadness written in every feature of her body and said, "I'll take the next one, sweetheart. I promise. I love you."

Little did I know that there was not going to be another one. This was to be the last hovercraft in the mass exodus of District 13 before it was reduced to rubble. So I agreed to my mother's request. And I watched helplessly as the craft lifted off and flew away, watched as her face changed of one full of hope for me, to one utterly devoid of hope for herself…

I'm shaken out of my painful reverie by Aden saying, "Come on, big cuz. Time to go to school!"

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah, let's go."

~/~/~/~/~/

In the schoolyard, before classes were scheduled to start, I meet up with my group of friends. "Did you hear the news about the Hunger Games?" I ask them.

My friend Mereel goes, "Yeah. Sounds horrible."

His twin sister, Etain, says, "Totally! How awful! I also heard that they will be selecting these tributes at gatherings called Lotteries. How it will work is, twelve-year olds will have one entry, thirteen-year olds will have two, and so on. They put your names on paper slips into these giant glass balls, one for the boys, and one for the girls. If your paper slip is chosen…well…that's it."

Just then, the school bell rings out. We all give each other a final, meaningful look, and head inside.

The day passes quickly for me. I'm pretty much in a daze, thinking about the morning's news and what it could mean. At the end of the day, I meet up with my closest friend Milla in the schoolyard. She's like a sister to me, I know her so well. She made the journey with me from District 13 to District 12 on that same hovercraft that took me away from my mother. The one that changed my life forever…

Anyway, she says to me, "Hey, you."

"Hey," I say. Then I see that it looks like she's been crying. The telltale signs being puffy red eyes. "What's the matter?"

She looks so forlorn. "Nothing," she says. "It's just…it's just that the whole thing about these Hunger Games and the Capitol and whatnot has reminded me about that day we came here. You remember that day?"

Man, do I. Nothing could ever make me forget it…

We were riding on the hovercraft, all twenty of us and the pilot, just cruising along. We were above the woods, actually near District 12. We were heading for District 4, one of the wealthier Districts. We would be well off there. However, that plan abruptly changed.

Appearing out of the sky suddenly were four fighter jets from the Capitol. With a couple of quick bursts of energy from their lasers, our hovercraft was spiraling down to the ground, on fire. Just before we hit the surface, I took a deep breath, and jumped clear. When I hit the ground, I blacked out for an instant.

When I woke up, I saw the burning hovercraft in front of me, all of the other refugees around me, panicking. Parachuting down around me also were troops from the Capitol, machine guns in their hands. They began to mow down the refugees in cold blood. Blood was flying everywhere, bodies were dropping, it was simply awful. I screamed in horror, but I kept my head and started to run away. I didn't care where; I just had to escape certain death.

After a minute of running away, I heard footsteps behind me. I prayed it wasn't one of the Capitol's troops, but no, it was a girl with ice-blond hair and violet eyes. She looked to be about my age, and was about medium height. She stopped when she saw me, and called to me, "You're one of those from District 13, right?"

"Yes," I said. "Care to join me?"

"Do you know where you're going?" she asked.

"Not a clue in the world," I said.

"Well then, follow me. I know exactly where to go," she said. And then she began to jog along the forest path that I was following. And I followed her.

Before long, we came to a fence. She said, "Beyond that, is District Twelve. We'll be safe there."

Well, now I could contribute something to this partnership. I pulled my father's sword that he had given me just before he left to go off and fight, and say, "This is how we get in." I moved to cut the metal fence.

"Wait!" she cried, catching my arm. "It might be electrified!" She moved closer and leaned in to the fence with one ear. "No, there's no hum. Cut away."

So I did. And it took awhile, all the time she was glancing nervously around, to see if we were not alone here. But it seems we were. I guess the troops had enough on their hands back at the hovercraft wreckage. When I had cut a good-sized hole, we both squeezed through. I said to her, "Where will you go?"

She replied, "I have a relative here, my grandmother. What about you?"

I said, "An uncle on my father's side, and his son live here. I've never met them, but I'm sure they will take me in." I know that I have to ask her something. "Will I see you again?"

She regarded me with a twinkle in her eyes and said to me, "Oh, I'm sure our paths will cross…"

"Wait!" I cried. "What's your name?"

"Milla," she said. "And you?"

"Corran," I answered. And we both went our separate ways for the moment.

So when Milla looks so depressed before me, I can't help but put my arm around her. "Hey, cheer up. What are the odds of one of us being chosen?"

She just says, "You never know, Corran. You just never know."

So after I walk her to her house and return to my own sorry excuse for a place to live, which is located in the area we call the Seam, I have just barely got in the door when my uncle says to me brusquely, "Corran. More news on the Hunger Games."

I have just burst into the sitting room when the TV is saying "…and the first Panem-wide Lotteries will occur in exactly one week. Yep, one week. Good luck to all you out there ages twelve through eighteen, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

So that's it. I have one week. One week before my life will maybe be on the line for all of Panem to see. My uncle says to me, "Well, Corr, even if you are picked, you won't be so bad off, right? I mean, your mother taught you all about poisonous and edible plants, and your dad…well your dad gave you all those lessons on sparring and fighting with a sword and knife, right?"

That's true. See, I didn't have a bad life back in District 13. My mother was a herbalist and my father was a trained fighter and military advisor to the Capitol. We used to go on these picnics in the forest around the District. My mom would show me all of the different plants and their uses, and my dad would give me sparring lessons for fun as my mom rooted us both on. I was even happy at times. But as the Dark Days grew closer, and as my father defected to the rebel's side in the war against the Capitol, the days were few and far between when I knew happiness.

The last thing my father ever gave me was his own personal sword. He said to me, "Corran, you're the man of the house, now, you hear? Protect your mother, and take care of her. Protect her with this." He handed the sword to me.

I said to him in disbelief, "Dad…you're sure?" I mean, he loved this sword. He had used it in almost all of his battles as a soldier.

"Yes, son. How are you going to defend yourself and your mother without a weapon? Remember what I have taught you, and use it well. I love you, son." And he walked out the door of our home. I would never see him again…

I reply to my uncle, "Maybe I have those skills, but no matter what, I'm still going to die. Out of twenty three others, what are the odds that I will be the one to live?"

He says, "You've got to stay positive. And by the way, the news is also talking about this system called tessarae. One can apply for extra grain and oil for one person for one year. The thing is, for how many times you apply for this tessarae, that's how many extra entries in the Reaping that you will gain."

Uh oh, I think. "I don't need to do that, right?"

"No, I don't think so. We're getting by with my job income and with what you forage in the woods, and with what your friend Milla sews for us. That's very handy, not having to spend money buying new clothes or repairing old ones," he says.

"Yes it is," I reply. I don't know where I'd be without Milla, physically or emotionally. She's the one who will always listen to me, and I'm the same for her. Like I said, she's practically my sister.

Could it ever become anything more than just best friends?

I push that thought away. I'll think about that if I make it through the upcoming Lottery...

The allotted week flies by. I want it to last longer, to cherish what might be my last moments in District 12, but that's not meant to be. I forage in the woods for food during the week, using the knowledge my mother taught me. I forage as much as I can, to try and get what I can in case I am picked, and my uncle and cousin have to live without me. The woods is certainly a dangerous place, with wild dogs and remnants of the rebellion ever present, such as tracker jacker nests. Good thing I have my sword to protect me…

~/~/~/~/~/

So one week later, on the day of the Reaping, I dress in my finest clothes. I do want to look nice if I'm to head off to the Capitol. But when I look in the cracked mirror that I have in my bedroom, past the veneer of finely tailored garments, I simply see a boy. A tall, lanky, light-skinned boy with fair brown hair, and green eyes. But actually, the eyes are not the eyes of a boy. They've seen too much carnage and destruction for that…

So when I'm standing in the main town square that afternoon with the other sixteen-year-olds, I try to pay attention to mayor Mellark. But it's really not happening. He's way too boring for that. I tune in somewhere around "…and because this is the first ever Hunger Games, we will have a representative from the Capitol to train our District's tributes. A representative will train our tributes until we have a victor, at that time, he or she will take up the mantle of training. May I introduce to you…Jaing Katarn!"

The crowd's reaction is mixed after the mayor says this. There is piecemeal applause form the blind fools, others, the more sensible of the bunch stare them down and the applauders quickly stop, clearly intimidated. The mayor quickly recovers from our unorthodox display and says, "On to our Capitol escort who will now select our tributes, Miss Telleo Nickel!"

A freakish-looking woman with orange hair and pierced eyebrows steps forward on the stage. Man, she's ghastly. "Ladies first!" she cries.

I'm praying, "Not Milla, not Milla, not Milla…" I do this until the name rings out.

"Selena Mellark!" shrieks Telleo.

The mayor's own daughter! Selena makes her way onstage, looking utterly terrified. I look over at her family. Onstage, the mayor's face is frozen in shock and disbelief. Selena's younger brother and mother look even more frightened than she does. I can't help but feel bad for Selena, who is in my year at school, but at least it wasn't Milla. I catch her eye through the crowd and give her a reassuring smile.

That smile is immediately wiped off my face as I hear the name, "Corran Skirata!"

Is this story a lost cause? I won't continue if it totally stinks. I'm sorry if this chapter was too long; I'm going to try and make this story somewhat like the length of an actual novel, so please bear with me. And again, reviews make my day, so do review! Please!