Chapter One

You were under the impression
That when you were walking forward
You'd end up further onward
But things ain't quite that simple.

You got altered information
You were told to not take chances
You missed out on new dances

DISTRICT 10 CITIZEN, MORIAH BEVAN AGED 18

The wild eyed girl's hazel eyes dart back and forth from the camera to Enrolius. It does not matter how many years I have watched our dear old Game's announcer because every time I am unnerved. His turquoise bouffant dusted with glitter would put you in mind of a fairy tale creature whilst his beady black eyes and dull and lacking in any emotion and wonder I'd associate with something mythical. He is a walking oxymoron as he's styled to look ethereal and bright, almost harmless and appealing but his demeanour is anything but.

Selene Marellis is the latest victim to be paraded on our screens and around Panem. She came from District 6 before having such honours and riches thrust upon her. She is our fresh and shiny victor and the blood on her hands is the freshest so naturally she is in high demand. A hot commodity.
Selene being the victor of the 25th Games means we are supposed to celebrate and almost revere her but I can't. Nobody sane and with a conscious would be able to celebrate a girl who managed to make it out of a fight from the death, a fight she did not seek out but rather was sentenced to. My sister feels sorry for the shell shocked 15 year old with wild eyes and now shining hair whilst some of us here in Ten are either fascinated by the unlikely hero or just plain indifferent to the whole thing.

Enrolius is making Selene recap her adventure as she so puts it. I don't even know why I am watching it. Nobody else in our cottage is as they're too busy 'participating'. It's what I am supposed to do or so I've been told. I am supposed to be an active participant in my life, seize the day and make it count.
It's what my sister Heather does. She goes to work in the fields during harvest times and during the winter she makes beautifully hand crafted ornaments to sell on the black markets. Heather's downtime is easily filled in wiling away the bleak after evening hours with her friends in some field or rundown barn or other. I don't know how to do that so my parents and most other adults in my life harp on that I need to participate and not be a bystander.

I click off small and dusty television abruptly scratching the coffee coloured skin on my hand in my haste, apparently another thing I need to do is cut my nails.
I sighed as I rise from the battered kitchen stool and brush my dark hair from my eyes. There will be plenty of time to prep my appearance this evening as tomorrow calls for us to look our best. I have to look my best that is in case I will the graveyard lottery. Only I would care about how I would look to the country if I were selected for the Hunger Games, not because I am vain or proud of my appearance, no, the absolute cringe of being in the spotlight like some cornered creature is one thing. Doing it with some embarrassing hairstyle or gauche Sunday best dress would be worse.

"Moriah!" my sister's sing-song voice calls out just as I register the swing and then bang of our screen-door.

I smile a little bit as she waltzes into the room. She is always waltzing wherever she is and no matter the occasion. I just walk because it would kill me to have some sort of defining characteristic that people remember me by, something about that rubs me the wrong way. I wouldn't want to be known as the girl with the distinctive walk, the pretty smile or the good jokes because it just feels cheap to me. I'm just Moriah and I try to survive, get by.

"How's it looking out there, sis?" I ask already knowing the answer and that there will be a nervous energy yet a heavy lull over our village. It does little to sooth my nerves or 'condition' as my family refers to my states of panic but I can't ever help thinking about the things I know will cause anxiety.

Shutters will be down, children will have been rushed off to bed and everybody will pass away the hours with some mundane activity or other, just waiting for judgement day; Judgement day being the reaping for the 26th Hunger Games. At least Heather and managed to miss out on the first ever special and 'exciting' Quarter Quell edition of the Games. When President Heroldi announced the big twist I can't say I felt much other than revulsion.

"Same as always, people making like the sheep in their fields and doing what they're told" Heather delivers flatly and I smile wryly her comment actually softening me. I know I should be scoff or scold her in mock horror as I'm the oldest sister and should be warning against running our mouths with comments that could bring comment but her flippancy actually relaxes me.

"At least this year if we are sent off to be prodded and poked and made stars of our own reality show it won't be because some so called neighbour sent us" Heather says whilst rummaging through some cupboards in our modest kitchen.

"Nah, just good old fate this time, eh?"

"I guess so. I see you're still as morbid as ever?" she's pulling out some crackers now and then dashing around for something to drink.

The word morbid reverberates in my mind like a slap.
"I just mean... if it happens it happens. And a lot of people would then remark that maybe that was always supposed to be the case, your destiny or whatever".

I don't think I'm morbid though it's a word I could add to my most heard list and most heard in regards to people describing me actually. I actually think I'm nothing at all, blank and just reacting when I sense a cue to react. I won't ever explain that to anyone though because they'll either not get it or look at me in that uncomfortable, alarmed way.

"I don't even think anybody did choose the tributes last year. At least not in our District but I guess it would a good move from the Capitol to at least make us think that we did".

The words are about before I truly even consider their meaning or what my sister's reaction could be. But something about the way the so called voting was set up and the overall atmosphere on reaping day told me were all a part of somebody else's play even more so than usual.

"I know, I know" Heather dismisses me. "You think it was all some act and that nobody really voted properly or those who did voted for one person or other they had a grudge on and there was no clear winner of the vote. You're wild for your conspiracy theories."

"And you're wrong. People aren't as passive as you think and I'll bet many jumped at the chance to vote for someone they disliked. Humans can be way more vindictive than you think."

Heather gives me a long, knowing look as if she just said something oh so poignant and life changing before she dances out of the room and calls back that she is going to get things ready for the morning. I know people can be vindictive in ways I just don't see them following something like this. I think the Quarter quell and the games in general are more about the message they portray than the finer details. If it at least appears there is order and compliance I think that is enough to keep the world in order for people like our government.

One thought seems to pierce me as I climb the stairs to Heather and I's shared attic space. What if I find out just how efficient our good leaders in the Capitol are tomorrow? And what's worse, what if I find out just how vindictive my fellow humans can be.

Title song is I've had enough by The Who

NOTE:
Well I am back. I am rusty. I am not really the type of writer whose writing seems to gel with these type of stories but I will try. Those of you who know me know that following a set structure and action writing isn't really my think but I want to finally complete an syot as they are undoubtedly fun and I love exploring the psyche of all of your wonderful creations.
The form will be on my profile and you can send them as and when you wish. I will update when I have enough appropriate forms and then rest can be filled in by my own characters who will die in the Blood bath. Moriah is my tribute by the way so the D10 female spot is taken as I find it easier to have one of my own tributes to work with and it takes the pressure off and I will most likely have some other filler characters who will not make it too far.
IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK :)

Megan