Hello and I am back with another story!

This is a hunger games inspired story, not a crossover by the way!

But although it may look exactly like the Hunger Games I assure you it won't be. When I looked at this chapter I thought of how predictable people will think it is.

But this has a totally different plot!

DISCLAIMER of HUNGER GAMES and PERCY JACKSON (I think I should give credit to HG because this is inspired by it)

MY EYES FALL ON THE SMALL DANDELION near the materials. It looked so beautiful in the dull room-brought everything to life. The materials surrounded by it suddenly looked brighter in colour, more vibrant. It just made everything look hopeful, everything look nice. It found a way to make anything look good, and it amazed me at how such a small thing could make a huge difference.

The flower made a smile play on my lips, even if it was the most terrifying day of all time.

Sighing, I pick it up gently and place it on the nearby table, careful not to harm it. Lacy had given it to me in the morning before we went up to the Factory.

Pulling my gaze away, I start stitching a bright pink fabric. It's beautiful really, but in the end I'm not going to keep it. I have kept myself from admiring any work over the years that I have created, because what's the use of wanting something you can never have? And I know for a fact I will not like the person who gets to wear it. Everything thought of as luxurious gets sent to the Titans.

I take the fabric away from the machine, satisfied with the stiches, and I take a needle and sew lace to it. My fingers carefully stitch in and out, in and out, in and out. The years of practicing not to prick my finger has paid off and I am able to successfully finish my work quickly.

I put the material down, my fingers slowly tracing the intricate floral design. The lace gives it an exquisite touch and I can imagine myself in a dress made from this.

But I am not to see this be made into a dress. I just get the material ready and then give it in; the professional designers are the ones who decide what to do with it. And imagining myself in such a way just fuels any spark of vanity in me.

The material ends up being folded and put on the other side of a table. I reach out for a dull grey cloth left for us, which is a way that we are paid. The Factory gives us more material for us to make clothing for our families. I find this ridiculous, because this is District 10 and you can find heaps of clothing here.

The fabric is coarse and rough, I could make some pants for me and the remainder of fabric could be sold somewhere else. Or I could make coat for Lacy and prepare on making clothing for winter. I can't really make anything fancy, but the school teaches us to make simple shirts and pants and dresses for ourselves.

The Factory is a place where most of the villagers work. We create fabrics-make them look nicer-then send it off to the Titans. Most people start working here from an early age, 10 or so, and some look like they have been here all their life. I'm fifteen and a half and I've been working since I was twelve. I have come to the conclusion that I will work in the Factory until I die, because it's the only way to feed Lacy and my father. It doesn't bother me working at such an age, it's normal around here.

But still, my heart aches when I see small children among all the other workers, trying to get a bit of money to take home.

I guess it really depends on how much you need to feed your family.

I work in a small room that provides a sewing machine and a desk and chair. It's tiny-and it just adds to the feel of being imprisoned in this life. Work starts early at dawn, and you leave have the permission to leave.

I look at the time-8:45-and decide that I should go home since it's the Reaping today. I carry the materials in my arms and head out of the room. I place my shift card and run out of the Factory.

District 10 is quiet and dull, preparing for the Reaping that is to be held at 10 o'clock in the town square. The Reaping is an annual event that occurs on this day, where the Fates visit each district to pick out a tribute, between the ages of 12-17, to appear in the Titan Games, a live reality TV show that is aired for everyone in Olympus to see. The tributes are placed into Tartarus, a deadly arena filled with monsters of all sort, and the last few that make it alive-if that is even possible-win. Altogether, there are twelve tributes chosen from districts 1, 3, 4, 5-up to district thirteen.

The only district that does not participate in it is district 2, who long ago fought in a rebellion with the other districts in a war against the Titans. In the end, we lost and they won. District 2 is now nothing but ashes and ruins, and the Titans brought us the Games in order to remind us of their victory-and to remind us that we are powerless over these things.

This is the 63rd year of the Games, and this is my 3rd time entering-I haven't been chosen and I'm hoping I never will be. I've seen many people of District 10 be placed into the games. Unfortunately, our district is often laughed at because sewing and making dresses are obviously not a fighting skill useful for the arena. And you guessed it; we hardly ever have any survivors coming back.

My biggest fear is having Lacy being chosen. I know my sweet, cheerful, innocent, kind little sister would never be able to survive the cruel violence the Games has to offer. Lacy would never hurt a fly, and she is my whole life. Though I doubt she will be picked, non-career twelve year olds are hardly ever chosen.

The tributes that are most likely to stay alive are from the first and second districts. Other tributes who are smart, violent or brave enough often come out as well-but they mostly rely on the career tributes-the stronger tributes.

Some years the Titan Games doesn't come out with a winner. But that doesn't bother them, just so long as they get the pure entertainment of watching those poor children being tortured and killed in the act. And the worst thing that could happen after surviving the games once is being chosen again. This happened to a boy named Percy Jackson from district 3, who was first put into the games at twelve then chosen again at fourteen. I bet he's hoping he doesn't get picked now at the age of sixteen.

I finally reach the village, a small area filled tiny and dirty homes. I've lived here ever since I could remember, with my sister, father, mother...but that was before she died. Opening the door, I place the bundle of fabrics down onto a table, then I set out clothes onto my bed-preparing for the Reaping. As I turn to the cupboard, I see my reflection in a mirror. Messy brown hair and tanned skin from spending those days with my cousin Mitchell and Lacy picking strawberries in the small secluded field nearby. My eyes-many say that they are pretty-but I hate them. They just remind me of my mother.

My mother died in a bomb that exploded in the factory-there were a few survivors but she wasn't one of them. I still remember that day, and her kissing my cheek every morning like she always used to do, promising to come back for the afternoon. But she never did. And for once she hadn't kept her promise.

My father works as a merchant, but when he found out about her death-he stopped. He stopped working, and his warm eyes that used to look upon everything so kindly turned dead. His charming smile no longer appeared, and his laugh was never heard of again. He just-just stopped. He might still be alive but his soul died along with mum.

And that's why I hate it when everyone calls me beautiful, because it hurts to be reminded that I look like her. The pain that happened 5 years ago still is evident. And though the compensation the Titans gave us helped for one year, it began to run out. That was when I started working in the Factory.

Father left me mother's dress to wear, which surprised me but he insisted. It's simple, but it's the prettiest thing I have ever had. It's white with frills at the top and frills at the bottom. Placing it down onto my bed, I grab a basket and head out to meet Mitchell.

There are a few people walking around, but most are probably mourning the deaths of the past Games. I hate watching it, but the Titans make sure that the whole of Olympus is watching. I used to have nightmares after seeing those monsters, and my mother used to comfort me-singing soft reassuring words to sleep.

It's suddenly cold, and I wrap the trench coat around me tighter. I quickly go around a bend and under a fence to the strawberry fields. I could get fined for doing this on a daily basis, but I'm the one who brings everyone the fruit while the rest go off to the Titans.

"I was wondering when you would come,"

I whip my head around. "Mitchell," I almost screech. "You scared the living day lights out of me."

He chuckled and patted my head, messing up my hair. "You sound so old,"

I push his hand away. "How can you act like that today of all days? Doesn't it scare you too?"

His cheerful eyes turn deadly serious. "Of course, it scares me to death-but you and I are one out of a million people in District 10. Don't worry about it, Pipes,"

He acts so casual about this, but I know that inside he's freaking out, too. He's just always the one that has to keep calm, for the family. He's my cousin and he helped us after my mother died. And now here he is saying it doesn't bother him.

"How do you do it?" I ask as he takes the basket out of my hands and places some strawberries into it.

"What?"

"How do you keep so calm?" He stops then gives me a small smile.

"I don't," he says. "I'm just really good at pretending."

I stare at him for a while, not knowing how to reply. So instead I just start picking some strawberries as well.

"Are you excited to meet the Fates again?" he asks quietly. I smile a little. The Fates were three old ladies with their scary smiles and funny accents. Mitchell plops himself onto the ground and pretends to knit just the way they do.

"Happy Titan Games my little ones! I wonder who the lucky duckling will be this time," he says imitating their ridiculous accent. "Well now, let's get choosy! And may the odds-"he throws a strawberry and I catch it with my mouth. The sweet flavour erupts in my mouth.

"Be ever in your favour!" I finish off laughing. It's hard to be doing this right now, but their accent his so funny that it can make any situation hilarious. He smiles.

"Let's get to business."

We take the full basket and go under the fence, around the bend, up to the houses. The people thank us and wish us luck in the Reaping. We eventually reach the Mayor's wonderful house.

It has lovely painting on the walls and a bronze door knocker in the shape of a leaf.

I knock on the door and a girl with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes opens the door. She's wearing a blue frock with lace at the bottom and her hair has a blue headband, Reaping Clothes. On her collar there is a golden horn like shape badge-made from pure gold.

Silena's family are the only ones who can afford such things.

"Piper, Mitchell! Happy Titan Games," she says smiling a little. Mitchell nods and shows her the basket.

"To you too, here are the findings of today." She nods back and takes a handful of strawberries and goes inside for a minute. She comes back with a few drachmas.

"Here you go," she says smiling again. Silena and I sit together in school, but I'm not sure if we really are friends. We talk about the same things, and she isn't as proud or stuck up as people may think. In fact she's the nicest person I know and she loves buying our strawberries. "And good luck both of you," she says softly.

"Thank you Silena, I wish you luck as well."

I glance at the town clock that is in our view. It is half-past nine. "We better hurry home and get ready," I say and Mitchell nods. He turns and gives me a brotherly hug. "Don't worry about a thing, you'll be fine." He kisses the top of my head. "Don't worry."

"Good luck," I nod and wave goodbye.

Lacy is already in my old red dress. It's a bit wrinkled but it was the best that we could offer. I slip on the white dress, and it has a lovely scent to it. It's almost as if mother is back. I tie my hair up in a white ribbon and braid Lacy's hair into two braids. She had lovely fair hair, just like mother-only she looks like father.

"There you go," I say softly patting her head. Her hands go to the back of her head feeling the braid with her fingers.

"It's so pretty," she gasps. I come up to her in the mirror and she looks up at me.

"I wish I looked like you," she says quietly.

"No I wish I looked like you," I chuckle. She smiles but then her eyes look up at me sadly. It's her first Reaping, and she must be terrified.

"Don't be scared," I whisper gently touching her cheek. She looks down at the floor. "Nothing bad will happen to you."

Her blue eyes look up at me. "I promise,"