|Sea Green Sand Dollar
Author: silver-hedgehog PM
Annie's not exactly the luckiest girl as proven by the events in her life. But is being reaped really as bad as it seems? Especially when Finnick Odair is watching over her... Follows all that has been said in the books. -Finnick x Annie-Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Finnick O. & Annie C. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 5,654 - Reviews: 3 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 04-23-12 - Published: 04-18-12 - id: 8037834
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Sea Green Sand Dollar
So this is my first Hunger Games fanfics :D inspired mostly by Finnick Odair, of course! Anyway, this is also my first fic that I have written in the present tense so please bear with me!
Before you leave this page I know what you're thinking. There are several storues like this one out there and I'm not going to disagree because there are but I'd eally appreciate it if you gave my fic a shot! I've even noted down what we already know to incorporate into the story!
A slightly more detailed summary:
On the day of the reaping for the 70th anniversary, Annie steps on a sand dollar, something that's said to bring bad luck in District 4. As a result, she gets reaped and meets Finnick Odair, her half mentor, who promises to tell her a secret if she makes it out of the games alive.
Disclaimer: see profile.
From Annie's POV.
Chapter 1: The Reaping
I have been told I am simple, like a seashell. I think it is flattering when someone compares you to something as pretty as that. I always liked to spend my scarce and almost non-existent spare time down by the infamous beaches of District 4, my home, swimming or looking for pretty shells for my collection.
I decided to take a short stroll down to the beach and clear my mind, hoping to calm the dread that has been building up within me over the past weeks when they started to show reruns of last year's Hunger Games on the town square's screen.
They showed it all: the gore, the deceit and the starvation that goes on in those arenas, a place that, with any luck, I will never have to experience. Ever.
I stopped walking towards the sea when I felt something poking my foot from beneath and lift my foot off the silky soft sand. It was a sand soon as my brain registers the sand dollar, I immediately drop it.
There are superstitions in District 4, one of which accounts for my dropping the sand dollar. Sand dollars are known to be a curse around these areas. Seeing them, touching them, associating with them in any way is like breaking a mirror, only worse if I remember correctly.
It is too bad people don't compare me to a conch or something like that. They usually call me a sand dollar. And they have reason to.
I am not exactly the luckiest girl, I have to admit. When I born, my mother died shortly after giving birth to me and when I was eight, my dad disappeared off the coast somewhere along with the boat and a few other crew members during their daily catch. Ever since then, I've been living with my grandparents, who adore me, being their only relative left.
I hope that my nickname does not ring true for today is the dreaded reaping. And knowing my luck, it's my turn to be chosen.
I left my hair as it is, as I always leave it. My hair has a subtle shine to it, making it look natural and the sea breeze that I feel caressing my skin everyday gives my hair a slight wave.
I present myself to my grandma. She always helps me get prepared for the reaping by making sure I do not leave the house until I look appropriate for the occasion.
On my body is the White dress that I wore to last year's reaping. I am surprised that it still fits me like it did last year; not too tightly or too loosely, just perfectly.
Once my grandma has given me the seal of approval, I leave the house with a smile until they can't see me and I know it is safe to convey how I really feel on my face. Fear.
Getting in to the town square, which has been transformed from its usual hustling and bustling Market place to a heavily guarded space of nothing but a stage with a few seats and a podium, is difficult. People are lining up to get in, not that they have a choice, and the peacekeepers are keeping guard.
I notice my friend at the front of the line next to mine and I make eye contact with her, confirming that I will see her as soon as I get in because we both without a doubt need someone to stand by each other while we hold our breaths and pray that it is not our names that are drawn from the glass dish that look suspiciously like a fishbowl.
Once I emerge from having my fingerprint and blood taken, I approach my friend and we walk forward together, arms linking tightly together in case we get separated like we did in our first year of the reaping.
We walk forward until it is physically not possible to proceed any further. From where I stand, I get a good view of the people on stage.
To the left side is where they usually put the boys dish and the seats for the mayor who is trying to loosen his tie to relieve himself of some heat. He must be boiling wearing a suit like that under the blazing afternoon sun.
Next to him is where the escort for district 4 sits when she is not speaking. I think her name is Lacy or something like that. I can not really remember. She looks even more flamboyant that last year and I did not think that was possible. Her skin has been died pink and her hair is a dark shade of purple. She wears a yellow dress suit with lots of lace and sparkly bits attached to it. If my grandma saw that, she would not get the seal of approval that is for sure.
There is gap between the next lot of seats where past victors of the games sit. The youngest is a girl who won three years ago, I don't remember watching her game much but I do know that the year she won was the year after Finnick Odair, a handsome nineteen year old who was reaped when he was just fourteen, two years younger than I am now.
Finnick is the type of guy who attracts a lot of attention. I remember him before the games. I never spoke to him but remember seeing him. He looked like any other guy except he had the most alluring pair of sea green eyes. They say that sea green eyes are meant to be lucky (at least that's what they say in District 4) but four years ago, the luck of the eyes failed him.
Since his turn in the arena, he has grown up. He has a more defined face and body, emphasising the fact that he is no longer a child but an able man.
Next to Finnick Odair is one of the oldest living victor of our district. Old Mags, as everyone calls her. I've seen her round town a lot, spoken with her too. She is really friendly and a nice person to have a laugh with. But now that there is a younger female victor, Mags no longer mentor the tributes, like she did with both Finnick and the other girl, Camille.
There were other victors in between Finnick's and old Mag's victory but they all died because of different causes from boating accidents to depression. If I remember right, there were three other victors, two male and one female.
"Let's pray that we don't get reaped." my best friend Annika says to me.
Annika has been my friend since... Forever and I don't want our friendship to die because one of us got reaped and had to end it. Unwillingly, I like to think.
I nod in agreement and try to maintain a positive outlook. Out of all the people here, the odds of me being reaped seem slim, considering that only the minimum number of times my name has been entered obligatory is there. "Let's." I say, trying not to worry her. I feel like if I say any more I may vomit with nerves.
I jump slightly when I hear Lacy speak into the microphone. She gives us the usual lecture of the history of the Hunger Games and what happened to District 13 when there was one and all that and before we know it, she has moved onto the clip that they show us every year. The clip runs for fifteen minutes, during which time I feel my hands start to produce a whole load of excess perspiration and my heart starts to beat faster until I start to feel uncomfortable.
Lacy wastes no time and moves onto the reaping itself, starting with the girls dish like she does every year. "Ladies first." She always says in that annoying voice that on;y Capitollers can withstand.
Annika and I huddle in together, as if it would help protect our names from being drawn. And when she says what I think I hear her say, I black out.
She called my name. Annie Cresta.
Well this is my first chapter and yes, I realise that it's quite short. I hope you liked it and please review! I will make the next chapter longer (I've already written it). But for now please review and hopefully I'll speak to you again via my author's notes in chapter 2.