This story is made up of one scene from each of the 75 Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins! Thank you for writing the best book series ever!

This story was inspired by PK9's amazing fanfiction, 1743.

The 1st Hunger Games


District 8

The strange metal plate I stand on starts to rise up through the glass tube. For a minute, I'm in complete darkness. The last thoughts I have before I enter the arena are What kind of sick Game is this? It's almost like they've been preparing for years. Yes, this whole nightmare runs too smoothly to have been thrown together right after the rebellion. I remember the ceremony where they picked tributes, reading the new treaty and asking for volunteers that weren't there. I remember my well-organized week in the Capitol, training to fight to the death for the city's entertainment. And suddenly I'm in the arena, blinking in the immediate brightness of the artificial sun. As soon as my eyes adjust to the light, I can see a shining golden Cornucopia in the middle of the clearing. But it's not a normal clearing. There isn't a tree in sight. Behind us tributes is a field of long grass, stretching as far as I can see in every direction, with the exception of the Cornucopia's "clearing", of course. The grass is so close I could reach out and touch it. But when the wind blows it my way, I step forward abruptly. It seems so much more real to me, now that I'm here. My visit to the luxurious Capitol is over.

I scan the clearing for supplies within reach. I consider stepping down to take a closer look before the Games begin, but I don't want the "game-makers", who I know observe our every move in the arena, to think I'm trying to get a head start. I can't afford to lose this Game.

I look to my right and see Cleo standing up on her pedestal, maybe ten feet away. She looks so confused, and completely terrified. Her expression mirrors what I'm feeling inside. Fear, dread, and an awful hopelessness. We're both going to die. We're all going to die. Maybe not today, though it's pretty likely, but we're all going to die. Except for one of us. The only thing I can do now is hope that one is me. Or Cleo. But even if I imagine myself as the victor, that awful hopelessness comes right back afterwards. It's inescapable.

It's this moment when I notice how distracted I've become. I turn my attention back to the countdown. But the arena is strangely silent. Then, I realize something. The countdown is over. The Games have begun. So why hasn't anyone moved? I look at all the tributes. Most are just standing there, looking a little uncertain. One, I think the boy from District 4, risks stepping off his pedestal, but he immediately jumps back on as if the grass under his feet had burst into flames. Cleo looks over at me, and I suddenly want to be back home, in District 8.

"I don't want to do this, Scooter," says Cleo. Her voice is barely a whisper.

Cleo's never hurt anybody! She's only twelve! Why are they doing this to her? To both of us? As if destroying our country's rebellion didn't cause us enough pain, now we have to be punished further. Of course, I'm referring to what used to be the revolution, until the Capitol ended it. And one year later, here we are. In a strange outdoor arena, being forced to murder kids we've never even met. Why are they doing this to any of us? Even the tributes from District 2, the only district reluctant to rebel against the Capitol, look nervous. The girl is crying. A minute passes. Then two. No one's fighting. No one's moving. None of us want to start killing each other. That's when they start blowing up the pedestals.

The first explosion comes as a complete shock. It almost knocks me off my feet. The unlucky victim is the girl from 12. And now it doesn't matter if she had a chance of winning, because it's all over. I know what they're doing immediately. They're trying to scare us into fighting each other. The boy from 12 goes next, and there's another simultaneous gasp from the remaining tributes. The girl from 11 would be the next one to die, but her district partner whisks her off her pedestal just before it's blown to pieces. They sprint into the grass without grabbing supplies, and without looking back.

Why is everyone else still here? Why am I still here? Maybe I'm just confused. I don't know quite what to do. Could I escape quickly into the grass with my district partner, like the tributes from 11? If I run to the supplies, won't it give someone else the perfect chance to kill me? Would they get off their pedestal for the chance? Maybe I'm still here because I don't want to risk it.

There's an eerie silence, as if those "game-makers" are sending us a message. Who's next?

The tributes from 9 and 10 all dismount their pedestals at once. They start to grab supplies. Then the tributes from the upper districts, like 1, 2, and 4, join them. The rest of us follow soon after.

With everyone else distracted by the battle just beginning to unfold at the Cornucopia, I grab Cleo's hand and start to run towards the grass. Suddenly, she is yanked away with a shriek. It's the boy from 1, who's got her by the ponytail. He holds a knife to her throat.

"No!" I shout, "Put her down!" Surprisingly, the boy almost immediately lets go of her. Cleo falls to the ground, crying.

"I… I can't…I…" he starts. From the expression on his face I can tell he's in a somewhat similar situation as Cleo and I. We all are, even the tributes murdering each other just a short distance away.

"Come on," I tell him. He nods. I help Cleo up and we all run into the grass.

FATE: Both Cleo and the boy from 1 died on day 2. Scutarius, who was often called Scooter, spent the rest of his Games alone. The finale of the 1st Hunger Games was a long and bloody battle between three tributes: Scooter, the boy from 7, and the boy from 4. Scooter was unarmed. The boy from 4 killed the boy from 7 and Scooter managed to get the fallen tribute's sword. Scooter killed the boy from 4 and became the very first victor.

Please comment, and tell me what you think! Did you like it? Is there anything I can do to make it better? And most importantly, what should happen next? The next chapter in the story will be about an entirely different tribute, in the 2nd Hunger Games. And the next will be a different tribute in the 3rd Games. What should their stories be about?