Contact

I just got a new email address that ties straight to the blog.  If any of you want to comment on the 24th Hunger Games or other parts of the blog, and not be shown on the blog itself you can now contact my blog email address at: awritercandream@gmail.com   Also you can email me if you have any questions about the story, or blog itself.

I've also added a poll for any fans of the 24th Hunger Games, I wouldn't make your bets now, but once the next few chapters are up, it would be nice to see who others are liking the most.

Update!!

Part 3 and 4 of the 24th Hunger Games are up!  Along with these parts I've also added some pages to the blog, including a new short story I wrote a while back called 'The Fallen'.  Check it out if you're interested.  There is also now a schedule on the 24th Hunger Games tab that shows the expected release date for each chapter of the series.  They aren't really set in stone, but I expect to stick to the dates as best as I can.  The goal as of right now is to finish before Christmas, so who knows, I might actually finish before the last release date.

Also, if you want to keep up with the blog, you can follow it by email, you can subscribe to posts or simply follow me through google (+1 my profile).  Whatever works best for you.  If interested, it should be on the right navigation bar beside the posts.

Don't forget to comment on the latest parts of the 24th Hunger Games and let me know what you think.  I would greatly appreciate feedback, even if it's just to tell me you love the story!

The 24th Hunger Games: Part Four: Offense

He had fallen asleep somehow after the fallen tribute sequence, but it had been a light sleep, his rational fear keeping his senses heightened and his nightmares alive.  It was early morning when he woke, hardly any light breaking through the canopy of evergreens, and the nighttime chill still freezing enough to warrant the jacket he had been provided.  The jacket though, meant that while his torso was warm his legs were still cold, the shivers managing to keep a firm hold on his body.  Regardless of how he felt, there was only silence as he laid against the tree, seeing if he would fall back asleep or stay awake.  His panic from yesterday had left him with little energy, and his heavy eyelids made sleep sound like a brilliant idea, even if it wasn’t.

            Sleep was just beginning to take over when he heard it, a quiet ‘snap’ that jerked his head out of its lolling nod.  At most, the sound had been a few meters off, quiet enough to have been an animal, or at worst: another tribute that was passing somewhere nearby, but then it sounded again, closer this time.  Kaede glanced around his encampment, scanning what was available to him, but he was weaponless.  All he had at his disposal was the sample of branches, some way too small to take any person out, and the others much too heavy for him to even lift.  None were his first pick for a fight.

When the snap echoed only a few trees away, he grabbed one of the heavier branches, keeping most of its weight on the forest floor.  He sank down in the brush, gripping the large branch with his right hand, saving his left for the possible fight.  Finally, the sound had come close enough that he was able to pin it to a body; another tribute.  He was coming in Kaede’s direction, a weapon in hand.  From where he sat, he couldn’t tell what the weapon was, only that the boy approaching his spot was from district nine.  The branch leaning on his leg was more than large enough to take out the small boy as massive as it was.  He was only four to five feet tall, still a child, which would make the fight short.  The trouble came in hefting the long piece of tree, which had already begun to tax his leg and energy.

His leg tensed under the branch; he knew he would feel the soreness of this decision tomorrow, he already was beginning to.  A twig snapped a couple feet off, and Kaede prepared himself.  He counted in his head, marking the footfalls of the small boy.  One.  Two.  Three.  Closer the boy came, and with him came the noise of his footsteps; he was obviously not accustomed to masking his presence given the sounds he made in simply walking.

The boy stopped in front of Kaede’s bush, Kaede tensing at the sudden pause.  He had been silent; too silent for the younger boy to have heard him.  His unsaid questions though, were answered quickly as the cannon sounded in the distance, marking a new death.  Neither of them moved, waiting for another cannon shot, another death that seemed to always follow that first boom.  Kaede breathed in deeply, picking a plan of attack, and catapulted himself out of the bush, his branch swinging in the air, gaining a heavy momentum.  The District nine boy didn’t even move, didn’t turn from his staring in the direction of the cannon.  He just stood there, oblivious to the threat.

There was a slight delay in his senses as his body continued to move.  A delay that gave him the clearest, almost unmistakable view of the other boy’s confusion, and then terror as he registered what was happening, and what it meant.  Down.  His body only continued in its path downward on the other boy, swift, and gradual at the same time.  Then there was a ‘thunk’, as it connected, a sound that wasn’t as smooth as the machete he had seen the District Two boy wield.  The blow itself was merciful enough, clipping him brutally in the head with the force to give a near instantaneous death.  The force threw the boy off his feet, but there would be no catching himself from the blow, his body immediately crumpling to the ground with an even louder ‘thunk’.

Kaede could only stare as the breath left the young boy’s body, the cannon marking his fatal success.  The branch dropped from his hands, his left finally losing its strength once again.  Blood coated him from the strike -all not his own- some dripping and drying on his face, the rest remaining as droplets on his clothing, spattered across his jacket and pants.  He should have cared, should have felt sick, but instead there was only a hollowness; a sense of detachment, the blood becoming a second skin.  It didn’t help that he hadn’t a drop of water to spare for cleaning himself.

For so long he had dreaded the games and what they meant for someone like him.  No one at the Reaping thought he would make it, and yet he was still alive.  That had to count for something.  Or at least that was what he hoped for himself.  It was the only thing that he could believe if he was going to make it anywhere near the end of the games.

He stooped next to the fallen body, his gaze skirting over the marks he had inflicted himself.  From the amount of blood that coated the forest floor at his feet, he knew staring at what he had done would only hinder his own chance of survival, of winning.  Shuddering, he pushed his hand into the area under the boy’s arm, pulling out the weapon that had fallen under him.  There was a brief moment of relief as he grasped the weapon the other boy had been clutching; an axe, nearly identical to the one he had worked with back home.  Its steel tip glinted in the afternoon light, sharp and clean.  The handle under his hand was soft, not the rough wooden kind he had grown up with.  He pulled it up with his bad hand, wincing as it let out a deep ache, drained already from the attack.  For now, he would have to rest and recuperate in order to be ready for the next encounter.  He could make plans tomorrow for all the good they would do him at this point.  With a sigh, he switched hands, and held onto the axe, unable to place it anywhere else.  He would need it in the coming time anyway.

On the boy’s back was one of the bags from the Cornucopia, but inside of it was only a canteen that was half full, and matches that he would never use.  He sighed for a long moment, uncapping the canteen, and gulping down a fraction of the water.  Frustration kicking in, his hand tightened around the matchbox, crumpling it a little on the edges before he tossed it back in the bag, and slung the pack on his own back.  He would still need to find water.

There had been mostly silence for what seemed like forever, the sound of cannon absent in the arena.  His killing of the boy ended that long silence, but only for that short span of time.  From Berkeley’s words, he had remembered to keep count of the tally, which had now crept up to seven, only two days in.  He didn’t know which tributes remained, merely that he was sure the careers were still alive, and hunting everyone else down.  If he was to face them, he would need more than just his strength to survive.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, he laid himself in the thick leaves of a low tree, tucking his body out of sight.  There was still light peeking over the canopy of the trees, but it was pitch dark where he rested on the ground.  None of the other tributes dared start a fire in the endless darkness, terrified of what the others could do to them in their sleep.  A lone light flashed briefly as the music began, and the fallen tribute’s faces showed in the sky.  Remorse had its second go at him when the small boy from nine appeared at the end of the sequence, a pang in his chest reminding him that he had done the unthinkable.  He had killed someone who should never have been in this hell hole.  He had killed a boy; an armed one, but still a boy.

The music ended, and the light faded from the clouds, nighttime enveloping him, and his growing despair.  The torture he realized, didn’t end as soon as the tribute sequence disappeared, it only looped itself day after day.  He would either win, die, or go insane.  He was sure he preferred winning as opposed to the latter two, but he had a feeling disaster was coming for him.

The 24th Hunger Games: Part Three: Clash and Carnage

“Are you ready?”  Berkeley stood outside his room, some compassion showing in his usual bored expression.  Kaede could only stare down at himself, taking in the outfit that had been sent up only that morning.  It wasn’t anything special, mostly a thin shirt that was fitted to his skin, pants, boots, and a jacket that felt too warm for the heated room they stood in.  The clues were right at his fingertips but he still felt unsure of where he was being sent.  Berkeley sighed beside him, and ushered him out the door, staying silent as they made their way out of the tribute center.  “There’s most likely a forest.”

            Kaede snapped out of his thoughts, stumbling a little from surprise, but Berkeley made no move to wait for him.  “How do you figure that?”

            “The jacket, and shirt.  Hot during the days, cold at night, though that’s pretty much anywhere these days.”

            It made sense.  “Oh.”

            “Look, it’s alright to be scared, Kaede.  I was, but don’t just shut it in, that only leads to you freezing on the spot, and getting killed like an idiot.”

            “So don’t freeze?”  Berkeley looked at him like he was stupid, but nodded anyway, probably out of pity.

            “Don’t freeze.  Just remember to run, and not go for the weapons.  Beyond that, I can’t really help you.”  They stopped in front of an aircraft, some of the other tributes already on board.  “I’ll see you right before you go up.”  With a last nod, Berkeley disappeared from the launch pad, leaving Kaede to board.

            Kaede paused at the ramp of the ship, staring at the Capitol person standing just inside, and the tributes who merely sat in their seats, no sign of fear on their faces.  He was sure his own had an expression of terror.

            The Capitol lady approached him when he still didn’t move, but she didn’t seem annoyed.  “Please, sit.”  She motioned to one of the seats, letting him strap himself in.  Once he was situated, she leveled a device near his arm, and shot something in it, the small object letting out an equally small light.  He didn’t ask what it was, he didn’t want to know.  That line of questioning only made the games that more real.

            He didn’t know the two tributes on either side of him, both likely from the farther out districts, but directly across from him was the district one boy, who now leaned back in his own seat, his eyes closed.  There wasn’t even a flinch as the aircraft lifted upwards, beginning the trip to the arena.  He simply sat there, taking a leisurely nap on their way to certain death.

            Kaede looked away, and down at his hands, the only things that would not attract attention at that moment.  His left hand was unusually still, while his right shook with nervous energy.  Sighing heavily, he sat on the hand, hiding it from the others and himself.  Don’t shut it in.  What had Berkeley meant by that?  How exactly was he supposed to let it out?

            There was a shudder as the aircraft landed, the ramp opening up to his left.  They were in a large hangar, all of the sunlight shielded out, and the exits consisting of twenty-four small hallways.  Each hallway was marked with a district number and a male or female symbol.  He spotted the one marked with a seven, and followed it down to a door.  His hand touched the knob, but it was a long moment before he actually opened it, the fear creeping up on him.

            The room behind the door was tiny, meant only to house the cylindrical elevator and the tribute.  Berkeley though managed to stand calmly next to the elevator, allowing Kaede some space to breathe.  “We don’t have much time, so if you have any questions, I would ask them now.” 

There was silence as Kaede slowed down his breathing, trying to regain some sense of composure.  When he spoke, his voice betrayed him, every word forcing him to take a large gulp of air.  “How long do we have?”

“They are about to start the countdown.”

He nodded, sitting on a small stool in the corner.  “How did you win?”  There was a rustle as Berkeley kneeled down in front of him, true pain showing in his eyes.

“I survived.  I knew my strengths and weaknesses and I played by them.”

“Tributes have one minute before Games start,” a cold voice said through the one speaker in the room.  It was a struggle to reign in his breaths again, the fear plaguing his mind, and making it difficult to focus on anything else.

“Kaede.”  He forced another breath out of his lungs, the panic not letting up.  “Kaede!”  Berkeley snapped at him, shaking his leg.  The panic didn’t go away, but the focus returned, his green eyes locking onto Berkeley.  “Keep it together, remember not to shut it in.” 

His confusion at Berkeley’s words must have shown, because the sympathy returned in that moment, Berkeley patting him on the knee.  “How?”  He could hear the crack in his voice, the fear that was driving him mad.  “How do I do that?  Look at my hand!”  His left hand still hadn’t acted up, but it was surely waiting for the right time.  “They are going to kill me,” he wanted Berkeley to stop it, to make it go away, but he knew; he knew that even Berkeley didn’t hold that power.

“Turn it against them, Kaede.”  He took Kaede’s ruined hand, and held it up.  “Make them realize that you are someone worth competing with.” 

“Thirty Seconds before start,” the voice spoke blandly.  Berkeley stood, and offered a hand to Kaede, helping him stand. 

“Let’s get you in there.”  Kaede nodded, and stepped into the elevator.

“Berkeley,” he paused in the entrance of the elevator, turning to look at his mentor.  “Thank you.”  The cylinder made a ‘click’ as it sealed shut, locking him in, though he could still see Berkeley standing nearby.  Distantly, he could hear the countdown continuing, soon to be reaching zero.  Anxiety gripped onto him again, his breathing becoming shallow, and his hand finally aching.  He didn’t look at Berkeley now, afraid his fear would show much too clearly on his face. 

Kaede clenched his bad hand, testing its strength warily, attempting to drown out the countdown from his mind.  It must have finally reached its end he realized as the cylinder lit up, and he was lifted into the sunlight.

Blinding light was all he could focus on at first, his eyes unable to quickly adapt to the ferocity of it.  Slowly, he could make out the shadowy forms of his opponents, all positioned in a semi-circle.  He stood on a raised platform, identical to those that the others stood on, the platforms and cornucopia being the only metallic objects in a sea of green.  Grass covered the ground, and in every direction there was a forest that seemed to go on forever no matter which way you went.  The Cornucopia was equidistant from each of them; a steel object that rested just in the middle of the circle.  Dozens of weapons glistened in the harsh light, each he had already displaced from his mind.  The arena itself was silent, save for the countdown which echoed around them. 

 “Let the 24^th Hunger Games begin!  And may the odds be ever in your favor!”  A loud voice startled him to attention, but he didn’t move, remembering Berkeley’s reminder.  “Ten.” Instead, he stared at the array of weapons, searching for the familiar even if he wouldn’t ever use it.  “Nine.”  There wasn’t a tension to the silence, only an intense concentration.  “Eight.”  Kaede leaned forward on the platform, keeping his hand steady even as a short burst of pain shot through it.  “Seven.”  His eyes focused on the Cornucopia, picking a small spot to fixate on, his plan good enough to fool himself.  “Six.”  In his mind, he chanted ‘run to the trees’, trying to keep his body in line, and not moving toward the one area that would get him killed.  “Five.”  He took a deep breath.  “Four.”  Beside him the other tributes prepared themselves.  “Three.”  Run to the trees.  “Two.”  Run to the trees.

“One.” The cannon rang out, Kaede flinching at first from its abruptness.  That hesitance cost him as he watched the other tributes dart forward, only a select few dashing into the woods.  The careers were quick, taking the weapons first, or killing those who had already managed their own.  Kaede’s chant left his mind as he stood there paralyzed.  It was a bloodbath, one body hitting the ground, and then another.  As each body fell there was a loud cannon shot, marking the exact moment they died.  Mason, the district two boy closed in on a small girl, and his machete ended her in several clean swipes, her blood spraying the ground.  That smile he had worn the other day was present, a smile that pushed out the simple fear of death, and pushed Kaede into a scrambling run.  He didn’t attempt to pick up any of the scattered bags, he just ran, not looking back at the gory mess he had fled from.  They were laughing he realized as his heart rate slowed.  They were killing kids just like them, and laughing, enjoying, the mayhem of the rampant death.

Once he had put a wide enough distance between him and the cornucopia, he dropped behind one of the trees, struggling to take breaths when the panic still burned inside of him.  He no longer could hear their laughing, or the sound of the cannon, but it did little to ease his trepidation.  His right hand didn’t shake now, but his left throbbed uncontrollably, Kaede cradling it against his chest.  He was safe for now, but it wouldn’t last, he knew it wouldn’t.  Berkeley’s advice had gotten him past the cornucopia, now he had to pull himself through the next part.  He didn’t have supplies or a weapon though, and that lack was something he wouldn’t be able to ignore for long. 

It remained silent as he leaned against the trunk of the tree, its roughness bringing him back to reality.  The bright sunlight the games had started under was dimmed, most likely now late afternoon, and soon it would grow dark.  If the Careers hadn’t left the cornucopia, they would now.  He would have to move, but that took more than just standing, it required a determined mind, something he didn’t have right then.  Without the sound of cannon fire, the feeling of being hunted was becoming worse, the Careers unseen and unknown.  Kaede stood from his resting spot, and finally looked at his surroundings, taking in the sameness of each of the trees.  They all looked nearly identical, useless in trying to pinpoint his location.  He had run, and now it was costing him.  No supplies, so he would need to make his own cover, and food.

The sun was getting lower and lower as he dragged branches still filled with leaves to a nearby hole, layering the pieces.  One after the other he dragged and mounted the branches, draping them together as best as he could.  With the low lying bushes, and shorter trees it looked inconspicuous, at least to the untrained eye, which was all he could afford.  After all the parts were placed together, he dropped down behind the wall of nature, and tried to settle down.  A task that became harder when the Panem theme played in the air surrounding him.  It didn’t just come from above, but from every crevice of the arena, destroying any chance of sleeping he had had.  In the sky, the Capitol symbol flashed, and then a stream of faces, all those of kids he had seen fall at the Cornucopia.  With them came the knowledge of their origin, the small girl killed by Mason being from District twelve, and the others, six in all, coming from Three, Five, Eight, and Ten.  Her name had been Iris that was all he knew, besides the fact that she had lived too short a life.  He was now one out of eighteen tributes left.  It seemed wrong to simply wait for one of the Careers to end him now.