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Voices: The First Hunger Games

By celticgames4

Thriller / Adventure

Meet the Tributes I

A/N: Welcome to the First Hunger Games! (which I probably shouldn't be writing, but oh well!) This is a songfic to Celtic Thunder's version of "Voices," and each character has a line to the song. I'll be going in order to the song, and starting on the first day. Half will be in Chapter 1, half in chapter 2. I promise the POV's will be longer, but I wanted to introduce you to each character and see your favorites. Check out the sponsoring system at the bottom!

Voices…. Are calling…Voices…Are calling…Voices calling… Voices calling…. Yooouuu…


There's a voice that is starting to call us…

I was named after a bug.

Ok, so I was named after a pirate, but whatever. His last name was Crickett, but unfortunately, that's my first name. I suppose we should go into a brief history, shouldn't we?

My name is Crickett Jenson. I am 14 years old, I live in District 4, I like to fish, and I have an older brother named Angler.

Another thing about crickets: they're fish bait. I like to think I'm not fish bait, because I'm only 14 and I do just fine with Angler and the big 16-year-olds. I'm never even the last picked.

But, now, I'm… I'm here. I'm here, in these… What are they called again… Hunger Games?

They've told us over and over again that we're supposed to kill each other. But… How can we do that? How can you turn yourself into a killer like that? We're teenagers, we were never made to kill like this!

But, no… We're being called to come here; forced to live this giant nightmare. There are 24 of us, only one comes out alive. I blink a tear out of my eyes and pray that it's me.


It's a voice that we just can't ignore…

This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare.

We're here, in this giant dome, and the whole nation is being forced to watch it. Well, is it the whole nation? I don't know…

This has to be a nightmare. I'll wake up to the smiling eyes of my sister Parry soon. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. Still here.

Shut and open. Still here.

I can't overlook this. I can't ignore it. I could be dead by tomorrow. I could be dead.

Being the District 1 boy, I'm expected to take the lead, but the truth is that I really don't want to. I really don't want to be here. I really don't want to do any of this: it's sick. I mean, I'm only 16 years old, anyways.

Death is scary… It's a scary thought and even scarier if you think about the children that are dying. I gulp. I never want the countdown to end.


There's a bell that is ringing to tell us, we're in a time and a place like never before…

It's not a bell; it's a gong.

I push the glasses up my nose and look forward. Before me is the scariest sight I've ever seen. Then again, that might just be the lingering thought that I could die soon…

Die. Death. It really wasn't that common in 8 before the revolution. Now it is, though, and now it's going to take 23 of us with it.

I gulp. This is not fun. And, being the first wave of tributes, we get to be the guinea pigs. Everyone back home used to call me by my last name. I was Spinniwebber there, and, if not, just Spin.

Anyways, it doesn't matter now. Nothing really matters now except for how fast I can run and how well I throw a knife.

And, for me, that's a scary thought. I shouldn't overanalyze this. Take a weapon and run. That's all. That's all I need to do to stay alive in this crazy, psychotic game. I feel sick to my stomach. This is insane.


There's a time when we're called to be ready, it's a time when a sign will appear…

I remember my creepy Capitol stylist got me ready for the Arena. He said a bunch of jibberish that I couldn't understand and pushed me toward the claustrophobic little glass tube.

I'm little, tiny, 12. Little, tiny, 12. I can't be here. I can't be here now. I can't be here, ready to fight for my life.

It's insane! What did my Capitol stylist tell me…?

"Heidi, it's the first Games, you always have to be on your feet. You never know what will happen until you live through it."

Or die. I stand next to Platinum, the humongous District 1 boy. I do not want to face him. I do not want anything to do with him. I don't even want to kill him. I want us to live. All 24 of us. And I want the Capitol people to go die in a hole.

And I want all of the Districts to overthrow them. In a perfect world, I'd be back home, running through the fields like I did when I was 3, without a care in the world… Except that will never happen. Next time I'll be in District 11, I'll be in a lovely wooden box.


There's a time when we're called to be steady, this is the moment we know that the moment is here…

Hahaha. It's so funny that my last name is Shoemaker, because I make shoes.

Look at me laughing SO hard.

My sarcasm is just so damn charming, isn't it? Yeah, this'll get me sponsors…

Ok, so maybe this is not exactly the right time to joke around. In fact, it's a terrible time for jokes. It's also a terrible time for sarcasm. I know Spin, well, not personally, but I kind of know Spin. I see him around school a lot.

Do I really think I can kill him? If I have to, I suppose I will.

The sharpest thing I'm comfortable being around is needles. I can work surrounded by needles every day. When I was 12, you would never find me without bloody hands from working with needles so much. I've gotten better at it, of course.

I remember back at training when the District 12 boy asked me why my hands were covered in scars. It's kind of a thing back in 8. Getting pricked and scratched by needles and machines is like initiation to work. And, though it's a little messed up, that's just how life is.

What was 12's name again? I don't remember. I don't remember a lot of things about training.

My heart races and I leave the past behind. This is serious, and this is the moment. The moment… It's here.


Why is it we are here?

I don't understand why we were forced here.

I don't understand why the Capitol is taking it out on the teenagers, it's not like we were the ones to rebel. Sure, I know of some people who did, but… That's not the point!

I guess I can see why I was put here. My twin brother Orville was the leader of a rally gang of rebels, and we are identical, so I can see how they might mistake us. It's so clear to me… He and I and all of our friends took flags and signs and waved them around like crazy. I really didn't want to… I'm not exactly the most adventurous of people. He said it'd be fun, so I grabbed a flag and joined them.

I can't use my right arm. I've done everything in my power to help it, but, if you haven't guessed, it's a little hard to treat a gunshot wound in a poor place like District 6.

There are still some people that don't know: and I never want them to. I've learned to do everything with just my left hand. It's not convenient but it's all I can do.

Orville's still alive; he's rooting for me back home, I hope. I hope.


Where is it we will go?

What did they say again? And the Victor of this pageant will obtain riches, fame, and glory.

Riches, fame, glory. Nice words.

But, are they really worth the loss of 23 lives? They just might be.

I look around finally and wonder why nobody's stepped off yet. I try to think of what my stylist told me, but I can't remember. I've found that when I'm nervous, I twirl a lock of hair around my finger. Needless to say, my hair would be finger-curled by now if it wasn't so thick.

I twist my bangs around and around my pointer finger, biting my lip.

The District 2 tributes seem nice… Are we allowed to make alliances?

I'm left wondering where we are. They told me it's a dome, but where? We could be in the heart of District 1, and I wouldn't even know it. We… We could be in the ruins of District 13, and none of us would know, we'd all just be oblivious to the fact.

They say that they're constructing some kind of place for the Victors to live. Wonder where that will be…

I'm teeming with questions, until I realize that the clock is on 30 and I just completely zoned out. I have to focus on not the questions, but the answers I already know: which isn't a lot.


Will we just disappear?

I focus on the sky. I honestly don't want to see what's on the ground.

The sky is black and covered with wispy clouds. There are very few stars up there. There's a huge, full yellow moon, but clouds blow over it.

The breeze makes me shiver.

What will happen if I die? What will happen to the 23 of us that die? Will we be forgotten? Will we be honored?

Will I be spat upon?

Look, I'm no fool. My District wants me to win. They think I can do it.

I gulp and stare up at the stars again. My best friend Nate has really nice blue eyes. I mean, I think of them at the absolute worst times, and now is no exception. I blink repeatedly and they escape my mind again. When I look around again I see the girl from 3 watching me. She looks away just as the timer reaches 25.

Nate wanders into my thoughts again. Damn.

I'm only 13, for goodness sakes! Do you really think I can make it? Probably, maybe…


Where will the future lead?

What is Heaven like? Will I ever find out? What if I'm just destined to wander the earth for the rest of eternity? Now that's a scary thought right there. Just the thought of having to live in this wasteland for the rest of eternity is horrifying.

I hate this place; who doesn't?

My father died for a reason: to free this country. To get rid of the tyranny of the Capitol; to make a better life for his family. Me and my sister and my mom… He fought for us, and he died for us.

You could say he died for every single one of these kids. He died not just for District 5, but for every single one of the Districts, and everyone in them.

But, as our Main Trainer said, "In one week, 23 of you will be dead."

I look around at the teenagers who are called… What's the word… Sacrifices? No, that's not it.

Anyways, the little girl from 4 adjusts the ball cap on her head. The boy from 2 has his eyes focuses on the stars and I think he blinks tears out of his eyes. The girl from District 1 twirls her hair around her finger and untwists it again. The 8 girl sways from left to right on her metal plate. The 11 girl hops ever-so-slightly on her plate. The boy from 6 looks at his feet, and jumps each time a lightning bolt strikes. I finally realize that I'm not alone here. I'm not the only scared teenager that doesn't want to kill anyone here. Even the boy from 2: the District of weapons: seems to be scared out of his mind. I think the kid's crying. I have no idea where I'm going to end up, but I sure as hell hope that it's not here.


What will our future show?

Barley sounds like a girl's name.

It's my name. It's not a girl's name.

I'm Barley Weisman. Get it right.

I'm very much a boy; I'm 17, tall and thin with dirty blonde hair and gray eyes. Trust me, if I were even close to a girl, I'd know it.

Who will be the Victor of this Games? Who will be the sickko who ends up on top, killing 23 other people? Will it be me? I sure hope not.

Then again, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. I mean, I'd get food for my District, right?

Haha, probably not. The Capitol's promises are as hollow as this Arena. This scary, freaky, creepy dome that's called an "Arena."

The wind whistles, there are so many howls and whimpers of animals all around in the pitch black night.

CRASH! Lightning crashes and I see the silhouette of a dilapidated old house. I look around and see the horror on the other tributes' faces. My district partner Millie is shaking: literally jittering. I look away. How will we be able to kill these people? What will the future bring to us? Who will survive, who will die? I'm not sure what I want to happen to me…


How are we to proceed?

What do I do? What do I do?

I don't want to be the only one here to run away, but I don't want to be the only one who's actually killing people!

It's complicated, but I have 60 seconds to figure out what to do. A minute.

I mean… I don't want to be the only one who kills people. If the others are all still freaked out, they may not kill each other. But, I don't want to be the only one who murders the others. But, I don't want to be the idiot, either. I don't want to be the only one that doesn't kill. I don't want to die on the first day. Nobody wants to die on the first day.

It's all up to time, now. The future is a scary and mysterious place, and nobody knows what's coming next. I do not want to die on the first day. I can't, I won't. I don't know what measures I'm going to be forced to take, I don't know what the future holds, but I have to live in the present.

Present. Present. The clock's on 35. Here it goes. 30. I don't want to do this. I never want the future to come.

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