SHORT Remake of the Hunger Games!!

Let the Games Begin!

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the 100th Hunger Games are about to begin! This year we have..." The announcer's voice echo's throughout the arena. I let it drone on, the sound pounding in my body, ringing in my mind. I imagine somewhere far away, his voice his uninteligible over the shouts of millions of Capitol pedigree citizens. I look for the clock.

60 seconds. 59 seconds. 58 seconds...

I sigh, and decide to look around my surroundings. I'm shocked. I don't think this has ever been used before. We are in ruins. Ruins of an old village, city, maybe. Most of the buildings are made of rough looking stone bricks. But the village isn't very big because I can see green not too far off, the type of green that only trees can be. The Cornucopia is gleaming in the high-up sun. I cover my eyes from the glare and try to pick out some of the weapons. I see a boy, some daggers, two spears and only one sword. The blood bath will be terrible because only a few tributes will have sufficient weapons against each other. Other than that, there are a few back packs, a couple wooden clubs, and a couple of other items I can't identify from here.

40 seconds. Tick. 39. Tock. 38. Tick.

I look away from the clock, but I can still here it clicking away. Tick. Tock. Tick. Counting down to my death, second by slow, painful second. I stare at the rest of the tributes. A couple of Careers are jumping up and down, stretching, and practicing strikes to kill. I shiver and look at somebody else. A boy from District 4 has a small object. A seashell engraved with his district's emblem. He is the only Career not pumped up. But he didn't volunteer. I don't think anybody did this year-that is usually just for the older ones.

20 seconds. 19 seconds. 18. I'm. about. to. die. I'm not scared. I don't want to die, but I've been prepped up for the past week for this and once my name was drawn I accepted that fate. Twenty-three die. Only one survives. It's usually not the tiny, weak little girl from a terribly poor, outlying district. Actually... It's never happened.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! We have 10 seconds on the clock, countdown, please!
Ten! Nine! Eight!..."

Here we go. Cornicopia. No. Forest, no, back pack! No! Where to go, where to go?

"Five! Four! Three! Tw-" The countdown is drowned out by an explosion. Only a few plates down from me. I throw my hands to my ears with most of the other tributes. I hear a few screams. I'm surprised no body fainted. But no one wants what just happened happen to them. All ready one tribute is dead. District 4 boy. Dropped his token, the seashell. I look away as a hovercraft picks up some piece of him. But I don't look away soon enough to miss seeing only three fingers on a limp, bloody hand.