SHORT Remake of the Hunger Games!!

Let the Games Re-Begin

"Well, that certainly is a twist to this twisted 100th Hunger Games! It seems that Seth Greenwalsh of District 4 had dropped his token, a marvelous seashell, off of his plate, detonating the bombs that lay beneath!" The District 4 girl, Atella, threw herself to her plate, her hands over her eyes, but her hands don't cover up the stream of liquid pouring off of her cheeks, or her shoulders shaking up and down in between her sobs and her harsh breathing. The careers stopped stretching and practicing. They all actually looked kind of somber of this. A few had tears in their eyes. I know I did. And they were making my vision blurry and objects look distorted. I sniffle, wipe my eyes, and look away from the boys remains. . I turn away from the gruesome pile of khakis, and black material. This is what we are all wearing. Khaki pants, a black t-shirt and a grey, fitted jacket. As the hovercraft finished up, The clock went back to 10 seconds. I saw a small back pack that I could grab on the way to the trees, which I have finally decided that is where I'm headed. I know the Careers will inspect the buildings for surprises, and a few others will try to find shelter in an abounding building. No. I will go as far away as possible.

The gong sounded, hurting my ears, and I sprint lightly away from the Cornucopia, but not too far that I will have no hope for getting a back pack. I chance a glance to my right and see Atella quickly murdered by who I think is a District 7 boy with an axe to the head. I don't think she tried. Once Seth was gone, so was she. "District 12! Your next!" I see the boy wrench the axe from Atella's head and run towards me. I hear a sharp whistle coming behind me so I dive towards the back pack. It soars right over me and I do a quick somersault to grab the orange bag and quickly run again. The boy screams in pain and I look behind me. The District 8 boy falls to the ground, and behind him Thomas appears, yanking a long, bloody spear out of District 8 boy's chest. Thomas glares at me, but I know he just protected me. I owe him. A lot. He turns and runs another way, and so do I. I find the thrown axe and I go back for the back pack and I race threw the street, the screams of innocent children pounding, echoing, filling my mind with numbness and horror.