My Experience In The Hunger Games

Just because I'm telling this story, doesn't mean I'm alive. In these wretched Games, anyone can die, at any time, at any age. I may be one of the youngest, but I am exception.


My heart gradually increased beating as I leave my small, run down tenement. It was a shabby place to live, but then again, who in District 7 really owned anything better? Even some of the big families, like mine, had smaller houses than they needed.

My family was fortunate enough to not have any of our 5 kids get Reaped yet. Jessica, the eldest, was now 21 and working 2 jobs. Danielle, second to oldest, was 19, working a single job. My mother had celebrated Danielle's 19th birthday festively, because it was the end of her eligibility to be Reaped. Then there is Alexandria, my 17 year old sister, who'd just recently gotten her 3rd job, and then my only brother, Johnathan, who's 16.

I'm the youngest, and therefor, the most used, most adored, and the one they treat like a child, no matter how mature I may be.

I don't know where exactly I'm going, I just know that I'm...going. Escaping the tension in my home for at least a little while. At least I could clear my head and relax. My parents, sitting in silence and looking stony faced, Danielle and Jessica, watching over me protectively, as if watching me like a hawk would ensure that I wouldn't get Reaped. It was better being outside, breathing in the industrial fumes, than in the eerily silent house that wouldn't be home again until the Reaping was over.

I look down at my feet as I walk, as if my black boots would change colour, or become interesting in some other way. I notice a patch in my boot that my sister, Alexandria made when she wore these. She'd probably worn these when she was my age.

Another downside in being the youngest of 5, I think bitterly, All the things I own are hand-me-downs.

My deep brown eyes, my brown hair, my odd birthmark on my finger- all of these things were hand-me-downs, passed from DNA. My father's naturally tan skin had been passed down to Jessica, Danielle, Johnny, and myself. While Alexandria got the light skin tone from my mother.

I hated being just another copy. A final draft, if you will. I am the final Sadler, the last, the smallest. But, fortunately, I have everything from my family. In each sibling, they had some personality. I, in turn, had a piece of all of their personalities. But unfortunately, that made me two-faced and complex.

I finally stopped walking when an ache in my leg told me to stop. I look around and see I hadn't gone far. I was a fast sprinter for a short period of time, but if I go any further, I can't be fast. I can be fast for half a minute, so fast it's actually very impressive.

I sigh when I think of going back to the house, where Jessica would fret about making me look pretty, and Danielle would just watch me sadly, and try to make her funniest jokes for my benefit.

Jonathan would probably focus on training at home. When I left he was doing push ups with his ankles crossed over each other, and I heard him counting "32, 33, 34," under his breath.

Jonathan is muscular, but not bulky. He's lean and fast, and I wouldn't be that worried if he were in the Hunger Games. He has good aim, with knives, and he has attempted archery, it took him a while but he hit the target.

The ground is uneven and hard to walk on, but I still make it home shortly. Sure, this walk was pointless and short, but I still got to get out of the house. But now, I knew it was close to the Reaping time, so I should get ready anyway.

I open the wooden, heavy front door and see everyone look up quickly. My whole family is sitting in the living room, looking ready and alert, and way more pretty than usual.

As I expected, Jessica jumps up at once and grabs my arm, taking me to the bathroom. Water is strict, like everything else here, so she takes some leftover water from this morning, and uses it to wash my hair. I don't fight back, even though I usually don't like things being done for me.

She then brushes my hair dry and uses lots of hair products and pins to keep my usually very curly hair straight.

She thankfully let me dress myself, and I found a dark green, flow-y dress that I could stand. I kept my boots on and left my room, but as soon as Jessica saw what I was wearing, she steered my back inside and found a black ribbon, tied it around my waist, and said, "At least the black here matches the black on your toes," referring to my boots.

Soon, we all left, silent. I spotted Johnatahn turning to look at the house meaningfully, as if it would be the last time he saw it. I frowned.

Jessica gripped one of my hands, and Danielle grabbed the other. I felt Alexandria's hands on my shoulders, and Jonathan just kept his face solemn as he walked. My Mother was sniffling quietly, and my Father was holding her hand dearly.


Naturally, my muscles tightened and my heart beat picked up as they plucked out the female tribute. The male tribute was already Chosen, he was an 18 year old boy I recognized as Johnathan's friend, Chase Ratten. Chase was a nice boy with curly black hair and dimples, and pretty blue eyes. I felt so bad for him, because he was always so sweet to everyone. Tears trickled silently down his cheeks.

"Madeline Sadler." All my sympathy for Chase was lost. The only sympathy I felt was for the 12 year old Madeline Sadler, the daughter of Joanie Sadler, the designer, and David Sadler, the factory worker. The only sympathy I felt was for me, the female tribute from District 8. Taking place in the 73rd Annual Hunger Games.