Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Fallen – Part I

Eleven died in the Cornucopia bloodbath; eleven whose names all of us do not even know. Who were they? How were their lives before the reaping like? What were on their minds as they drew their very last breath? If only we could take a glimpse through their eyes. If only we could venture into their deepest thoughts, then maybe they won’t be nameless after all.


Knocked out of breath, he found himself lying on his back, facing the boy with the dagger in hand. A smile spread across the boy’s face, as he leaned towards him and position his dagger behind his head.

“The first kill is mine,” the boy from district 1 said, as he swung the dagger towards his throat.

And before he could even cry a plea, he felt the cold smooth edge of the blade slid across his neck. The next few moments, as he struggled to breathe, he knew he was soon drawing his last breath. Even as the boy continued to stab him, he could not feel anything any longer.

And it was at his last attempt to hold onto his life that he saw her face. It was the face of his mother, widowed and soon to be childless. Who was going to look after her now? His only wish was that she didn’t have to watch him gasps for air, but that was inevitable.

I’m sorry, mom, he thought. I’m sorry I won’t be there for you anymore.

And that was the end of the nameless boy from district 8.


By the time she lost count at the number of times the girl had repeatedly brought her knife up and down into her body, all the pain she had been feeling had left. Was is the tenth time she was being stabbed? Her mind started to confuse her, as though it was giving up earlier than her beating heart.

She knew from the very beginning that she wasn’t going to survive the games, and the moment she left her home, she knew she would never see him again. Thankfully, even in her clouded mind, she managed to imagine his face one last time. His good looks and charming smile; she loved the way he would look at her and say her name. She loved how he would care for her and she recalled his promise to give her a good life. But now, she knew none of it could ever come true. Her love for him was dying as her body started to give way. If only she could tell him one last time that she loved him, but even a whisper she could not master.

Soon, it would be over. Just as his face faded from her, soon had arrived.

That was the end of the nameless girl from district 10.


He always thought that after his brother’s death, he could never be the son his parents wanted. But when he was chosen at the reaping, his doubts were cleared.

“You have made us proud. No matter what happens, know that we love you!” his mother shouted as they closed the door behind her.

As he stood alone in the poorly decorated room, tears started to roll down his cheeks.

And just as he felt the pain in his back going numb, and the warmth of his blood running from his throat, tears rolled down his cheeks. That was his last memory, and that was his mother’s last words. For a brief moment, he thought he was back in that room, with his arms wrapped around his father and mother, but when he snapped back to reality, he knew that that was a memory soon to be gone along with his soul.

If this was his end, then it was an end where he knew his parent’s were still proud of him. The end of the nameless boy from district 7 was not so emotionally painful after all.


She felt a shove, which made her stumble forward. She immediately lost her balance as she fell directly into the path of a career tribute who had a spear in his hand. Before she could even divert from his path, he threw the spear directly at her.

As though time had slowed down just for her to see her life flash through her eyes, she saw her best friends. Two girls whom she grew up with that not only taught her the world, but shared every moment with her. Will things be different without her? Or would they carry on with their lives as though nothing had happened? Out of all the emotions she was feeling, all that was bothering her was whether they would remember her.

Unfortunately, before she could convince herself that they would, the spear penetrated her heart and that was the end of the nameless girl from district 7.


He was like a little brother to her, so she knew she had to protect him. When she was twelve, the eight year old boy would tail her where ever she went. He was like her shadow, constantly following her and looking up to her. She did not blame him as his family was as broken as hers. Her father was always having affairs, and his mother had left him when he was just a toddler. With the lack of one parent, they immediately connected and became the brother and sister they did not have.

She loved him as much as he loved her, and when they were both chosen, they knew that they would have to protect each other to the death. But neither of them knew it would happen so soon.

When the boy from district 2 slashed his machete at her, she yelled, “Run!”

She saw her sworn brother hesitate, and she shouted at him again, “Run! Go!”

Immediately, the boy from district 2 held onto her head smashed it against the crates. Her last hope was that he would live, and as she watched him through her deteriorating vision, she silently prayed for him with her last breath.

Running as fast as he could, he could feel his hot tears running down his cheeks. He knew she was dying, or dead, and he could not do anything. He didn’t want to run, and he would rather die by her side, but his legs did not stop as he did what she told him to.

Thinking that he could finally get away, he felt strong hands grabbing on to him, and just as he shut his eyes, he felt something sharp, cold and wet come down on his neck. Silently, he prayed he would see her soon, and that they would be together again.

That was the end of the nameless girl and boy from district 3.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Xion Academy For Boys

“Why do I have to go?” he asked.

“It’s your birthday present. Why wouldn’t you want to go?” his mother replied with a smile.

“But I like the school I’m going to now,” he said, ready to start whining.

“Don’t you dare start young man, Xion academy has better facilities. It’ll make you better and more ready when the time comes,” his father quickly joined in on the conversation.

“But I heard they will make me do things, things I dont want to do.”

“You need to toughen up boy. I’ve already pulled some strings to make sure you have a place in the 74th games.” His father then turned to him and looked him in the eye. “I paid a lot of money for this.”

Sighing, he nodded in reply. If his father had paid a lot of money, he should go and try to make his parents proud. And since he was finally thirteen, he told himself to start acting like a responsible adult.

The following day, he put on his new black and silver custom tailored suit. And before he entered the car, he shook his father’s hand, and gave his mother a kiss.

“We will see you during the weekends, O.K honey?” his mother said as she smiled broadly at him.

“Bye,” he replied, sliding into the backseat and waving at them as his driver drove further and further away from the gigantic mansion he called home.

Xion Academy was a one hour drive from home, in the heart of District 2. It was a huge school, with superb and detailed stonework, one of which he had not seen before.

As the car pulled up the driveway, a woman in black ushered him into the academy and led him straight to the headmaster’s office. After waiting briefly, a man walked into the room and took his seat.

“Before you start classes, we need to give you a test,” the headmaster, a balding middle-aged man, spoke.

“Sure. I’m ready. What do I have to do?” he asked confidently.

“Follow me,” the man said as he got up. Quickly following after him, he found himself walking along hallways and down staircases. By the time he reached a small room, he started to wonder how big the academy was.

As the headmaster pointed to a glass door in the marble walled room, he said, “Behind this door is an arena.”

“You want me to fight someone?” he asked excitedly.

“I want you to make sure that THAT someone doesn’t get up again.”

“What do you mean?”

“The person you are to face is a no good-er. You know what to do with these kind of people, don’t you?”

He finally understood what he had to do, but he still wasn’t sure. Was he being asked to kill someone?

“You want me to kill him?”

“There are nicer ways of putting it. Let’s just say we want you to terminate him. Good luck.” And with that, the headmaster left the room.

Unsure on what to do next, he slowly headed to the glass door and pushed it open. Taking a step into the big arena, he spotted his opponent.

His opponent was a tall, rather skinny man. His eyes were bloodshot red and when he turned to face him, he looked very ready for a fight.

Hesitating on his next move, he eyed the skinny man.Then taking a quick glance around the arena, he spotted weapons laying on the ground near him, and glass panels a storey higher, that made him sure he was being watched.

Straightening up, and putting on a brave face, he picked up two long blades and charged towards the man. To his surprise, the man didn’t charge back, but he ran instead. And being that he was younger and in better shape, he caught up with him and pounced onto his back, pinning the man on the ground immediately.

Then, as he placed his blades below the man’s throat, ready to slit him dry, the man pleaded, “Please boy, don’t do this. I have a son at home, just like you.”

For a brief moment, he hesitated. He thought about his father and his mother, and then he looked up at the glass panels. And as though he could see through it, he imagined the people in it nodding at him to finish the job.

“Please boy, you are not a killer,” the man said, trying to hold his head higher up, away from the blades.

“How do you know?” he asked with a laugh.

“Because… because…”

“Wrong answer,” he said as he pulled the blades across each other, slitting the man’s throat before he could finish his answer.

In all honestly, he didn’t want to hear what the man had to say. He was rather afraid of the truth, because all his life, he was told what to do and how to do it. He never knew who he really was, just that he was made to kill and to bring his family glory.

As he stood up from body of the man, lying in a pool of blood, he hoped that someone would reassure him that he was doing the right thing, and when the voice over the speaker spoke, he got what he had hoped for.

“I’m proud of you Cato.”

“Dad?” he asked immediately.

“Yes. And your mother is here too. Lets celebrate shall we?”

Smiling to himself, Cato didn’t care if all he knew was murder, because it made his parents proud.