Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Fallen – Part II

Eleven died in the 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.


Running away from the Cornucopia, he saw the buffed up boy from district 1 aiming a machete at him. Being too late to dodge out of the way, the machete flew right towards him and sunk its heavy blade into his chest. Oddly, he could not feel a thing. As it happened so quickly, and the moments later so slowly, he found himself falling to the ground, as though in a dream.

The moment he touched the grass, his vision was already blurring and he couldn’t remember what he was trying so hard to recall. But at the back of his head, he could hear his voice calling to him.

“I’m proud of you, son.” His father’s voice echoed in his head. And that was all he wanted to hear from his father who never said a word. Soon, the voice stopped and so did his heart.

That was the end of the nameless boy from district 9.


The searing pain rose to her thighs as she saw the gash in her legs. Screaming in pain, she did not sense the presence of another tribute, who came from behind her and stabbed her in the back. Immediately, she fell to the ground as she bled profusely. No one came to end her life, and no one came to her aid. Yet she knew she was going to die as the amount of blood oozing from her wounds started soaking into the ground beneath her, making the ground wet, as though it had just rained blood.

“Please don’t let me die,” she muttered repeatedly.

Then, out from the corner of her eyes, she saw her fellow district tribute, who briefly stared right at her as he hid in between the supply crates.

“Help me,” she mouthed.

But the boy merely stared, frightened to the very core.

Should he go? He asked himself. Should he help her? He remembered the day she risked her life trying to pull him out from under a train engine. He was playing with his friends when it happened, and she was there with her father. He had no idea how he got stuck, but when he realized it, they were ready to test run the engine. He knew that if she did not go under the train and yanked him out, the two electromagnetic fields would have blown him to bits.

Finally deciding he should attempt to help the girl, he was confronted with the boy from district 2, who immediately took him by the head. At that very second, he did not even hear his own head snap.

Watching from the distance, she knew he was gone, and finally giving up, she too accepted her fate. At least she saved his life once, and that was one good deed she could amount to.

Those were the crossing ends of the nameless boy and girl from district 6.


She was a pretty face. Everyone said so. She was going to be in pageants and win crowns with her high cheek bones and beautiful eyes. But when she was named tribute, all of those dreams were flushed down the drain. Beauty could do her nothing in the hunger games, and yet she still paid more attention to her face than to her skills.

It was only during the bloodbath did she realize that her pretty face made her no friends and did not make her any more prettier inside. As she felt the sickle slash across her face, all she could think about was how she would look like. And it was during then that she saw how shallow she had lived her life.

As she touched her face, she wasn’t sure if it was her tears that was blurring her vision or if she was dying. And as everything started to fade away, all she saw was herself, in a beautiful dress, with a crown on top of her head, and her face so brutally scarred. It was then that she asked herself if all she ever wanted before the games mattered, and it was only then that she realized she had lived such a worthless life. If only I could turn back time, she thought a final thought.

That was the end of the nameless girl from district 3, who realized too late that no one could live life twice.


He felt his hands around his neck, and the harder he struggled to free himself, the faster he felt his strength leaving him. He was about to die, and he knew it. As the hands around his neck started to loosen, he recalled of the day his baby brother grabbed onto his neck and attempted to strangle him in a game.

“You cannot strangle me baby brother,” he said to the toddler with bright blue eyes.

“I monster!” his brother shouted happily.

“No, you’re not a monster,” he said, as he tackled his brother gently and tickled him.

“Now, now, you have plenty of time to play later. Time to get ready for the reaping,” his mother interrupted.

The reaping, he thought. The reaping led him straight to his death. Here he was, hoping that it was his harmless baby brother strangling him, and in the back of his head, all he could hear was his hearty child laughter. He always wanted a brother, and now that he had one, he was never going to get to know him better.

In the very last second of his life, he hoped that his brother would be spared from the games and that he would not have to be the monster he innocently claimed to be. He hoped his future would be different.

I love you baby brother, he thought. And that was the end of the nameless boy from district 5.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

The Unperformed Dance

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven and eight. Again!”

On the count of her dance teacher, she twirled, jumped, landed and pose gracefully, over and over again.

“Very good Joules!” her teacher exclaimed as she clapped her hands. “One more time and we’re done for today.”

Joules did the sequence once more and as she posed she smiled widely, before breaking into a squel.

“I can’t believe I’ve gotten it! Do you think I have a chance at winning?” Joules asked her dance teacher excitedly.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Mother would be so proud,” Joules said to herself.

“Yes, your mother would have been so proud,” her dance teacher replied before pointing to the door, where her father stood.

“Thank you Ms. Carly. I’ll see you on Saturday!” Joules said as she jogged towards her father.

“Come prepared. And good luck with the reaping! You better not be chosen now,” Ms. Carly said jokingly as she waved goodbye.

As Joules followed her father to the car, she expressed her day’s accomplishments excitedly. While her father merely smiled and patted her on her should.

“Mother would be proud, so very proud, don’t you think?” Joules asked as they entered the car and made their way home.

“Yes, she would be.”

“Did you take the weekend off for my performance?”

“Of course I did,” her father said as he kept his eyes on the road.

“Great! I can’t believe I have finally mastered mother’s routine. Now I can show it to the world!” Joules was still pumping with excitement, that she did not even worry about the reaping that would take place the next day.

Being that Joules grew up in a wealthy home, where her father co-owned the biggest electric company in the district, she never had to put in her name in for tessarae, and every year, during the reaping, she never once thought she would be chosen.

This year was no different. To her, the reaping was just another boring day where she had to assemble in front of the justice building while they chose the poorer children who never really had a life to begin with. You could say she was a pretty spoiled brat, especially after the death of her mother, as her father began showering gifts just to please her.

But it was strange that this year, her father had been acting rather uptight and jumpy when the reaping came up in discussion. Joules had the urge to ask, but she decided not to upset her father any further, until she heard him over the phone that very same night.

“I’ll have the money, just leave her out of it!” her father whispered harshly over the phone.

Leaning closer to the gap in the office door, Joules strained her ears, hoping she could catch what the person on the other line was saying.

“I SAID I would have the money by tomorrow! I’ll give it to you after the reaping!” her father continued.

Peeking through the gap, Joules watched as her father started pacing up and down the mahogany themed office.

“Don’t threaten me. You know I only have one daughter, she’s all I have left.”

At the sound of her involvement, Joules immediately burst into the office, staring at her father who looked shock at her presence.

“What is going on father?” Joules quickly asked.

“I’ll call you back,” her father said on the phone before hanging up.

“Who was that?” Joules continued.

“That was,” he hesitated.

“Is everything alright?”

“Joules, we are in trouble,” her father simply replied.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Money troubles with the capitol.” Her father looked away in embarrassment, trying to keep his composure as he continued in a whisper, “I have failed you Joules. I have failed your mother. Now they’re going to take everything from us, they even threatened to take you!”

Her father was shaking and Joules quickly helped him onto the velvet sofa before he collapsed.

“They can’t take me from you,” Joules said, hoping it would comfort him.

“They can. They say if I don’t give them their money, they are going to put you into this year’s hunger games.”

“What? They can’t do that? How much do you owe them?” Joules tried to hide the panic in her voice. She had never trained for the hunger games her entire life, and she knew she wouldn’t survive one day in the games.

“A lot of money,” her father replied as he buried his face in his hands.

“But you told them you have the money right? Father, I can’t go into the hunger games, I won’t survive! All I know how to do is dance. Father, you…” her voice trailed off when she saw the look on her father’s face as he looked up at her.

He was at a dead end. There was no more hope in his eyes. They were finished.

“We can run away,” her father suddenly spoke urgently, as he stood up and grabbed her by the wrist. “We can leave and they won’t find us!”

“What? No! They will kill us both if they find us! There’s no way we can outrun them,” Joules said as she tugged her father back into reality.

As he finally turned to face her, he fell on his knees and wept. Embracing him in a hug, Joules didn’t know what to do. Through his desperate cry, her father apologized, “I’m so sorry Foxie, I’m so sorry.”

It looks like she wouldn’t be performing on Saturday after all, nor would she ever dance her mother’s unperformed routine. She was going to have to take this one for her father. And maybe, just maybe, they might not read her name tomorrow, during the reaping.

But if they did, she knew she was a smart one, after all, she always thought herself to be as sly as her father and as sneaky as her mother. They did not nickname her Foxie for no reason.