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 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.


A Week and One Third

Hey guys!

You have 9 more days to submit your short stories for a chance to win a copy of my e-book, The Dreamer! Your story would also be featured here with a customized banner 🙂

So be sure to post them in the comments of THIS post, with all the information required, by the 14th of July, 2012.

I’m really looking forward to reading some awesome stories, so get your thinking caps on and let that imagination of yours soar!

Till next time, enjoy this weeks fan fiction and the newest chapter of Dreamworld!

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.

Fan Fiction (Shorts)


Some said she was a weird child, others said she was disturbed. To be frankly honest, she was both. Often times, you would see her sitting by the pond, throwing knives at the frogs. And every time she hits one, she would smile. She was already like that even before she started her training, and the family that adopted her when she was 8, accepted her the way she was.

You see, she was born in a poor family, with a mother who would take beatings from her father. Sometimes, her father would even take it out on her.

He would take scorching hot rods and jab them at the young innocent girl. But even with that little mind of hers, she realized that if she stopped crying, and pretended that it didn’t hurt, her father would start wearing an expression of utmost confusion, one of which she enjoyed watching.

But the more she became expressionless, the more pain her father would inflict on her. Even her mother dared not stop him when he started hammering nails into her thighs. It would have been a very disturbing experience for most children, but oddly enough, she didn’t feel a thing, and the blood that came oozing out from her wounds felt good.

Finally, when the neighbors saw the burnt marks, the bruises and scars on her little body, they reported her father to the peacekeepers and he was sent away. Her mother, who was not in a proper state to look after her, was forced to watch as the peacekeepers took the little girl of the age of 7 to an orphanage.

There, she spent a year playing by herself, collecting sharp objects and staring at the other children till they were all so scared of her. Every family that came to see the children always asked about that little girl, who sat by the corner by herself. But every time they asked, they leave with no intentions of adopting her. It was at the mention of her horrific background that people were turned off.

One year later, a rich family, with no children of their own, decided to adopt a child. Their intentions were clear as they told the people who worked in the orphanage.

“We don’t want an ordinary kid. We want to raise a career tribute kid.”

And it was then that they were directed straight to the weird little girl, who did not stir any problems when she was told to follow the elderly man and woman.

When she was brought to her new home, she was lavished with new clothes, new toys and a huge bedroom. The elderly couple gave her everything, even though she he did not ask for anything. And when they saw that she was finally ready, they sent her to a special school to be trained.

One evening, on her 12th birthday, she asked her adopted parents one question, “Why did you adopt me?”

“Well, because we need someone to accompany us, and to make us proud,” her foster mother replied.

“O.K. Can I have a new set of knives for my birthday?” she replied.

“I’ll bring you to town tomorrow, you can pick them out,” her foster father replied from behind the daily newspaper.

And that was how she spent all her birthdays. She would ask the same question, followed by something she wanted, and her requests would be met.

But on her 15th birthday, she made a different request.

“Why did you adopt me?” she asked as usual.

“You know why my dear, to make us proud,” her foster mother replied pleasantly, not at all annoyed at the same question she was asked every year.

“Then, can I join this year’s hunger games?”

“You can volunteer if you like?” her foster father suggested, smiling broadly.

“No. I don’t want to volunteer. I don’t want people to think I’m ready,” she replied quickly.

“Then what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to pay them money to lie during the reaping,” she ordered.

“I don’t know about that my child, it’s a tricky thing to mess with the reaping process,” her foster father said.

“Maybe you can wait till you are eighteen, and then you can volunteer. It would make us both very proud of you?” her foster mother quickly added.

“I’m ready now. And you two are getting older, you might die before I turn eighteen,” she answered coldly.

It was no surprise to her foster parents that she spoke to them in such a way. As she grew older, she felt as though she was entitled to everything, and when she was given what she asked for, she became the spoiled, and rather sadistic brat.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” her foster father finally gave in.

“Good. I would also need a dress for the reaping,” she added.

“We will go look for one tomorrow. Is there anything else you need Clove?” her mother asked.

“No. That’s all for now,” Clove said, as she gathered the knives she was polishing on the table and headed to the garden to throw them at more frogs.


Fairy Dust & Nightlock Essence

Look what I made! Can you guess where the fairy dust is from?

I forgot to publish this earlier, so here goes!

600 subscribers! Thank you all for subscribing to me. I truly appreciate your support, even though you may or may not check out my stories every week. It’s good to know you think I’m worth your time 🙂

A small update. There will be changes in the way I’m posting up my stories. As you may have seen, I published a polling post a while back, to understand my readers, and the response was pretty good. I see that there are quite a number of HP fans who are HG fans as well! And for those who answered the polls, thank you!

So, what I’m going to do is this. The Joanna fan fic will run as usual, every forth nightly, until it ends, while the short fan fics will alternate between Harry Potter and Hunger Games. Once a month, you would get one short HP fan fic, and one short HG fan fic. Sounds good?

At the same time, my originals would be posted up every week, and for those who have subscribed, you would get the passwords via email. Trust me, it is going to be good 🙂

Be sure to also participate in the weirdest dream contest (more info in Dream World Chapter 3), to stand a chance to win a free pass into Dream World!

Till next time, Happy Easter!


The Need to Know YOU Better

This post is dedicated to you! Cause I want to know you, my fellow readers, better!

I have been contemplating on posting up Hunger Games fan fictions because I’ve been asking myself, do my readers like The Hunger Games too? Would they unsubscribe to me if they don’t have their dose of Harry Potter fan fictions every week?

These questions make me hold back some of my other fan fictions.

So, if you could help me out and let me know what you like, please answer the polls below ONLY if you are a subscriber of this blog :

If you have anything else you would like to say, please do so in the comments below 🙂

A special announcement: I would be putting up original works soon, in the form of a mini series. It is already written and I’m just waiting for the right time to publish them. However, I wont be giving the entire series out for free, but, I am planning to give a few subscribers the CHANCE to win them for free. More details would be out soon. If you would like to stay on top of it, make sure to visit my fan page 🙂

Fan Fiction (Shorts)

Daddy’s Little Girl

He never wanted this for her. He never wanted it for any of his children, but now that his daughter was finally of age, he wished she was never born.

But it was too late to go back now. His little girl has been trying to survive in an arena full of teenagers much more well trained than she was. And as the father of the girl whose late mother he had promised to protect, he couldn’t watch.

“Turn the broadcast off Reg,” he told his son.

“Dad,” Reg replied, not bothering to finish up his sentence.

“I don’t want to watch this,” he said to his oldest son, who went through 6 years of the reaping and was lucky enough not to be chosen.

“I need to know if she is safe dad,” Reg replied softly.

He shook his head in reply as he headed to his room immediately. As he slumped into his bed, he pulled open the side table drawer and took out a stack of letters.

As he untied the bundle, he took the first letter. It was the newest letter she had written to him. And though some may find it odd, but the bond he shared with his daughter was through the letters they wrote each other, which they would slip under their bedroom door from time to time.

Pulling out the brown crumpled paper, the neat handwriting immediately brought tears to his eyes.

“Dear daddy,

Today is my first reaping. I’m scared as hell, but Reg and Rave told me that the odds would be in my favor, cause there’s only one paper with my name on it. So I think I would be fine. But just in case I get chosen, I just want to say a few things.

1) I’m sorry I broke your picking pole. Yes, it was me. I lied to you when I said a dog did it. But I didnt mean to break it though. It was an accident, I swear. I hope you would forgive me.

2) I want to say thank you, for all you have done for Reg, Rave and me. I know I can be stubborn sometimes, so thank you for not getting mad every time I don’t do what you say.

3) I love you so much. And I love writing letters to you, and reading yours over and over again. I know I’m twelve this year and I should start acting my age, but I won’t ever stop writing you letters.

4) If I do get chosen for the hunger games, please don’t be sad. I am fast and I am good with trees, so I think I have a chance of surviving, and when I do win, I’ll come home with a lot of money, and you don’t have to work so hard anymore.

I think that is all. I’m going to put on that pretty dress you got for me now. I know I’m going to look prettier than most girls with the dress you bought. But I think you shouldn’t have wasted money on that, we could buy more bread with the money.

Anyways, I’ll be waiting for your reply!

Love, your only daughter, Rue.”

Immediately, he broke into tears. He couldn’t understand how her innocents could make her so strong and brave for a twelve year old. But as he reread the letter, he could see how alike she was to her mother, independent, courageous and loving. Yes, she definitely has a chance of winning, because she was his brave daughter.

Grabbing a piece of paper from the drawer, he started to write a reply letter.

“My lovely Rue,

I love you so much. So much more than you could ever imagine. I am so proud to have a daughter like you, who is not only as beautiful as your mother, but as brave and kind-hearted.

My naughty girl, I have already forgiven you, cause I knew you broke the picking pole. You can’t lie to me even if you tried so hard, because I know you too well! And I love writing letters to you too. I really hope you don’t grow out of it when you get older.

I know you would try your best to win the hunger games, but even if you don’t, remember that you have made us all so proud of you, not just our family, but the entire district.

I hope to see you soon because I miss you so much!

Please come home Rue. Daddy wants his little girl home.”

With that, he wiped the tears off his cheeks, folded the letter, slipped it into an old envelop, and strode over to his daughter’s room.

While his two sons watched him, he took a deep breath, slipped the letter under her bedroom door and turned to his sons as he said, “She’ll be coming home. I know she will.”

(I watched the Hunger Games today, and Rue’s death made me cry. At the end of the day, I couldn’t help but write something for her. So, this is in honor of Rue.)


Two Hundred and Beyond

Today, I hit the 200 subscribers mark 🙂

I would tag each of my subscriber but 200 is way too many now!

Of course, I would still like to thank each of you personally, for reading and giving me feedback. I would like to thank you for not unsubscribing, which is painful to see when the count on my site stats drop. I would also like to thank you for your support and kind words. It has helped me write better, no doubt. It has been a blessing to have all of you, faithfully reading my blog’s content.

Though 200 may be a pretty number, but I would love for it to increase. Heck, as high as the subscriber count can go, so is my wish of having more readers to enjoy and be entertained by the stories I write on this blog.

So if you think my stories are good enough, feel free to share them. I only wish to give as many people a chance to escape into fantasy, even if its for a brief 800-words moment.

Also, I’m planning for a writing contest, where you will stand a chance at winning a copy of my new book! It would be coming up early next year, so be sure to keep a lookout for that 🙂

Well, till the next fantastical journey we shall embark on, have a great day!

(P.s If you have a goodreads account, do vote for my fan fiction, Not My Brother, at this link. I’m trying to win myself a free book :))