Anastasia wrote::o I'm writing a Snow's Granddaughter fanfic as well-I just haven't posted itn
Anyway, this is really good
neuron6 wrote:Just something I thought of and decided to write. This is my first fanfiction, so it might not be too good. Please give me your honest opinion! Thanks!
The Final Hunger Games: Chapter 1
Everything was fine until a week ago. Then Grandfather died and it all fell apart. My home, life… everything.
About a year and a half ago, Grandfather came home rather more agitated than usual. I thought nothing of it, since he’s often irritable. It’ll be gone tomorrow, I thought. But it wasn’t. He grew more and more upset, sometimes locking himself in his room for hours, sometimes screaming at me for no reason. The latter hurt me deeply. Grandfather Coriolanus had never yelled at me before. I kept telling myself it was just something that was bothering him and tat it would pass. After all, he was the President; there were a lot of difficult activities in his job. But I couldn’t help myself from trying to find out what was bothering him.
One night, I followed Grandfather when he took his weekly walk to give orders to the Peacekeepers. When I looked in, I saw him talking with Romulus Thread, a thin, odious man who ordered all the Peacekeepers.
“Thread, extra units to Eleven,” Grandfather was saying to Thread, who proceeded to relay the orders into a radio. “And I want you to go oversee Twelve personally. The last thing we need is a rebellion there as well.”
I went back to bed, my head spinning. The districts were in rebellion. The Capitol was in danger. I couldn’t sleep very well that night. Or very many other nights for half of a year. Then I could barely sleep at all. There were sounds- very faint, but there nonetheless- of explosions.
Only a few days later, there were huge explosions right outside my window. Grandfather ran into my room. That’s when I knew it was serious. Minutes later, there were rebels marching in. “Andrea, run!” shouted Grandfather. Where he meant, I didn’t know. Perhaps it was just a cry of panic.
Whatever he meant, moments later we were both on a hovercraft, heading toward, or so the rebels said, District 13.
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest