She did not think she would be chosen, of all the people in the village she had thought certainly someone else would be picked. After all she was only 14 years old who in their right mind would authorize such a gruesome and heinous activity for entertainment. Not only was she a mere child; she had no family. Her mother was murdered in a freak accident and her father disappeared on a journey years ago. She thought the village people would spare here anymore agony, spare her the torment and experience of the child death war show.

Annabelle was always quiet and to herself, she was always reading and writing in some book. She wore dark clothing and a cloak all the time; and barely spoke a word to anyone. Suppose the villagers wanted her out of the way, maybe they didn’t want her around, maybe they didn’t want to take care of some orphan. Annabelle accepted her fate without much fuss although it seemed you could feel the rage and pressure emitting from her as if she burst into a flame of hate.

She was told could bring just one item along with her; one non lethal item, no weapons. Of corse this choice was simple considering she had nothing other than the clothes on her back and her book. She never when anywhere without it; it was covered in black leather with silver filigree adorning the corners and a silver lock puzzle mechanism near the fore edge of the book. The jewels seemed to change on different occasions and she carried it like a backpack or side pouch.

Annabelle wished the villagers hadn’t chose her, she needed to mourn her mother, eventually set out and look for her missing father, maybe discover herself. She didn’t want this; to be apart of a mindless bloodshed competition, she longed for a family and peace.

“Ladies and gentlemen let the 88th Hunger Games begin. And may the odds be ever in your favor” beep beep beep beep

Those were the last words to be heard coming from the loud speakers above. Those were the last words any of them ever spoke again; as a massive fireball engulfed a blacked out radio tower above controlling post of the lights, weather and speakers of the battle dome.

Annabelle stood still and grinned with her cloak covering her small frame and hood still shrouding her face. With the book still open in her one hand she calmly turned to the right and glanced up at another blacked out tower and said, once again “fireball”.