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by Hunter
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comedy
hungergames
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GALE
Gale calls me Catnip. I have the slightest of problems with it, as I don't feel like being compared to anything relating to cats, and my only contact with something remotely cat is Buttercup, so my impression on them isn't the best. Gale calls me Catnip anyway.
My name is Katniss, and it sounds similar to Catnip. It did not help when a lynx began to follow me when I hunted, and in the end, I killed it. No, not in an effort to rid of the nickname, definitely not. It was in an effort of killing it for trade, and to stop my prey from running away. It was good company; I missed it.
Today, Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow protruding through it like it’s made of gold.
“I shot this,” he says, seemingly in awe. Wow, Gale. That’s great. Now tell me how funny you are again.
I take it and pull the arrow out. A filthy arrow ruining the perfectly fine piece of bread. Gale is something else. I throw the arrow back at him. The bread- it’s still warm. And it’s made of real bakery flour. Two things that rationed bread in District 12 lacks considerably.
“It only cost me a squirrel,” he continues proudly. Sometimes I wonder about the trade of life and death. A squirrel is a full animal life, sustained off plants and small critters. Bread is made of wheat, water, and other dry ingredients. Is it worth it? Do we value puffed-up flour more than we do a life? Why?
I imagine what trading for the bread must have been like.
“Hey,” said Gale as he held up his arrow by the shaft. The bloodied point stuck out from a cross eyed squirrel. Thick yellow smoke wafted down the aisle.
The man behind the counter straightened up, hand bracing his back. “Yeah?” he grunted.
“Uh, what can I get for this?” Gale would say, swinging the arrow so the squirrel swayed side to side sickeningly.
“Ho,” said the guy, who would rub his stubble. “Let’s see. Since today is the reaping, I am feeling particularly kind, so I will offer you this lovely loaf of bread that you are otherwise too poor to afford.”
Gale would laugh maniacally and slam the squirrel in the counter-
“Catnip.” Gale waves his arrow in front of my face, nearly stabbing my eyes. I must have blanked out again.
“Right,” I say. I clear my throat and pull out a irregularly wrapped object. “Prim left us cheese.”
Gale’s eyes brighten, and I must admit, it’s entertaining, like watching a kid eat his first hard boiled egg. Harsh life.
“Thank you, Prim!” he exclaims and claps his hands together. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He adapts a excruciatingly painful Capitol accent. “Happy Hunger Games!” This time I smile.
Gale plucks a few blackberries from the bushes surrounding us and chucks one at me. My steampunked reflexes jerk me to catch it in my mouth.
“And may the odds-” he yells.
“-be ever in your favor!” I finish.
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Comments
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misslavender01 on says about chapter 2:
it's a good story.Nice flow and lovely.I hope you'll be updating it.Don't put it in the garbage truck'it's wonderful! ^^
yingjumeihua on says about chapter 2:
You write exactly like the book - in my opinion.
Pastelsky on says about chapter 2:
Hunger Games would never be accepted/required in my school, haha.
I really like your writing style though! It's clean, systematic and believable.
SpeechofSilence [mod] on says about chapter 1:
Ha, I had to read HG as part for school as well. >.<
Anyway, I enjoy this! There is personality and style in the writing, which makes it attractive and alluring. I really like this. I hope you'll update this, at least once or twice a year. I think it would be nice for your own comic and writing relief. :)
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