50th Hunger Games Tributes Novels & Stories

Letharia’s POV ________________ The poor had gathered outside the television store windows, gathered around by guards to view the execution. If the poor couldn’t afford to go to the colosseum gaurds dragged them out of their homes to watch a dictator cut off the head of someone who had shed no blood, stealing for his family to survive. Sometimes it was a person who helped those captured girls who had turned into palace slaves to escape or someone who fed the occasional prisoners who criminals meant to die. That man wasn’t going to die today. I backed away from the crowd, sneaking into a dark alley, climbing onto the ladder, and onto the roof. I then descended another later onto the roof of a

Whitney Cole blurted out without thinking straight and instantly regretted saying the wrong name while biting her lower lips. “Well Jenna, you’re the only tribute remaining and you have to serve me before midnight or you will be a dead bone at dawn,” Aiden said with a cold voice that made Whitney tremble with chills. “Come on Mr. handsome, I thought we’d become friends. Why are you talking about some tributes and dead bones? Can you just remove the part about serving you and send me back to my pack?” Whitney blinked twice pretending not to be afraid. Meanwhile, Aiden frowned thinking Whitney was scared of him just like the rest of the tributes sent to him that he couldn’t stop himself from a

In a past where humans mattered. The courtyard was crowded with hushed sobs and frantic movements. Twenty of us had been named. Twenty tributes. Some were already crying. Others stared blankly ahead, like their souls had left already. No goodbyes. Just commands. March. Obey. Die quietly. Then I saw it the bus.