Hunger Games Excerpt Novels & Stories

He looked up, expecting others to be equally as disgusted, but he was stunned to see the men digging in like they were having a gourmet meal, the moment the short prayer ended. Christ. What kind of hunger Games shit was this? Eli poked at the food with his fork. There was no way he was eating this. Thank God he’d packed like a dozen protein bars, a stash of chocolates, and one emergency sour gummy belt. He was set so he didn’t have to punish himself by eating this shit. He moved his fork around, faking it. Maybe if he stirred it enough, it’d look eaten. “Young man.” Eli’s heart thudded. Prior Dominic was looking directly at him.

"But fight while alive. Fight while strong. Starving yourself isn't rebellion, Desiree. It's surrender." I hate that he's right. Hate that his words make sense. Hate that somewhere beneath the rage and grief, a tiny part of me, the part that survived the battle, that crawled through mud to reach my father, wants to live. My hand shakes as I reach for the bread. Our fingers brush, and the bond hums with approval. I jerk away, taking the food with me. "This doesn't mean anything," I say around the first bite. Moon above, it tastes like heaven.

Pulling out a pile, he placed it on the counter and opened the heated tray. He took a piece of bacon, folded it in half and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed. When he realized that the fight was over, he opened his eyes and saw that everyone was looking at him. "What?" She asked as she started picking up scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes. "I am hungry." With his plate and cup of coffee, he made a beeline for the dining room as Alyssa sang that the game was over. started because of the starving pregnant woman.

Clara's POV I rose again, lighting candles against the encroaching dusk, their flames dancing shadows across the walls. The chamber felt alive now, breathing with the storm's pulse, and I moved through it like a specter—trailing fingers over the dagger's hiding spot, inhaling the faint trace of his cologne on the pillows. Hunger gnawed at my belly; the betas had slid trays through the door slot—bread, cheese, stew gone cold—but I picked at it mechanically, sustenance for the war ahead.

The scene warped blurry, brain flooding with flashes of fists and pain. For busting a bowl, Kayla starved her three days straight. Day two, and she floated woozy from hunger, chores stacking endless. Desperate, she snuck to the kitchen for scraps. She scarfed yesterday's cold sweet potato, gulping chunks unchewed, just shoving it in. [You little bitch! What the hell?] Thunderclap roar from behind—she froze mid-bite, shaking like a leaf. [So hungry. Sorry.] Tears poured hot; she choked out the plea.

If hell was coming again after this, I’d at least face it with something in my stomach. I reached forward with trembling fingers and grabbed the bread. It was still warm. Soft. I tore off a piece and shoved it into my mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. The sensation was almost overwhelming. I ate. Slowly at first. Then faster. Meat. Rice. Something sweet. Water. I downed it all. No shame. No pretense. Just hunger and desperation. “Careful,” a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and smug. “Wouldn’t want you choking now, would we?”

When I got out , the first thing my eyes feel ok was the foods that were nicely sreisbged on the table and the way the bed was set . I knew that I couldn't do a thing at this moment . I felt really sad watching him lay ok the bed . From the looks of things, he hadskresdy freshen up and he was waiting for me . I took a deep breath and walked towards the food that was by the table . My whole life, I had never felt so hungry the way I was today because I haven’t been able to have anything that was given to me . I sat camly by the bed while i ate from the table gingeuliy .

My body is so used to only going to bed at like three in the morning and wake up at seven that I know it’ll take forever to actually fall asleep. “I can get you a book or something to keep you busy?” he suggests and my face immediately lights up. He sees it and with a chuckle, he gets off of the bed. He leaves the room and a few moments’ later returns with an old battered copy of what looks like The Hunger Games. Fitting, both characters stuck in a place and being able to climb trees. “Hope it’s alright” Chase said, “Got it from Chevy. She’s obsessed” “It’s perfect, thank you” I said, putting the book down next to me. Chase leaves after telling me once more to not run away and then I’m left

Her reputation. Her future. Even her name had become something disgusting. One night, a guard slid a metal tray through the slot. A bowl of thin porridge. Ava stared at it for a long time. Hunger eventually won. She picked up the spoon and swallowed a mouthful. The taste was wrong. Bitter. Her throat burned. The spoon slipped from her fingers. Pain exploded inside her stomach. She collapsed onto the floor, coughing violently. Blood spilled from her lips. In that moment, Ava understood.

Lila Hunger gnawed at me like a living thing. At first, I thought I was dying; some new symptoms accelerating in my stomach. But after a full day I realized I truly was hungry for the first time in what felt like weeks. I told myself I could endure it; that I’d learned discipline under my father’s roof, that a few skipped meals were nothing compared to what I’d already survived. But after cutting rations smaller and smaller, the ache hollowed me out until it was all I could feel. The more I tried to ignore the hunger, the louder it screamed, echoing inside me until even silence seemed to vibrate with it.