Monologues Hunger Games Novels & Stories

Red carpets and gold rooms and men falling at my feet. And always… Duncan. --- The last pin clattered to the floor. I stared at myself in the mirror. Hair down. Makeup smudged. Eyes open. Not a goddess. Not a weapon. Just a woman pretending not to be afraid. --- I whispered his name once. Just to hear how it sounded again. “Duncan.” It broke in my throat like glass. --- I would disappear again soon. Let the crowd hunger for the next appearance. Let the headlines spin.

She saw her mind dissolving into a permanent fog of maddening hunger, where the only thing that existed was the shape of his hands. “You’re fighting the inevitable, my prize,” Zilo’s voice was everywhere, a suffocating silk wrap. “Phuwin Montague isn’t your savior. He’s a taxidermist. He’s waiting for the moment you break so he can preserve the parts he finds useful. Do you really think he’ll let a feral Dhampir wander his halls once the hunger takes your tongue?”

“don’t you remember begging for death? “ he says coldly with a sneer .Leaving me shivering on the spot . Just as I remembered ,cold and detached ,his voice laced with a hint of danger and mystery that makes you crave the next words he utters more than air , His voice is so hypnotic you fall into a trance ,knowing fully well that if he demands you to jump, you would ask how high without hesitation ,ready to do anything to hear him say more no matter the consequences . “weren’t you the one that begged me to end your life the last time we met and now here you are” “didn't get anyone to kill you huh Monella, still up for it ,because right now I am feeling pretty generous,I am ready to grant your

Chairs lined the walls like shy dogs. The chorus began a second piece in which hunger wore a waistcoat. The candles performed modesty. A man whose hands had learned to beat iron closed his eyes and pretended they had always been good at prayer. Peregrine, in the back, did not lift his violin. He stood as if counting down from a sin. Maera set the hinge on its rail. “No speeches,” she told Evelyn. “We are tired of speeches.” Evelyn did something more dangerous to an institution with lamps: she opened her basket.

Jude whispers, "Shh. Listen." I hear Mama saying, "Bite me, Jude." Then I hear Chris say, "We're family." Melanie says, "Kiss me before I die." Mitchell scoffs, "Winnie's hand-picked and chosen." Wilson states, "I'm willing! Micah pleads, "Make me like you! And Deena says, "I'm your queen, waiting on her king to take his throne." There's a host of other voices that I don't recognize. Then it turns warm, and I hear faint screams. Soon, it's blazing hot, and the screams become loud and torturous. Now I'm on fire and wailing with all the others.

she cries with horror. "Do it quickly, lady. My men are watching your Ginny, who is eating Chilaquiles," he smirks. "I tried that meal once, you know. Wondered for an hour that what I had just ate. Uh, why are you staring at me? Because of my handsome face? Slit your wrist, C'mon!" "Why are you doing this to me?" "Because, I can't change myself." Alyona bents down and slowly picks up a tiny piece of broken glass, shaking lightly. "You'll rot in hell, you monster," she curses. Mahone turns to the blue, quiet sea. "I already have," he chuckles.

Jules’ POV The moment Aegon was gone and I was sure his footsteps had faded completely, I moved. There was no grace or any dignity. Just Primal and desperate hunger, Like an animal. I lunged for the tray he’d left just inches from my reach and tore into the bread, fingers trembling so hard I could barely hold the bread up.

Hiccups shook my frame, making my pregnant belly ache. “Every time I find a scrap of happiness, it’s ripped away from me. Every time I think I can finally breathe, someone puts their hands around my throat. And now... now I’m a prisoner to a…bloodsuckerwho plays with his food!” I wiped my nose, my breath coming in jagged, pathetic sniffs. “I’m tired. I am just so... so tired of fighting and surviving.” Finally, I steadied my gaze and stared directly into Luca’s unreadable eyes. “Please let me go. I'm begging you with everything I hold sacred. You won,” I sniffled, blinking back a fresh wave of tears, as my voice cracked, “I'm broken now.”

But the circle hums, and it wants payment because I am inside a bowl of old hunger, and I am the thing it has chosen. I fight the black that creeps in at the edges until my lids fold and the last thing I hear—horrible and magnificent—is Nate’s voice, tearing and low: “I will give my life for hers.” My knees go out from under me. The stars tilt. The ropes burn. The runes drink. “Don’t you dare,” I try to say. But the words are a moth in a gale. The world narrows to the sound of men arguing, the metal clink of weapons, and the awful tick of the circle counting heartbeats.

When Malcolm sees that, he sighs and takes back his bowl of porridge, saying to her: "Open your mouth" Mia just lowers her head and does not react. Malcolm is a little impatient but still tries to advise the girl in a calm voice: “Do you want to starve to death? Honestly, look at your body, how sick you look. If you were ugly, I wouldn't even look at you." "That's what I want too..."