Monologues Hunger Games Novels & Stories

“In case you haven’t noticed, son, we are walking in a literal deathtrap. I could slip and break my neck at any given moment, so I’m sorry if putting all of my focus into that hurt your feelings.” “Oh, for the love of the goddess,” I sighed. “So we’re back to your bullshit old and fragile act?” Malcolm scoffed. “I’d like to see you play at being ‘old and fragile’ when you get to eighty-eight, Hector.” Surprisingly, this shut me up, and for the next few moments we continued on silently through the passage of caves until finally, I spoke. “What’s the end game here, Malcolm?” I asked, and he turned to me with an upraised brow, like he had no idea what he was talking about.

Stood on his side was the new royal adviser, looking as the most down-to-earth person in the universe as ever, who on the day that he was appointed, never gained the people's favor and support. The drums started thundering like the audience's hearts filled with fear and excitement, harmonizing the rhythm of death that was wickedly played on flutes and zithers by the kingdom's musicians. But no matter how chaotic it was, Mon could still hear himself chasing his breath. He could feel his heart beat inside his head. His throat was as dry as his mouth and his stomach was grumbling from hunger. It has been a long while since he felt his stomach satisfied. Mon already felt numb after being unable

Mona’s POV I stumbled backward, my hand grasping the doorknob as if it were the only thing anchoring me to reality. The sight before me was a cruel shock, draining the very life from my limbs, leaving me swaying at the threshold. Tears cascaded down my cheeks, each drop a vivid reminder of the betrayal that twisted like a knife in my heart. The sound of my ragged breaths filled the silence around me, a chaotic symphony of anguish that seemed to taunt my shattered expectations.

I wanted to laugh in their faces, to spit at their mortal threats, to tell them that gods had no need for bread or water. But then… Growl. The sound tore through the silence, low and sharp, like an animal stirring in its cage. My stomach betrayed me. An ache twisted through my gut, hot and humiliating, a weakness I had not felt in centuries. Hunger. A mortal hunger, crawling across my body like shame. The maids smirked at the sound, their eyes glinting with quiet triumph. “There now,” one of them whispered, her voice soft as silk but cutting like glass. “Even gods need to eat.”

Running is not an option because it has been tried before and those who ran were always caught and killed. "Mother I am very aware of this. I know that you are all concerned in your way for me and I thank you for that. I will say that I know that there are many possibilities of what could happen to me, but I am tired of worrying over something that I have no control over. I wanted to enjoy the little bit of time that I had left. I have heard from the leaders of the village that this year there is only going to be one hundred males and females for the reaping, and out of that one hundred, only Michael is from this village. That means that most likely I will never be coming back here." I hear

Come on! Some people just want to be greedy with their beauty. Hunter King, the beautiful devil. I hate him. “Oh come on. Who are you still deceiving at this point?” Shut up brain! He seems to sense my hungry eyes feeding on him from afar and turns to look at the exact place I’m hiding. I quickly throw myself on the floor. Literally. OUCH Why can’t I freaking duck like every normal human would do in this situation? It works though as he just frowns and walks into the mansion.

“We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self destruction.” - Plutarch Heavensbee, The Hunger Games #3 Mockingjay. ~ CASPIAN ~ Five years now, I have no reason not to believe that I've truly lost everything that ever mattered to me. My peace. My happiness. My Fireheart.

She clutches her chest, trying to contain the pain that threatens to consume her. Meagia begins yelling. “Is there no one left who cares about me? No one who sees me as more than a pawn in their twisted games?” Her words hang in the air, unanswered, as the weight of her isolation and betrayal presses down upon her. In the darkness of the dungeon, Meagia is left to confront the harsh truth that she is truly alone in her struggle for survival.

“How does it feel to always fight cheeks by cheeks with death?” “Amazing, I feel like a god,” said Mona with a cheeky smile as she managed to snide her sarcasm even when she had just opened her eyes. Eston walked toward her, “You are really a handful. Do you really expect that you could be freed from the serpent’s magical power that much? You were really on the border of death!” “I know, it wasn’t fun but see you two managed to kill it so I call this a tactical win that I managed to do because I had actually used my brain!” Mona pulled her skirt that stuck still. “Anyway where is Dominic?”

Mona's POV The bonfire crackled in Silver Moon's courtyard, and I watched our makeshift army pretend we weren't marching to war tomorrow. Someone had brought out guitars. Someone else had raided the kitchens. What started as a strategy meeting had transformed into something else entirely—not a celebration of victory we hadn't won, but a desperate grab at one last moment of being human, being together, being alive.