Music Hunger Games Novels & Stories

It didn't taste as bad as tap water and apart from the woody taste, she felt it was clean and safer to drink than water from a pond. Once she drank to her heart's content, she opened a packet of crackers and ate all its contents in under a minute. She was overwhelmed by her hunger but firmly decided that it was all in her mind. She could ever remember being so hungry, perhaps the thought that she didn't have enough food was making her want to eat so much. But then she remembered that the packet of her crackers was her first meal in two days. The last meal she had eaten was when Negan joined them for dinner. She hadn't eaten on the mating day.

All he needs to do is to snap his fingers and a thousand soldiers would come running after me for my head on his plate I limp back to where I had scattered the food. I sit down and stare at it. I still feel hungry and the feeling is so much I am beginning to lose my mind again. I battle within myself if to continue eating or to just leave the food I think about the hole I dug back in my room, I had suffered so greatly to save up that amount of money. Now everything is gone, probably taking at the party by Leaj- my so-called sister

He wore a heavy wool sweater that hid the obsidian hardness of his new skin. "Boss, I don't think this is edible," Marcus whispered, poking a lump of grey matter on his plate with a fork. "I think this used to be dehydrated beef stroganoff, but now it’s... tactical sludge." "Eat it, Marcus," Jack smiled. It was a genuine smile, the first one in days. "It’s fuel." They sat around the table. A billionaire, a hacker, an accountant, a giant bodyguard, a scientist father, a mother who knew too many secrets, and a little girl who could talk to drones.

“Plenty.” The truth is I can barely keep food down. Everything smells stronger than it should—the stew, the smoke, even the wet earth beneath my boots. My stomach churns at the scent. Marla shrugs, scoops something into a wooden bowl, and passes it to me. “Eat. You’ll need it. The new batch of rogues wants to spar with you today. You’ve apparently become the camp’s favorite punching bag.” “Lucky me.” She smirks and walks off, calling someone’s name. I stare at the bowl for a moment, trying to convince myself to eat, but the greasy surface makes my throat tighten. I push it aside and breathe through my nose until the nausea fades.

Whatever twisted game fate thinks it’s playing with me… it’s not going to work. “It feels like I’m in trouble because you invited me for breakfast, especially since I’m only a slave. It’s hard to eat with you watching me.” she admits. “So you won’t eat?” I ask. “I will,” she answers. “Then eat,” I command. She looks at the food with obvious hunger written all over her face, but still, she hesitates. It’s ridiculous how someone who is clearly starving can fight themselves this hard over accepting a plate of food, but she’s going to lose this battle because hunger always wins.

I could hear them discussing their plans of killing me! When they saw that I had survived my encounter with these four ghouls, the audience watching the livestream went nuts. [Could players even win this way? I’ve never seen this happen before!] [Wow, this makes me want to try making food in the next game too.] [Keep dreaming. This newbie can actually cook, I can tell.] [It’s true that she has some skills. I get hungry just watching her. I wonder if she’ll manage to make new kinds of food in the next few days.]

Like pretending everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. Hoodie guy caught me looking at him again. He smirked, a piece of bread still in his hand. “Told you. Safe, right?” I didn’t answer. I just nodded faintly and looked down at my plate again. But even as I ate, I couldn’t stop thinking — why feed us? Why care if we had energy? The voice had said something about a reward. But what kind of reward did you give to people trapped in a murder game? Maybe they wanted us strong enough to keep playing.

AZEL WHITMORE POV "Would your inner wolves like some steamed chive and egg dumplings for breakfast?" Nyra asks, turning his head toward Darius and Ezekiel with a super sweet, fake smile. "Our ration bags are completely out of fresh game meat, so we only have wild eggs and green chives left in the camp." "Of course! My wolf absolutely loves chive dumplings," Darius answers eagerly, puffing out his chest. "Sounds great to me," Ezekiel nods, his eyes cutting away from my breakfast table.

"We're burning out, Malakai! We need fuel, or we won't be able to dig ourselves out when the storm breaks!" "He's right." Roman's voice is calmer but strained. "We can't keep going like this. The hunger is going to override everything." I sit there in the dark, listening to the monsters fight over me. My hands are still on my neck, and I can feel my own pulse hammering against my palms. They're arguing about who gets to feed on me. Like I'm not even a person anymore. Like I'm just meat.

I didn’t waste another ounce of energy. The Purified Water had shattered the Instance’s illusion. That ravenous, mind-bending hunger was gone. But the real, gnawing emptiness in my gut remained. The game hadn’t created the hunger; it had just taken a biological fact and cranked the volume to eleven. If I didn’t eat, the sensation would return. It would build, just like the compulsion, until I was ready to chew on driftwood. The NPCs were desperate to get that monster-fish into me. That alone was proof it was poison.