Thresh Hunger Games Novels & Stories

she closed the door holding on to her throbbing head. her stomach grumbles, only then did she realize she hasn't eaten and except for the half loaf of bread, there's nothing more to it...she planned on going shopping but because of what happened, she didn't think about it. she is just throwing off a bank card as if it's nothing and now she is dying of hunger, how pathetic...With no other choice, she picks on her breath and eats making sure she drinks enough water to hold on to her stomach...

There was an elegance to him that felt out of place among the ruins, like a relic from a more noble era. Across the room, Tess was counting their remaining cans of beans, her face pale in the dim light. "Rhea... Marcus took the high-calorie packs. He took the sugar, the salt... everything. We have enough for three days. Maybe four if Leo and I skip meals." "Nobody is skipping meals, Tess," Rhea said firmly, not turning away from the stranger. "We’ll scavenge tomorrow. The grocery warehouse near the canal hasn't been touched in weeks."

He growled in my face almost animalistic. I looked away. He threw the bag of food and water in front of me on the bed. “Eat, drink, and then we will play again.” “I’m not being drugged again.” “Drink or I will force you.” I shook my head and threw the bottle against the wall and watched as it burst open, and the water pooled onto the floor. I watched his expression change as anger filled him. He grabbed me around my throat, and I clawed and scratched as much as I could at him but before long, I could feel myself blacking out.

“I built a life support system. I gave them air, water, and a sky that did not fall. There is a distinction that your primitive mind seems to struggle with.” ​“Not to the people who were locked inside while the steel screamed above them,” Thorne countered. He stood up, his movements stiff and pained, every joint protesting the effort. He walked over to the reinforced window, looking out at the sprawling graveyard of iron and ash that made up our world. “There is a crowd forming at the North Gate. They are not there to bring flowers or thank you for your calculations. They are there for the remaining stockpiles of canned proteins and the filtration units. They want what is left of the Hub’s h

These hunters will turn the world upside down if only to find her and get the coveted prize. "Yaya, I'm going to the gym. Don't cook dinner for me. I'm just going to grab something to eat at the nearby resto when I conclude my workout." “Sure Ma’am. I understand.” Stressed from a long day's work, she chose to unwind and let go of some steam. This is her habitual way of getting rid of the toxins in her body. In her reckoning, the sweat that flows out of her pores drives away the microorganisms that have clung to her. Aside from her exercise routine in the gym, she believes that tonight is special. It is forecast that a full moon will be rising from the East. It is time to go hunting and quenc

Sherlin said as she held his hand and closed the door of the bathroom. “I am not avoiding you, Sherlin,” He said to her as he started to look anywhere but at her. “Oh really? Then why are you not looking at me?” Sherlin folded her arms around her chest as she looked at him. “Sherlin I do not wish to have this talk with you right now,” Sherlin looked at him in irritation. “Then when will you have this talk with me? When you’ll be declared malnourished in front of the whole country? Billionaire Yash Kapoor found malnourished!” She made a dramatic expression as Yash took a deep breath.

Where are Heath and Talen? (Heath’s awake. Talen’s hurt. They’re trying to find everyone… ugh) Aislen broke off her knees giving a little under the pressure. (It hurts…) (What hurts?) Heath’s thought was sharp. (Are you injured?) There were people-shapes in the smoke. Their thoughts were filled with pain and anguish… and hunger. A terrible hunger. Zombies. And they could smell her. Blood and burnt meat. They knew that food was ahead, weak and seeping juices…

When she saw me approach, she only eyed me long enough to see what I'd scored, before returning to a book she must have snuck into one of the baskets from earlier. The Hunger Games. I knew the premise enough to know it was part of an extensive challenge between morals and survival that seemed to have her immersed enough to focus exclusively on the writing beneath her gaze. But while I began to skin and prepare dinner, I realized she was using it as a distraction as she didn't do as much as flip a page. She was simply debating breaking our silence or remaining obstinate.

Better than fine honestly. She tried to stand. Her knee disagreed. "We need food," she said, on the second attempt. Thorne made a sound. Almost a laugh. "Three centuries of transcendence and—" "We are ninety-two. We have not eaten. Yes." She got upright. Grabbed a branch. "Food first. Existential crisis after."

Any means necessary. Those words keep echoing in my mind like a curse. This is no longer just a game about finding the way out. The government has deliberately turned this place into a slaughterhouse. They want us—fellow Strains—to massacre one another. All for the chance to claim shelter while waiting for the gate to open. With only five shelters available, that means only twenty-five people can survive safely. Everyone else out there will be left to starve, be devoured by predators, or be killed by other teams.