50 Shades of Hungrey - Chapter 2

“So what are the costumes this year? What angle are we working? Coal miners? Depressed hobos?” For a boy who was downright weeping on the train, Peeta is a little too into the Opening Ceremony for my comfort.

Cinna shakes his head. “So pedestrian. This year, we’re going for a look that’s countercultural yet recognizable.”

Peeta works this over. I’m too busy wondering what’s beneath Cinna’s slim black jeans. “So...happy hobos,” Peeta determines.

“Done five years ago. Not retro enough.” He gestures for us to follow him to a dark corner of the Remake Center. I happily oblige. “First of all, you’ll be riding bicycles.” 

“No chariots?” I say. 

“Budget cuts. Second, you’ll be, shall we say, without much need for costume.”

“Naked,” I mouth to Peeta, who flushes.

“The human form is a beautiful thing,” Cinna continues. “Especially when it’s on fire.”

Sure, the crowd cheers for the Careers. They’re pretty much required to. 

But they fucking lose their shit when Peeta and I ride in on a tandem bicycle, naked but for the flames that cover every inch of our bodies. Can’t blame the crowd for screeching, “Do me, District 12!”

I can’t actually see through the film of smoke and carbon monoxide in my eyes, but if I could, I’d bet that we look downright dangerous. Lethal. Ready to win.

Or insane. That, too. 

50 Shades of Hungrey - Chapter 1

Today is reaping day and the only thing I really want is a squirrel sandwich. Nevermind the Peacekeepers, the Capitol, or nervous twelve year-olds vomiting off the sides of the unpaved roads of District 12 out of fear. After the awkwardness of today’s hunting session in the woods with Gale, the only thing to satiate my nerves will be the nutty aroma of a sparingly fed squirrel.

“How many times is your name in for tesserae?” Gale had asked. He had just thrown a rock at a large bald eagle, hitting the bird in the chest. Bulls-eye. He hoped the feathers would make good mattress stuffing for three of his twelve brothers and sisters. I was excited because Greasy Sae might turn out a nice Bald Eagle stew for the right price.

I counted on my fingers. A byproduct of that stellar District 12 education. “Let’s see here... Me, one for my mute Mom, one for Prim, fuck the cat. Times my age. Eh, about 38 times. You?”

Gale shrugged and shielded his face from the sun. “Mom got pregnant again last week. So... 247 and a half. I’m thinking I might pull out okay.” I avoided his eyes. Dead man walking. “Yeah... sure.”

Of course, it’s not as if I wanted Gale to go to The Games. I mean, still, better him than me. But none of us wanted to. It was just the price we’d paid each reaping for our ancestors and their part in the uprising against the Capitol. Seventy-four years ago, thirteen districts had collectively said “nuts to this shit” and refused to play by the rules set forth by the leaders of Panem. And as a result of their hard fought rebellion, the remaining twelve districts pay each year with the lives of our offspring. Yeah. Fuck those guys. How bad could have things been back then for “peace” to now be synonymous with “make your tiny baby gladiator fight each other to the death”? Methinks they doth protested too much.

“Who do you think is least likely to go in?”

I shrugged. “Well, obviously Prim. She can’t even put on her clothes correctly, god bless her. She wouldn’t last two seconds. And... maybe that creepy guy from our year who sits out in the rain a lot. You know, the baker’s kid. What’s his name? Peter? Perry?”

“Chip, I think.”

50 Shades of Hungrey - Prologue

Prologue: What happens when the arena is one big red room? Former soldier Katniss Everdeen-Mellark recounted her struggle for victory in the 74th Annual Hunger Games and revolt against President Snow’s dictatorship in what became The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay, which would go on to win the Panem Prize for Historical Non-Fiction. Little did she know that years later, from beneath the rubble, the private journal she kept throughout it all would surface. And within its pages, a smouldering tale of love, lust, and betrayal unfolds... Before they were hungry, they were... 50 Shades of Hungrey

Peeta makes his way up the grassy knoll by the meadow, his wooden leg dragging behind him slightly. I frown from my place at the kitchen window, where I rinse the blood from my hunting knives. Ever since the tiny Rosie started whittling things, we’ve been running low on wood to keep her occupied. But Peeta doesn’t mind, in between the screams.

He looks preoccupied. Unsettled, even. Did he have a flashback down at the bakery? The last time that happened, he’d nearly beaten Haymitch to death with a rolling pin. Our mentor ended up on top of Peeta, pinning his wrists and ankles to the floor. Not bad for an old drunk. But I suspected that there was only so much more abuse that his body could tolerate.

There’s something in Peeta’s hands. A small package. From the Capitol?

“You okay, sweetheart?” I say as he enters the kitchen, panting.

“Yeah, I...yeah.”

“You’re not making me feel real confident.”

Peeta shakes his head as if to get his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. Time for an appointment at Ye Olde Supercuts. Back when District 12 was part of the United States and people could afford things, apparently they still liked discounted haircuts.

But I know what the shaking means. Our perpetual game: real or not real? The Capitol memories were waging war on him again.

“It’s just that...” Peeta fondles the package in his hand. “This came on the train for me, and I’m not sure what it means.”

I take it. Sniff it first. Just because we’re back in the bowels of Panem doesn’t mean that we haven’t had our share of death threats. Me especially. The girl on fire tends to get a few bags of flaming poo. So far, so good.

“Was there a note?”

“Nothing.”

As the paper unwraps, I drop the package in shock.

“Do you know?” Peeta says anxiously.

I look at the whip.

Of course I fucking know.