The 57th Hunger Games | Day One: The Cornucopia Bloodbath

It was the day of the games. After two weeks of training and studying — two weeks of constant fear of what he would experience — Matthew’s skills were about to be put to the ultimate test.

The journey to the arena via hovercraft was incredibly awkward, yet suspenseful. Next to him sat eleven other tributes who would soon be wanting to kill each other, including himself. In about an hour from then on, they would have the freedom to fight. Before the vehicle took off, a woman approached each of the twelve teens. Matthew couldn’t see what she was doing to them until she eventually came to him.

“Give me your arm,” she demanded with a tool in her other hand.

As he extended his arm outwards, the woman grabbed and straitened it out, soon injecting a sharp needle into it. Underneath his flesh he saw a brief, white glow after she pulled the trigger on her tool.

“What is that?” He asked the woman, confused.

“That’s your tracker.”

Lovely — another reminder that cameras would be on him at all times, including his potential death.

Once each of them had been injected, the woman left the deck and the lights in the hovercraft dimmed before taking off. Not a word was spoken between the twelve tributes during the flight — not even a single sound.

Once he had entered his launch room of the arena — or as the districts referred to it as the stockyard — he was greeted by the stylist he worked with leading up to the games. The room had light-blue tiles going along the walls with dim lights placed sparingly across the ceiling. In the room was a bench for him to sit on while he waited for the games, a desk for the stylist, and a hanger which had his arena jacket strung up for display. To Matthew, he couldn’t help but think that was potentially what he would wear as he died. He wanted to avoid wearing it at all costs, but he HAD to; there was no way around it. All he did was sit there in silence, unable to get his mind off what he was about to experience.

“Sixty seconds,” out called a voice over the speakers from the corners of the room.

Now he knew exactly how long he had until he was launched into the arena, the reminder of his possible demise shook him to the bone.

Shortly after the announcement, the stylist brought over the final piece of his outfit and helped him to put it on. Altogether, his arena outfit was:

* A pair of sturdy, brown leather boots

* Olive-green cargo pants with pockets on the sides and back

* A seastorm-blue, hooded nylon jacket with silver stripes running down the front, the arms, and back, along with an orange reflective tape on the hem of the inner layer

* And a simple crew-neck t-shirt that matched the colour of the jacket.

“Okay, so, regular cargo pants and boots, and a jacket made of nylon; I’d expect some type of cold environment up there — maybe a tundra,” he informed the young wolf.

“Thirty seconds.”

Matthew’s eyes were glued to the glass cylinder tube he was about to enter, knowing where it would take him once he did.

“I’m not exactly good at saying goodbyes,” said the stylist, “but I do wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you...” the wolf replied.

“Twenty seconds.”

The beginning of the games was creeping up on him fast — was time for him to go. He slowly walked towards the cylinder, his body shaking from head-to-toe due to the horrific images he feared to witness in person.

“Ten seconds.”

Once Matthew finally stepped inside the tube, the glass door immediately shut behind him, the ambient sound of the fans from the launch now being muted; it was like the calm before the storm.

The silence was soon broken by mechanical sounds of the plate beneath Matthew slowly ascending him upwards.

‘This is it,’ he thought to himself, mentally preparing for the worst.

As he was being raised higher and higher to the top, he noticed the temperature inside the tube was starting to drop rapidly as a bright, white light shined down on him. The light only got brighter before blinding him completely for a brief moment as he elevated to the top, though he started to hear a whistling wind blowing through his ears. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realised his stylist’s prediction of the arena was right.

The arena was a blistering-cold winter landscape that appeared to be filled with pine forests across the terrain. Incredibly-tall mountains were visible in the far distance, which he assumed was where the arena’s border would be. The sky was completely covered with snow-filled clouds with not a single hint of blue in sight, and it didn’t look like they were leaving anytime soon.

Forming a circle in the middle of the snow-covered meadow with Matthew were of course, the twenty-three other tributes standing atop of their pedestals, aged between 12-18, the wolf being eighteen himself; he was placed in between Metro (6) and Annabelle (10) while the career tributes were a few pedestals away from him and spaced out in between others. His district partner, Mariana, was nowhere in sight — presumably around the opposite side of the circle.

There in the centre of them all was a giant, silver cornucopia that was filled to the brim with a wide selection of items that would help each of them survive in the games. In the large horn, he saw a variety of equipment: food, bottles, sleeping bags, backpacks, and of course, weapons; lots and lots of weapons — swords, maces, spears, knives, axes, etc. Several items were also scattered outside of the structure; small, less valuable ones further outwards, and the most valuable closer to the mouth and inside. He took one look around the circle for the second time and noticed Gladius (2) was staring at the cornucopia hungrily, as if the hyena was craving to try out his new toys as soon as the cannon fired. Other tributes had focused looks on their faces, while some had troubled. Who could blame them? At least a few of them were about to die.

“Let the fifty-seventh Hunger Games begin! May the odds be ever in your favour...” out called Claudius Templesmith, the announcer of the games.

Shortly after, the countdown commenced.

Sixty seconds — that was how long Matthew had until the bloodbath began — that was how long he had to figure out his final plan. For him, a weapon was mandatory for his survival. If he could, other supplies would also be necessary, but he was advised by his mentor to not wander around at the cornucopia. He had to get what he needed and get out of there, if he wanted to leave scot-free. Eyeing the stock of supplies, he scanned through each of them to find a weapon most fitted to him — archery wasn’t his strong suit, so a bow was out of the question — a spear was doable, but he specialised more with one-handed tools back home — something that was more familiar to him.

“...44...43...42...41...40...39...”

He took a moment to look at his surroundings and wondered where would be the best place to go, judging from the environment they were in. It was freezing cold, so finding some shelter and starting a fire was crucial for that harsh weather, and staying as far away from the cornucopia as possible would be beneficial — the careers typically used it in previous games as their camp and hunted down anyone who went near it.”

“...28...27...26...25...24...23...”

He thought out where he should go, but still hadn’t found a weapon in the pile that would be good for him — time was running out.

“19...18...17...16...”

He scanned through the supplies one last time, hoping to find something he could use for his defence that he was familiar with. He almost settled for the spear, but soon found something that suited him well — a machete, resting by the side of a crate near the mouth of the cornucopia; he was making it his top priority to acquire that weapon, but he wouldn’t have long to stick around.

“...11...10...9...”

In the last few seconds, Matthew’s heart began pounding in his chest and felt his adrenaline firing up. He positioned himself towards the horn and glued his eyes on the prize. ‘This is it,’ he thought, preparing for the worst.

“...5...4...3...2...1...”

*BOOM*

Immediately as the cannon sounded, Matthew and the majority of the tributes dashed towards the cornucopia. He peripherally saw some of them were heading for the backpacks around the edges of the supplies spread across the snow as he sprinted past the others, while Amelia (6) jolted straight past him and into the mouth; fortunately for him, besides the cheetah, he appeared to be one of the first to reach the entrance.

The machete he desired was in close range and he reached out to grab it. Though he obtained the weapon, another hand reached out and took a double-holed axe next to it. He looked up to see Jason (8) who was facing towards him. Without hesitation, Jason swung his axe at the wolf’s head, but managed to dodge it. Out of instinct, Matthew struck the boy with his machete and the sharp blade sunk deep into his shoulder. He yelped as he collapsed on his knees, clutching onto the wolf’s arm with his now-bloody hands and looking him in the eyes as if to beg for the pain to stop. With a hard tug and a kick into his torso, the lupine ejected the blade out from the boy’s shoulder and blood began spurting out from the wound as he fell backwards onto the snowy grass.

Unable to reflect on what happened at that time, he distanced himself from the horn’s mouth and made his way to the closest backpack he could find. He began to hear screams and grunts from other tributes along with blades clashing as he looked around for a sleeping bag that was not yet taken. While he scavenged for one, he briefly took a look at the chaos around him — he saw Steele (1) stabbing Heather (11) through the abdomen with a sword, Muffin (9) and Jill (3) wrestling over a sleeping bag, Jack (7) throwing a tomahawk into Luther (12), Gladius (2) cutting off the arm of Metro (6), Yvonne (5) searching frantically through a backpack, Livia (2) bashing Dimitri (3) in the head with a spiked mace, and Garth (5) sparring with Bruce (10) just metres away from him. Finally, in the pile of supplies around him, the wolf managed to find a navy-blue sleeping bag and got out of there once he acquired it.

Matthew ran straight into the forest while slipping his arms through the straps of the backpack. He didn’t even bother to look back at the battle taking place, but knew it was something he did not want to see.

Despite escaping the bloodbath, the wolf didn’t stop running; he kept going until he knew there was a fair distance between him and the other tributes, whenever the cornucopia was no longer in sight and he couldn’t hear the screams anymore. Once the coast was clear, he took a seat next to a nearby pine tree to catch his breath. He couldn’t believe he made it, without a single scratch on him and all! He chuckled out of relief, but that celebration only lasted a brief few seconds. As he looked down at his bloody hand, he was taken back into that moment at the cornucopia and reminded of what he had done — he just killed someone.

Matthew’s hand began to shake uncontrollably. Never had he thought that he would have to take the life of an innocent boy/girl. He felt awful; that innocence he had before the games started was no more. His mind wondered that even if he did make it out of the arena alive, what would his family and friends think of him? Would they even be able to look at him ever again and not think of him being a ruthless murderer? He couldn’t even bare to imagine the look on his mother’s face at that moment.

However, as much as he hated it, all he could do was continue playing the game. He clenched his fist, tossed the thoughts aside and proceeded to grab his backpack; it was either him or the other guy — kill or be killed. He had no say in the matter.

Upon unzipping the backpack, he opened it up and pulled out each item one at a time. Altogether, he had:

* A fire starter with matches

* A flexible rope

* Bandages

* An aluminium bottle, unfortunately with no water

* And some pieces of bread

While going over what he had acquired from the cornucopia, he was suddenly interrupted by a cannon fire in the distance; one cannon after another, signifying the deaths of the tributes from the bloodbath. When the cannons had stopped, Matthew had counted nine. Nine dead — fifteen remaining.

Once he had put everything back in his backpack, he got back up on his feet and continued his journey forward. There was no time to waist — he had to find water and shelter soon before it got dark, or else he’d be struggling that first night.

After roughly about a few hours of walking, he noticed how the area in front of him was starting to open up a bit, like there was a wide gap separating the trees, which to him was a good sign. And just as he suspected upon further investigating, he found a frozen river which filled in that gap between the pines.

Immediately, he picked up his walking pace and swung his machete down at the ice covering the water; it took a few strikes, but before he knew it, the sound of fresh water rushing filled his ears and he took off his backpack to grab the empty bottle out of it.

He dunked the bottle under the freezing-cold water and brought it to his lips once it was full. After a few swigs, he sighed of relief — finally, an endless supply of water to quench his thirst whenever he needed. However, he was still missing shelter; he needed to find it soon, because the sun was starting to go down. Fortunately, the river was not far from the mountains surrounding the arena, which enticed him to explore at the bottom to hopefully find a cave.

As the sun began to dawn and the sky became darker much faster, he was beginning to think he wasn’t going to have a wonderful night, as if it wasn’t already. But just when he thought he was out of luck, he found it — a small, dark cave entrance that seemed to not have any lights shining through to expose whatever was on the inside.

Shortly after discovering the cave, Matthew took his backpack off and brought out the pack of matches to light one up, so he could see if the coast was clear — thankfully, it was.

He was safe — for now.

As time passed, Matthew had spent the rest of the evening inside the cave, making no sound whatsoever to not attract any unwanted guests. Ever since he left the cornucopia earlier that day, he hadn’t heard a single cannon fire, meaning that still fifteen other tributes remained. He wondered if his District partner, Mariana, was still out there, and where she would even be; was she with the careers? Or was she by herself? He didn’t know her very well, by she was from home.

However, his deep thoughts were interrupted by the Capitol’s national anthem which started playing outside the cave. Quickly, he got up on his feet and headed to the entrance with his machete. He was confused as to where that music was coming from, but he soon realised the audio was coming from a light up in the night sky. The Capitol’s logo appeared with a brief text following shortly afterwards: ‘The Fallen Tributes.’

One by one in District order, the following were the tributes who were killed in the bloodbath: Dimitri and Jill (3), Yvonne (5), Metro (6), Jason and Janet (8), Muffin (9), Heather (11), and Luther (12).

What hit the most for Matthew was Metro and Jason. Metro was the youngest out of the tributes that year; unfortunately, the poor kid’s life was cut way too short, not to mention in cold blood. Gladius looked as if he enjoyed cutting the arm off a twelve-year-old, watching him scream and try to scurry away, like some sort of sadist.

As for Jason, it was now confirmed officially that he succumbed to his injury when Matthew left him in the snow; he knew he had killed him immediately after he ran away, but now seeing his face show up in the sky only made him feel worse than he already did.

And just as suspected, Mariana was still alive, along with the rest of the careers.

Shortly after the announcement had ended, Matthew went back inside the cave and rolled out his sleeping bag before crawling inside. He made sure to keep his jacket on underneath due to the cold weather that only seemed to be decreasing in temperature; it was going to be tough to sleep, but he had to get some in order to save some energy. Despite having his eyes closed for a long period, he was struggling to fall into a deep slumber. Images from the bloodbath constantly flashed in his head, and it only foreshadowed what laid ahead. All Matthew could do was let out a long, stressful sigh.

“This is gonna be a long night…”

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Let the 57th Hunger Games begin! Today I introduce you to a new storyline set in the world of the Hunger Games, where you’ll learn about Matthew’s experience and struggles throughout his time in the arena, along with the people in it with him…I really hope y’all enjoy! I’ve had a lot of fun preparing this one and wanted to have it all thought out before I officially posted the first chapter in the series.

This awesome pic was done by :iconJailbird:

All characters in this series, except for Matthew, are completely original and have no official owners.