Competition Entry for MockingjayEverdeen12's 100th Annual Hunger Games Reaping.

My eyes grew wide. "No!!" It wasn't possible. It couldn't be happening. I'd heard wrong. It wasn't me, wasn't my name. The Hunger Games, beginning yet again, despite the work Katniss and Peeta Mellark from District Twelve did to prevent it. Here I stood, hearing my name pulled. This year was a Quarter Quell with an especially nasty turn. This was the 100th Annual Hunger Games.
***
Paloma Snow stood in the Capitol Building, her silver dyed hair gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her unnaturally violet colored eyes glittered with the thought of this year's Hunger Games. As a Quarter Quell, the arena this year would be full of new, dangerous inventions, and, hopefully, bloodthirsty contestants.

"This year, I want something big," Paloma ordered the head Gamemaker, Fistius Clout. "Something that no one in the history of the Hunger Games has ever seen. Something that will blow Panem away. Something that will establish fear in the hearts of the people. Something that will remind Panem what happens when you oppose my family and me."

"Of course, Ms. Snow," Fistius responded nervously. If Fistius didn't satisfy the Quarter Quell, things would not end well for him. He could lose his head! "We'll do our best. I promise."

"Make sure you do," Paloma responded, her eyes glittering dangerously. She leaned across the conference table, making sure she could be heard as she lowered her voice  dangerously. "Or I will personally see to your disposal."

Fistius nodded his head before pushing back his chair and nearly sprinting out. Paloma smiled to herself, loving the ability she possessed to strike fear into the hearts of anyone and everyone. Also having snuck a peek at this year's special Quell event, she'd realized that it was perfect. Just perfect.
***
My head swirled with thoughts. How could President Snow do this? How could the Quarter Quell have worked out so terribly? How would my mother, Annie, feel? As the widow of a victor, she was sure to react horribly. My mother's first husband, Finnick, died protecting Marcus, died protecting Annie, died protecting the Mockingjay. And my brother, Marcus, whose name had also been entered. What would he think? And my father, Isiah, what would he do when finding out the results?
***
Paloma sat at her mahogany desk in front of a Capitol Television (CTV) camera, knowing her image was being broadcast all over Panem. In front of her sat an ordinary looking box, brown in color. Heavier than it looked, the box was made of metal and then painted to look cardboard brown. An out-of-place silver lock held it shut.

This box wasn't made for any ordinary purpose though. Its contents consisted of one hundred notecards, on which was handwritten the Quarter Quell events every twenty-five years. It had last been opened to throw former victors back into the Games.

Paloma took a deep breath, looked straight into the camera, and began speaking. "Good morning, Panem. I come to you on this lovely day to tell you of this year's annual Hunger Games. But this year, as you may well know, is no ordinary year. This year is the one hundredth Hunger Games, one that will long be remembered as the Fourth Quarter Quell. It is tradition to open the Box of Events in front of the entire nation and read the notecard for that year. This I shall do now."

Paloma reached for the box, undid the clasp, and slowly raised the top. She glanced up only once before pulling the card. Anyone watching closely could detect the malice, the anticipation, in her violet eyes. She continued, gripping the card. "This year, it would seem the writers and makers of this box had something special in mind. This year's special twist involves the victors of previous Hunger Games."

Knowing the impatience of the Capitol, the fear of the Districts, she paused while scanning the card, then reading it. "This year, the children of all past victors from all Districts must be entered in the reaping. If the victors from a District have no children, they themselves must again be entered in the Games."

Paloma raised her eyes to meet the camera again, laying the card down in front of her. "Of course, the victors shall mentor those reaped as per tradition. If not a child of a victor, you are safe for one more year. But next year, you will not have this luxury of thinking. Thank you, Panem, and have a wonderful rest of the day." She glanced up one last time to smile. It wasn't a gentle smile. It was the smile a tiger might give to its prey before jumping and killing it.
***
The day of the reaping, everyone eligible in District Four stood within the roped off sections, made to hold more than just the few people taking part in the reaping. Spectator turnout was definitely larger. The reaping proctor, Jaynia, finally quieted the crowd saying, "Welcome to the one hundredth annual Hunger Games Reaping. As usual, ladies first."

She slipped her hand into the glass bowl to her right, rummaged around a little, then pulled one. "Allysia Kelen."

My mouth opened in a silent No! It couldn't be. Not me. Disbelief shot through my mind as Peacekeepers marched me to the stage. I stood there, numb, as Jaynia pulled the boy's name. Please don't be Marcus, please don't be my brother.

I heard the name, Antony Laren, before the District began cheering for their tributes. We stood stock-still side by side for a second before the Peacekeepers grabbed us roughly and moved us to the train. I heard my mother board the train as one of the only former, living victors and to be mentor. I ignored her as I pressed my face to the window, watching my home speed away. I was headed into the Hunger Games, just as my mother had. And I knew that I might not make it out alive.

Thank you for your consideration.