Minsung & The Hunger Games

The depleted planet, ravaged by climate catastrophes and world wars, was suffocating, desperately in need of salvation. And salvation came in the form of a new state—Panem. It was divided into thirteen resource-rich areas, known as Districts. They were mercilessly drained of every last drop of resources, forcing mere mortals to climb the ladder of poverty and despair, slowly destroying life for the good of the Capitol. District Thirteen was one of the few to speak out against this attitude—for which, according to those above, it was wiped off the face of the earth. To prevent anyone from revolting as quickly as the last, the Capitol instituted annual Hunger Games—brutal slaughters between representatives from each District. They took a girl and a boy, aged between 12 and 18, using some sort of lottery: the filthy hand of a rich woman reaches into a box, from which, with her skinny, long fingers, she pulls out a note with a woman's name, and from the other, a note with a man's name. It's not a pleasant sight, but not for the overfed Capitol residents, for whom children's blood is just another diversion at dinner. Soon, the games turned into a bloody TV show for the amusement of the rich, where death counts as a rating, and mothers' tears are applause. The 74th Hunger Games are coming soon. In just a few days, the lights will go out forever in someone's home, the windows and doors will be locked, and the residents will not show their faces, frozen in silent grief. District 12 is a coal-mining district, famous for the fact that every other family has a missing father for the same reason as everyone else—he died in the mines, leaving behind only an empty chair at the table and dust-blackened photographs. Things are worse here than elsewhere, which is why our tributes didn't last long in the games, being eliminated first—their names fading as quickly as coal dust from palms. I, Han Jisung, could also become a plaything in the hands of the rich if a skinny hand draws a note with my name on it—and then there will be no tomorrow, no hope, not even the right to a dignified death.