A fanfic about the bombing of District 13. I came up with the idea before I found out about it not really being destroyed, so I'm going to write it as if it did get destroyed. Veni, Vidi, Vado 18:02, October 17, 2010 (UTC)

I really need to work on this... *major WB/forgetfulness* AH MUNNA EAT CHOO! 02:04, April 15, 2011 (UTC)


The air is thick with poison. People are running all around me, the lucky ones wearing gas masks, the unlucky holding handkerchiefs or other pieces of cloth to their faces. So many dead already, many more still choking on the toxic air. I see none of this. All I see is the body of my sister, lying on the ground in front of me, and the bodies of my mother and father, lying off to the side. They didn't deserve to die, they never took part in the rebellion. I was the one who did. I suppose this could be seen as some kind of twisted justice, killing my family for crimes I commited against the Capitol. Thinking this, I remember where I was when the Capitol began dropping the bombs.

I was in the marketplace when the bombs started falling. One dropped in the middle of the square, killing instantly everyone within a yard of it. I was only five feet away, haggling with the cloth trader. This was how I managed to survive. I was able to pull together a makeshift mask out of the thickest woven fabric the trader had. I found out that the mines had been hit early on, but I still had hope that my father had gotten out. He was prone to taking breaks every half hour or so, and he might have been on one of them when they bombed the mines. Turns out he was, but that didn't save him when the poison gas came.

(to be continued)