Hey Guys, I thought I would just muck around and wrote this. I know it seems incomplete but that is because I wrote approximately 4000 words and this was the only place I could think to split it. The next installment will be up shortly. Please review if you enjoy it.
Lightning illuminated the sky through the branches of the trees above my head. Immediately, through instinct I began to count the seconds between the flash and the earth shaking sound that was to follow.
"One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six"
The vibration of the noise seemed to penetrate my bones due to its intensity. The air has this feeling about it and although no rain has yet appeared, I know it is coming. I guess after seventeen years of practically living in the forest you are expected to at least understand weather and the way it works with our environment.
It is fairly dark for five o'clock in the afternoon but with storm clouds blocking the sun, it seems reasonable. Really, I should move now and avoid the risk of catching an temporary illness, but I figure tomorrow will go one of two ways: I will either be able to go home in the afternoon and sleep off whatever sickness I may contract, or my name will appear on a tiny slip of paper pulled from a stupidly large glass bowl and thus I will be shipped off to the Capitol, where they will with no doubt shove various concoctions down my throat until I am better.
Another flash and crash caused by the storm filled up my senses. Currently, I'm in no immediate danger apart from my enemy, time, slowly bringing closer my inescapable fate. I lay my head back against the rough bark of the oak and close my eyes. The soil around the roots is loose enough to allow my fingers to bury themselves beneath the surface. I have always loved the smell of the forest, and the rain, and dirt. I don't often get to adventure here on my own but of course, the day before the reaping is generally spent setting up 'the festivities' in the town square where which very few lumberjacks are required. As I am under the age of eighteen, I was released from those responsibilities.
There are several career paths in District Seven. Yes, the Capitol has so generously given us several tree related activities where from the age of ten you can choose in what area you wish to apply yourself for the rest of your measly life. By 'choose' I mean its compulsory, unless you are lucky enough to have enough money to be excused, or you have gone through trials that state you are 'unfit' to work. That option is generally only available for the pregnant, elderly or disabled. The wealthy are predominately from merchant households. I guess the Capitols requirements of the luxury that is paper and furniture is more important than the education and lifestyle of District 7's children. Mind you, we are talking about the same Capitol that shoves a group of twenty-four children into an area to fight to the death, so I guess a failed education system is hardly inexcusable.
In the summer season of every year, the newly aged ten year olds are taken into the forest by peace keepers and given axes. Over six weeks, basic training is given to everyone and a trial is held to see who is best with an axe and logging equipment. Those who qualify, such as myself, are recruited as lumberjacks. The strongest are trained as load pullers and lead climbers. The weaker and more sensitive children are placed in paper factories or start learning trades such as furniture building and carpentry.
Another crack of thunder reverberated in the air around me. The sound was barely three seconds after the flash this time; meaning the lightning struck a few three miles away. A drop of water fell against my spiky hair heavily. I look up squinting through the darkness. Suddenly, three more drops fall onto my cheeks and roll down my neck. I look down again as drop followed by continuous drops begin to fall heavily on my skin. I sigh deeply. The rain struck my skin like icy needles yet I refuse to acknowledge any thought of movement. Going home only means facing an anxious family. I mean, they are positive enough and tougher than most but I think all families with kids can't help but be worried on days like today. As I turned seventeen the other day my name is in the pool six times. My two elder brothers, my dad and myself are all lumberjacks: the highest paying lumber concentrated profession. Though our pay is still small, we are middle class and one of few lucky families that have been able to avoid tesserae, even after my mother's passing. This also allowed for my younger sister to remain the sensitive soul that she is. Every year, I become more and more eager to just slip through the cracks for another year and avoid the reaping but each new slip of paper added to that bowl makes it harder for me to believe it will be okay.