Hello everyone this is my first FanFic. Enjoy the story and updates will soon be coming your way!
*cough cough* Oh and ya, I don't own the Hunger Games but I do own my character and all the characters you will soon meet.
It's warm, its sunny, its hot. Clouds swirl around in the sky, letting in most of the peachy sun to shine down on the whole district. It would be a perfect day, a day to relax; expect today is the day of the Reaping.
I stand at a ready position, standing in between the other 17 years old, who are as nervous as anyone would be. They all try to give each other comforting looks, me as well. I am dressed in a cheap spring green dress and my flaming red hair is in a high ponytail that brushes against my neck when it is caught in the gentle breeze. We all have our name in 18 times, that's a lot. But sadly, many of us have our names in their way more than 18 times. I at least have my name in their 28 times, ten more then I need to have. But then again, my mother and father need more food than ever.
Both of them work as hard as they can. Chopping down wood and getting their money at the end of the day. And somehow it always seems to be gone. And both of my parents are getting old and sick, working for your whole life non stop can do that to you.
I am Natasha Woodark. I live in District 7, the lumbar district. I chop down wood with my father while my mom makes paper and who knows what. After this year, it will be my last reaping and believe me, I am excited about it. I sport flaming red hair with hazel brown eyes, the hair I get from my mother's side. I am short for my age, some say that is bad but really it allows me to run faster and bend more easily.
All the kids are standing in the middle of the town square, they packed all the kids in all together which is pretty impressive, District 7 is a pretty big district. All the adults hug the side of the large blood red rope that hold us all in, trying to grip the hands of the younger kids. The people that came late stand in far back and watch from the huge tvs that they place around the District. All eyes are focused on the stage in front of us, waiting for the escort to come up to the stage.
We all snap to attention as the escort makes her way up to the stage. Striding up the stairs her spring green outfit and light blue hair. She makes her sweet time to the microphone, the time only a capitolite would have time for. The microphone pops out right at the same place her mouth it, adjusted to the inch. Pursed lips open and out comes the fake capitol accent, hinted with joy.
"Welcome, welcome to the 80th annual games. I hope you all are having a good day!" Her shrill voice echoes throughout the whole square. A handful of people clap, but that's it. Her head shrugs up and shakes before returning to her original position. "Now let's let the mayor talk and then onto the reaping!" Her last word is more excited louder then the rest. Chip and Ash, our two victors look away into the sky. Both of them are dressed in their fine clothes.
The mayor hops up from his seat, he is a skinny man. He is balding quite quickly, you can notice it each year at the reaping. His smile indicates a hint of nervousness as he looks towards the cameras trained on him. He starts to ramble on about how the capitol has been so good to us and how the capitol has done everything ever. But do we care? No. Everyone hates this part, why can't we just skip to the reaping and get it over with?
The whole district's wish finally comes true. The reaping is now going to happen. A pair of white clothed peacekeepers grip the side of a beautifully carved wooden table and bring it up right beside our escort. Leaving behind another one that will be used for the boys. Perked on top is a giant bowl, filled with white slips that almost reach the tip of it. My eyes scan it over, 28 times my name is in there, 28 times.
"Ladies first!" She says in a quick manner before twiddling her fingers in a gloved bright white glove. The tension was so thick, you could cut a knife through it. Slowly, for effect obviously, she brings down her hand into the bowl and twirls her hand in it. Bringing up many of the papers in a white dance of papers. Finally deciding on one, she pinches it. It emerges from the crowd of papers, it opens and is read before I can blink.
Her voice rises in a high pitch but clear voice. "Natasha Woodark!"
Who was that unlucky soul? Wait, that was me was it not? Maybe if I stand here longer the name will transform into someone else's name, won't it? But that won't be allowed, the peacekeepers grumbling beside me won't let me..
I have no choice but to follow. I am ripped from the crowd, jerked by the muscled arm and thrown into the pass made for the tribute to walk through. I get up quickly, wiping the dirt off my skin. No one makes a sound and no one moves to volunteer. Don't cry! Don't scream I command myself before making my way up.
Only now I really realize, I am not some kid from District 7 in the 80th annual reaping. I am the 80th annual female tribute for District 7.
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