Lilith Sower
Lilith's reaping day was just like all the others in her small corner of District 11. When it was time to end the gathering before everyone collected in the town square, she looked wistfully up at a pink sunset, broken apart by dark, heavy branches. When she was younger, she often wished she could turn into a bird, her arms becoming wings, her form becoming so light that it could be lifted by the warm wind, carried far away from where she was.
Though she despised the hard work she was made to do, she always took her time climbing down from the trees. Those few, small moments alone with the sky seemed to give her enough strength to go on from day to day. But she had to be careful; if she stayed too long, one of the authorities would come and viciously yank her back to reality by her foot- an experience she knew better not happen twice.
Lilith was a mousy girl; her brown hair was cut to just above her shoulders, exposing most of her tanned neck. Her hands and feet were small and calloused from forever climbing trees. Her family was composed of a mother, a father, and a younger brother who was just learning how to walk.
It was evident, once she got to the square, that those in charge of the public affairs tried to make it a festive occasion, though it was really anything but. Rows of leaves hung on strings across the square and short, white candles burned from their holders on the sides of buildings, creating a soft light against the cool pink sunset.
She saw the globe-like ball that held the girl's names. She saw the woman from the Capitol reaching in and pulling out a piece of paper. But from the moment Lilith's ears picked up her name being echoed across the town square, her world became a blur. She could not remember a time when her heart pounded as wildly as it did, as though frantic to escape her chest. She did not even hear the name of the boy who would be joining her in the arena.
There are very few people in this world who know when they are going to die. When they get hold of the knowledge, it drives most mad. Why not just get it over with already? Why play a game with, well, me? Again, I am not the bogeyman out to strike poor souls with my sickle. I am simply a gatherer. But Lilith didn't see it that way; and who could blame her? She saw me as the opponent; as the ultimate tribute. And she would be damned if I caught up to her.
Lilith began to shake. Every bone, every muscle, every thought quivered with fear. It must have been a mistake. They must have said someone else's name. It couldn't be her. What had she done to deserve this? She had been a thorough gleaner in the fields, a loyal worker to her district, a loving daughter and sister…Oh god… her family.
When they all returned home that night, it was all Lilith could do to sit still. She sat, foot jiggling, hangnails in her mouth, by the small kitchen table while her mother closed the curtains to the kitchen window and lit several small candles, trying to busy herself in every way she could.
Her father tried not to hover over his daughter and stood over the fireplace instead, hands in his pockets, not looking at anybody. Her brother, who didn't understand why everyone was so solemn, climbed onto his sister's lap and blew a loud raspberry in her face, giggling. Despite the overwhelming sadness that loomed over the household, the giggling became infectious to Lilith which, in turn, caused the mother and father to turn to their children and begin smiling and laughing along.
It felt wrong to laugh- as though their burst of laughter had interrupted a funeral. But it wasn't a funeral, not yet, Lilith thought, a rush of determination flooding her. True, she had no formal training, but she wasn't completely helpless. She could climb trees as fast as any of the gatherers, she could balance herself on branches to gather the ripest fruit without causing a single leaf to fall to the ground. She might not have been able to fight, but if she hid well enough, she could outlast them all.
"I'm going to win," she said out loud, and the laughter stopped suddenly, a flame extinguished by a drop of cold water. Her parents looked at one another lost for words, then looked at her. Her father smiled.
"I know you can. I know you will," he knelt down, almost in a fall, and pulled Lilith to him so tightly, she could barely get her arms out to wrap around him. She felt the cold, skinny arms of her mother wrap around her as well, and felt the warm, pudgy hands of her brother grab onto her shirt and hold on tightly. Suddenly, her mother let go. The group of three only had a small moment to turn to each other in confusion before she returned with something small cupped in both hands.
"Take it," she smiled as she pressed a small, cold, metallic object into her daughter's hand. Lilith stared down at it, gazing at the luster of the object in the orange candlelight. It was her mother's necklace, handed down from generation to generation, a perfect replica of a bird known that once lived called a sparrow. It was brown except for the eyes, which were black, and the wings were flung out, as though it had spent its entire life flying. On its back was half a circle which connected it to a chain that completed the necklace.
"It can be your token item," her mother smiled, the dull light making her eyes swim in tears, though not a single drop fell. Lilith's mouth had gone dry. Words failed her. So she did the only thing expected of a fourteen year old girl in more trouble than she ever wanted to be in. She hugged her mother.
The sound of beating hearts is the loudest the first day of the Games. Thundering, pumping, palpitating… a bloody river with silver slivers of adrenaline darting spastically to and fro.
Lilith stood in her respective spot, waiting for the buzzer to sound. Waiting for the games to begin. She clenched her toes in her skin- tight, black boots, ready to dart as soon as the doors opened. The sparrow on her necklace felt cold as it nestled against the lower part of her neck.
She tried to breathe, but her lungs were having trouble letting go of the breath she last took in. She let it out slowly. She couldn't hyperventilate then- not with so many people watching; she would be a target for certain if she showed weakness before the Games even started. Instead, she breathed in, as calm as she could be. She remembered the promise she gave her family- remembered the strength in her father's eyes when she vowed she would win.
She had to win.
She had to hide out. Just hide and outlast them all, was her plan. She wasn't the type to join the Careers in their gang, wasn't the type to charge and kill as many as she could; she couldn't kill…could she?
But what if her plan succeeded? What if only she and one other person was left? Who would kill whom?
The buzzer sounded and the doors flung open.
And may the odds be ever in your favor.
A knife to the throat is certainly no pleasant way to die. But it's better than other methods.
Chaos was all around her. As soon as the buzzer released them all from their cells, everyone sprang, as though jolted. Some ran for the cornucopia while others ran for cover in the rocky landscape. Lilith knew the mountain of supplies was a death trap- a very tempting death trap, but it was clear she could see me sitting there, beckoning her.
Which I didn't. Just to clarify.
As she ran, she spotted a loaf of brown, grainy bread that had been dropped by one of the contestants. As she bent down to pick it up, a small spear whizzed over her head, piercing the ground beside her in a panic, she turned and saw a tall girl with tanned skin and black braided hair running at her, more spears in hand.
"Bitch! That bread's not yours- I saw it first!"
Heart jumping in her throat, Lilith wrenched the spear out of the ground and ran for her life. She ignored the other battles going on around her and ran for the rocky terrain of the mountain.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. More spears flew overhead, narrowly missing her. Once she had reached the mountainside, she put the loaf of bread in her mouth so she could climb more easily. All she wanted was to put as much space as she could between herself and the crazy girl with the spears. The entire side of the terrain that was exposed to the cornucopia was made entirely of rock and the climb was at least thirty feet high.
The mountainside was littered with tributes trying to climb over it. Some were clever about it and were climbing up by a rope, while others depended more on chance and had used a grappling hook to hoist themselves over. Some of the more ruthless tributes- the Careers, probably, Lilith thought anxiously, stayed on the ground and took shots at anyone who was slow; any others were too fast to be caught.
Her entire body felt as though it were on fire as she pulled herself upward. Gravity seemed to have doubled since she was last on the ground; her arms and legs shook, and it was all she could do to keep hold of the spear and not bite the entire way through the bread.
She could hear the mad scuffling of the girl with the spears, and was the smallest bit relieved when it sounded farther than she had expected. She must have been a fast climber or she had been too high up, because the Careers didn't try to shoot at her.
Finally, finally, finally, she made it to the top of the mountain. There, waiting for her were, oh thank whoever-is-up-there (I'll never tell), were trees. They weren't like the orchard trees she had been stationed in when she was in District 11; they were tall, had a thicker, dark brown bark, and had needles in the place of leaves. Though they lacked the sweet smell of fruit, they had another smell; a rich, woody smell that reminded her somehow of the winter. Still, though, they were trees. Strange as they were, she could still climb up and hide.
Just as she was making to climb the lowest branch, she heard the whoosh of another spear and the dull thunk as it embedded the bark close to her. Without a second thought, she climbed up the lowest branch and reached for the second one when she felt herself being grabbed and pulled away by the tall girl.
Taking hold of the tree with one hand, Lilith took the spear and hit the girl hard on head, shouting a muffled: "Leave me alone!" through the bread before rocketing up to the treetop. When she got to the top, the branches and needles began to thin and she could see a very white, very cold sky. She hesitated for a single moment, her breath caught with wonder as she saw snow beginning to fall.
Suddenly, everything went black. An immense pain came from her back and traveled like lightening through her chest. Her grip became a ghost and she fell to the ground, the small bird on her neck, still lost in its flight.
It's sad, isn't it? The death of a girl so young she still wished she could taste the sky. I am telling you these stories for a reason: the Hunger Games must be stopped and those who died must be remembered. Their existence is about to change yours.
A/N: Hey everybody! Thanks to those who read and a BIG thank you to Life is but a Daydream for the wonderful review! Just to clarify, NONE of the characters in this story are or ever were characters from any of the three Hunger Games books. They are of my own creation. I would also like to take a moment and point out the lovely disclaimer that The Hunger Games isn't mine- it is in fact, the property of Suzanne Collins. Thank you, and have a lovely day.