Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with the 1st reaping chapter of Death Under the Sky, Chapter #2: The Jewels of Panem. The way I am doing reapings is, instead of going in numerical order like many SYOT's, I am going in a random order, by using a Random Number generator and generating a random number from 1-12. My first number was 4, so here we are with Chapter 4's reaping. We shall be introduced to Barrett Thorn and Chasidy Griffith, our dear tributes. Man, it was nice writing this chapter. Did it in a whole day too. Started at 7 PM, Eastern Standard Time U.S, and finished quarter to 10 PM. Not bad, not bad. Enjoy the chapter!
Barrett Thorn: District 4 Male's P.O.V (15)
The cries of nearby seagulls caused Barrett Thorn to smile, as he dug his hands into the cool pallid sand of the shoreline surrounding District 4. Calm waves lapped the shore, splish splash they went with resounding echoes that warmed his heart.
Today was Reaping Day, and Barrett could honestly not have been more excited than ever. Last year, watching the Hunger Games, and the cruelties that his district endured... it made him sick to even think that his own kin couldn't hold a light to the outer lies, such as Districts 10, 11, and 12. For a matter of fact, Pearl and Wake themselves both died together. "Stupid acid rain..." he thought.
Instead of showing up for school like he was supposed to, he thought it would have been a good idea to skip and head down to the beach. On such a momentous day as this, he didn't need to fill his mind with unnecessary things such as the speed of waves and other trivialities. He heard rumors that the victor of the 1st games was going to make a special visit. Barrett grinned to himself, he knew how this year would end. The 2nd Hunger Games would have Barrett Thorn be crowned the new victor.
Killing wasn't necessary for him. It was despicable personally. He wouldn't kill anyone, heavens no. People would do it for him, often how it went. Whenever he asked for something, Barrett received it. The latest fishing rod, a new bed for his room, the highest grade on essay... things like that. With his dusky skin, and even darker cheeks complemented by a curly wave of onyx hair, the darkness flickered towards his eyes- a suave and rich mahogany that captivated all who dared look. Some were harder to trick than others, but he eventually got his way. In all decency, he cared about those he manipulated, as they were puppets and all puppets had a sense of closure... you pulled their strings.
Why, if he had the will to, and half the stupidity to, he'd waltz over to school and demand forgiveness. Just dash those eyes of his, blink once and say... "I'm so sorry..." and the poor teacher wouldn't know what hit her, crumbling like cake to the masterful will of such a player.
Despite his... uncanny ways that some found controlling and vile, he hated abuse. Being given the role of never dating anyone for love was hard to come across, he couldn't stand watching a woman be beaten down again and again. Therein lied his downfall, attacking a woman and being forced to kill her was not high on his list of things to do in the arena, once he got there. Well, if he got there.
"Barrett! Son, why do you have to be such a handful?" a voice called from down the boardwalk.
He turned to see his mother, Lush, striding towards him. The apple never fell too far from the tree with him and his family. She had the same complexity as he did, the same warm and inviting eyes that pulsated beauty and understanding... it was her job to get Barrett, to understand him. He loved his mother, as she loved him.
"I don't know," Barrett shrugged. "Forced habit." he smiled.
Lush sat next to him. "I was excused from work. Believed you could have been in class. Walked all the way there, didn't have the decency to let me know. Knew you'd be here if not home. Walsh will have beaten your ass if I didn't."
He scowled. "Don't mention father. Not right now."
"It's not as if I will tell your father-"
"I'll be volunteering today." Barrett interrupted.
"As in for the games? You mean... the reaping today?" Lush asked.
"Yes."
"Oh," the mother was silent. "Why?"
"To appease father I guess. I've been disappointing him lately, I can see it in his eyes. Failing. Combat training hasn't been going the best, least in the hand-to-hand category... brought home those marks and they were mainly negative. Told me that no son of his would enter those games on their own accord acting like that. Had to get stronger. Which I have. So now, I go into those games and make it to the end. If I win, he gets to be proud of me."
"And if you die?" The word felt like fire and poison to Lush, as it slipped off of her tongue.
Barrett drew a box in the sand, adding a tally mark in the box. "Just another tally mark in a large box of multiple disappointments and various fails. Can't blame him. With someone like me, my looks, my affects, to then go and do something like die or soil the name of Thorn, it's understandable."
"Or you can wait till later and not volunteer this year. Eighteen years old sounds better." Lush pursed her lips.
"No, it can't wait," he was adamant about his decision. "My volunteering needs to happen today and only today. It'll be another failure in that damn box of his and we can sit here and lie, saying we don't believe it when you know, especially you mother, that I'm right. Sounds as if you don't have any faith in me either."
"That's not true!"
"Words are lovely. Actions are pertinent. Do them!"
"Such as?"
"Anything!"
Lush kissed her son on the forehead. "I can never change your mind, seems you are stuck in this mindset of volunteering. Personally, I'd ask you to wait. Or never do it at all. A mother does not a have a child just to see them die."
"You won't have to. I'm not dying in the games. I'm going to win."
"Cockiness is not-"
"I'm not being cocky!" Barrett yelled, flinging sand up everywhere.
The mother was breathless, shocked and surprised. Rash outbursts weren't all too common form her son. He was normally calm and collected. "I do have faith in you sweetheart. I'm sure the entire district will be backing you when that time comes. But, darling, realize that things such as this are heavy on our hearts. Walsh will be crushed, as will I. You even said it yourself, repeatedly at dinner that you don't like killing! In these games, it seems as no one gets by without raising that axe or sword and drawing blood."
"I make people kill for me." he said it as if there were no issues. The word kill was all too familiar to him. Heard it nearly everyday in the academy.
After the end of the 1st Hunger Games, District 1, 2, and 4 in an unanimous decision, decided to build special schools that derived off of a normal school for other subjects. They were called academies, nothing too simple, nothing too fancy. The ones enrolled were children from the age of ten to eighteen, as specified from the televised announcement that the Hunger Games would continue. Giving kids an extra two years to prepare meant massive advantages one could only fathom in the arenas bestowed to their tributes. Barrett started last year, and while not being the greatest at fighting girls his age or older in the ring, or for the fact that hand-to-hand combat was stressed... he found comfort in the water, holding a pronged trident that would spear fish and flesh alike.
A few of his friends abandoned him, his new outlook on the world was devastating to hear; an enlightened man turned into a monster who craved action and bloodshed while orchestrating everything from afar. Twas the goal of a puppet master. The arena would be his great stage, not caring if Head Gamemaker Jerald Donner had anything to say about that.
"How would you exactly do that?" Lush questioned her son.
"My tongue can be promising," Barrett admitted, blushing. He never told his mother of his... influences. "I make offers you cannot forget, offers you cannot turn down. Those who do my bidding and will then are rewarded by someone else killing them, someone else doing my dirty work. A game of dominoes." he laughed.
"That would be considered a dictatorship, dear. Wouldn't be any better than President Snow."
"Do not compare me to that snake of a man!" he suddenly growled. Barrett Thorn hated nothing more than name of Ammadeus Snow, so called benevolent leader of Panem. He didn't get to know the president like Cranston did, and unless he won, he still wouldn't.
Lush rolled her eyes. "I wasn't, silly. I am looking out for you because-"
"It is the role of every good mother. I know. I know. You say it all the time."
"Only because I love you."
"I love you too."
"Do you mean that?"
"Of course I do. Mother-"
"There's a sure way of proving to me that you do."
"And how's that?" Barrett raised an eyebrow.
"You come home from these games a victor, and you win. I'll know you love me just from the fact you fought to get home, you couldn't bear the thought without us." Lush hugged him.
"Strong and tender words from such a careful woman." Barrett teased.
"Cool it, or I'll protest against you even getting on that stage."
"Alright... alright."
"I need you back at the house in an hour," Lush said, standing up. "I'm going to go get your father. Reaping starts at noon. Be on time, dressed in something more decent than just a casual shirt and slacks, Barrett."
"I know mother, I can do some things without you, you know."
"I love you."
"I- I love you too." Barrett licked his lips, watching his mother turn around and vanish up and over the sand dunes, back into town, back into a world he couldn't wait to leave behind. He scratched his neck, picking at a scab. "Did I mean it?" he pondered.
Barrett looked out over the sea, one gigantic mass of cerulean flowing in and out. One day, when the games were all said and done, and he was too old to remember, there his home would lie. Out on the ocean, in a world where your neighbors were dolphins and great white sharks or the occasional turtle. Where the crimson puddles of blood wouldn't haunt you in nightmares, how silence would fill a gap normally drowned in one's screams.
The arena was only temporary, it would be two weeks out of his daily life. He'd return, everything would be normal. Such would not be the case, as Barrett Thorn would soon find out.
Chasidy Griffith: District 4 Female's P.O.V (15)
Mornings were never Chasidy's specialty, never have been, never were, and certainly never will be. She yawned, sitting up in bed to see that the sun was peeking through the windows, a gentle breeze quietly lifting the curtains, and that she woke up later than she intended to.
A clock was on the far wall, impressive in color and the ivory metal that constructed it. The hour hand was halfway in the middle between the black donned numbers 11 and 12. The reaping was in half an hour. Her eyes widened to the size of cantaloupes. "Oh shit!" she breathed, throwing off her covers.
Today was reaping day. Oh hell. Oh hell... oh hell. Truth be told, the Hunger Games were not the most appealing thing to ever happen in her life- ones killing others for the enjoyment of a populace who didn't know their right foot from their left... sickening. Despicable. Beyond words many could describe or imagine. She understood perfectly that one year was fine, two was stretching it, three was inhumane, and any number beyond that was unbelievable. "You'd think that by the third time we'd all know our lesson. Hell, it's ridiculous that we're forced to even view this. We took their lives, they take ours. It's a fragile and dare I think it, brilliant system." she thought. Chasidy snorted to herself. Something being brilliantly fragile was an oxymoron, a glass cannon that'd shatter on impact from any blunting force.
Now, given her views on what the Hunger Games represented, it did make life interesting for the weeks that the games took up. Despite her claim that she hated them, deep down she couldn't wait for the exhilarating thrill watching one idiotic tribute go down after another, the momentous beauty could not be understated. Did she get pleasure out of it? No. Chasidy wasn't a sadist. She was an opportunist. The games gave her an opportunity, to be something greater than nothing, to have a life outside of a fisherman, if she was to come back from it. Volunteering was out of the question. Only a nitwit without a brain would be stupid enough to toss away life that easily. Being drawn scared her, and in the back of her mind, Chasidy wished so evilly and desperately that if her name was unluckily pulled out of the damned bowl, a girl with no intelligence whatsoever would valiantly take her place. Just a hope, one that was more than likely never going to happen. Not everyone took a liking to the academy, not everyone was prepared to fight and brave the arena.
Chasidy twisted her hair into a braid, one simple fishtail braid that rested on the side of her neck. For being in District 4, home of the blonde bronze specimen, it was ironic that she was born with such dark hair, the midnight sky above a lush forest, or the filter from coffee beans. Her eyes weren't of a regular color either, decadent and steely gray flashed back at her from the mirror laid against the side of her room.
She opened her closet, one made of wood that pulled back by a string and pulley system. A simple dress, nothing with much flair, was the only article of clothing that greeted her. "Just great... I knew I should have worn this instead of my other dress last week for the formal. Great, now I'll look poor to the rest of the district. Joyous." she thought sarcastically.
Sighing with contentment, the girl reached into the closet and pulled out the dress, a plain blue that represented the ocean on a chilly, winter day. Stripping off of her pajamas, she tossed the clothing on. Cleaning her body could wait later. It wasn't as if she was going to be picked to go into the Hunger Games.
Walking out of her room, she found the door to her kitchen wide open. She frowned. Normally her father was in the kitchen at this hour, door locked, smells of grilled fish and lemon butter with eggs wafting her house. Leaning around the corner, she saw the room empty, dishes in the sink, table tidy and clean. A single note was placed on the vase of flowers in the center, a wilting and dying violet. She picked it up, rolling her eyes several times. It read:
Dear Chasidy, my lovely girl. I apologize that I will not be here for reaping day. I was called on Capitol business with the town mayor for this weekend, and in his stead as he must be at the reaping, I am his interim replacement till he can arrive. I am sorry that there was no breakfast made for you, I had to leave late in the night. I wanted to say goodbye, but you were passed out, a bottle of champagne clutched tightly in your right hand. Sweetie, when I get back, we'll discuss this drinking habit of yours. It is where all this extra weight comes from; heavy drinking causes this. I'll be back early Sunday morning. For the mean time, there is a set of cash per day in my room. Use that for your meals and shopping over the week. The dear old lady down the street will be checking on you from time to time- if you go somewhere, let her know. P.S, that champagne bottle has been emptied down the drain. For your sake.
~ Sincerely, your loving father Gull Griffith
Chasidy snorted, crumbling the note and throwing it in the sink. "Of course he's not here. Why would he be?" she hissed under her breath. Gull Griffith, great father extraordinaire, always missing, never home... delightful parent.
She wanted to hate him and his compulsion to work- he was a workaholic and that would be his downfall. Being somewhat considered head adviser to the town mayor in the financial department, his job was important and required transit all across Panem. "What a loving man he is, huh? Can't even have the decency to stay behind on a day where his little girl fears for his life. If- if I'm picked today, and he's in the Capitol... last night could be the last time he'd ever see me. Asshole."
In the time that was ten minutes to noon, Chasidy grabbed an apple off of the rack pressed against the kitchen counter, took a bite, and walked out of her house into the salty air of District 4. As announced by the town mayor, the reaping would be held in the town square, so all the kids viable for slaughter, erm... selection, could be roped off like a bunch of cattle. That was something you'd see in District 10, not 4. They were the pride of Panem by the ocean, providing fish and desirably decadent food that the Capitol longed for.
Due to her father having a high role in the local government of 4, Chasidy's house was not that far from the town square- Gull had to make passing quickly to and from work so fast that if you would blink, he'd be gone. She didn't mind if her home was in the outer banks of the district, exercise would never hurt someone.
Banners with the logo of Panem were draped up and down the walls of the Justice Building, where the mayor lived, gorgeous sapphire chiseled stone that when the sun illuminated off of the dazzling gems, aquariam styled lights danced on the skin of those in the square. That beauty was covered up by the banners, cold cardinal and halcyon swirls blending to form a sickening mustard color with a harsh red to boot. Chasidy was pushed roughly from behind. She turned around, almost wanting to punch the idiot in the face.
"Watch it!" she growled.
She blinked, realizing it was Barrett Thorn, a guy in her academy class due to being the same age. Although Chasidy hardly ever showed up, being associated with the names of her fellow classmates wouldn't require much concentration.
"Sorry. Did someone twist your panties in a wad?" Barrett smirked.
"No," she narrowed her eyes. "I just may twist yours."
"Hey, if we're both in that arena, I give you full permission!"
"You're disgusting, you know that?"
Barrett gave an innocent smile. "I've heard worse."
"Chasidy, dear, please turn around!" a third voice interrupted said girl's rebuttal she was about to lay on cool guy Thorn.
The embarrassed teen faced the voice, said owner being the town mayor, who was holding a needle. "I- uh, apologies Mr. Mayor!" Chasidy babbled quickly.
"Please give me your arm." the mayor instructed.
"Why?"
"Ammadeus Snow requests that every teen from the ages of 12-18 be registered under a system by a blood sample, DNA testing and all. It gives us your age, to help gauge things. So, your arm please."
Chasidy complied, hating to see the draw of blood from her own skin. The mayor grabbed her pointer finger, puffing up the ball on her finger. She winced as he inserted the needle, the pain was unbearably excruciating for something so tiny. A single droplet of blood was extracted from her skin, and then the drop was placed on a slide, taped to a paper. She watched in amazement as the cut covered itself, automatically healing. There wasn't even a scab.
"That's-" she started.
"Miss Griffith, I have many more of you to allot for. Please move on. You're fifteen, go stand in the section marked for the fifteen year olds." the mayor instructed, not giving her any attention, instead grabbing Barrett's outstretched hand behind her.
Chasidy huffed to herself, marching off from the table. Roped lines sectioned off the town square into fourteen individual sections, signs placed at each section that flashed an age. Her eyes seized the neon pink sign that illuminated the number 15, and she went to the rope. Another girl her age lifted it up for her to step under, and Chasidy entered.
The sun did little to comfort her, as the teens ages twelve to eighteen, boy and girl, were filed into their appropriate sections, the tense air of the town square becoming tight and heavy, so each labored breath was painful and felt like lungs scraping against hard rock surfaces that stabbed and jabbed away.
A hush fell over the crowd, as the doors to the Justice Building promptly opened up at noon, right on the dot, not a second too early, not a second too late. Generalized reactions that were expected roared up from the crowd as the lonely soul of Cranston Ervack, victor of the 1st Hunger Games, walked into the harsh sunlight. He covered his eyes, the brightness momentarily stunning him.
Chasidy couldn't help it, she had a hand over her mouth in shock, agape and terrified. He looked terrible. The former male tribute from District 8 had dark circles under his eyes, the cheery emerald glow she so vividly remembered seeing on screen only a year ago replaced by something hallow, one that was fake and visibly not true. She could only imagine what those games did to him. It came full circle. Chasidy Griffith was not going into those games without a fight, resistance the entire way.
Cranston's hair was parted neatly down the middle, a light velvet jacket covering a deep black button down and dress pants. He gazed out amongst the crowd, eyes scanning for potential candidates, those who'd be shipped off to their deaths. Their goofy grins would soon be paid tenfold in stupidity, only when a knife was at their throat, their blood coating the emerald green grass... then their mistake would be realized.
He tapped the microphone, a burst of static causing him to jump. Cranston shook, but Chasidy couldn't place if it was rage or fright. The victor stepped up to it, knowing he had to somewhat attack it full force. "Good afternoon District 4. If you don't know who I am, then we'll get familiar. I am Cranston Ervack, from District 8, victor of the very 1st Hunger Games."
"We all know who you are!" a sixteen year-old shouted from the crowd.
Chasidy rolled her eyes. "We're not even in it more than two minutes and people are already calling out. What is this?"
"Pleasure is all mine." Cranston replied sarcastically. She smiled at this, happy somewhat to see that his light hadn't vanished completely.
"Go to hell!" the same person screamed at him. Chasidy scratched her neck. Looked like someone wasn't his biggest fan.
"Today is reaping day," the victor continued on speaking as if nothing was stopping him. "Today... one man and one woman from each district will be selected to participate in the second annual Hunger Games- a fight to the death in an arena..." he let his words sink in.
"They weren't kidding..." a girl near Chasidy murmured to herself.
"No shit." Chasidy thought.
"Before I proceed to draw names, there a few new protocols I must address," Cranston said, smoothing his pants, which Chasidy noticed where shaking uncontrollably back in forth. "At the request of the citizens of the Capitol, the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 are to combine together and create a force the Capitol calls the Careers. In my games, they were created from the very tributes themselves. This idea caught on like wildfire, and it is your job as a district to uphold this."
"An alliance will never win!" a male from the eighteen year-old's cried out.
Cranston blanched. Thoughts of Rye, and Jake, and Eve, and Nydia, and Mako and all those he lost in the games flickered by. Shaken, but not shattered, the victor furthered his explanation. "The alliance rule created by Ammadeus and Jerald during the second day of training last year is still in effect. Should you be in an alliance, and you kill those that aren't in your alliance, that entire group of people can win. Less of you will have to die. Win-win for all."
"Except that it didn't entirely work out for you." Chasidy reminded herself, shuddering.
"However, there is an exception," Cranston licked his lips. "If you kill someone, whether it be by accident or intentional, that it is in your alliance before the end of the games, now the alliance rule will exclude you and now that tribute is fair game as is the rest."
"Ground rules suck, don't they?" a girl from the seventeen year-old's taunted.
"Now, as customary... I shall draw the name for the girls."
Before the very eyes of District 4, a slab from under the stage lifted into view, an impressive bowl filled to the brim with small, folded up pieces of paper. A solid strip of black tape kept the slips closed. Chasidy lost count at the very top, her head swimming that four of those slips had her name on them. Cranston closed his eyes, counting to ten. It was surprising that he had made it that far without collapsing into a fit of tears, spasms, or worse: both. His hand danced around the bowl, grabbing one strand and dropping it back into the pile. A paper stuck out of the rest, crumbled around the edge that stuck out, and the victor seized it.
He was back at the microphone, and he opened the slip of paper. Crisp as day, he read, "Chasidy Griffith."
Chasidy screamed, and she knew she did. All eyes lit up on her, panicked, angry, terrified... multiple emotions reflected in glassy stares that held no emotion from her. She picked her head up, echoing in her mind that the name read aloud was hers. She was going into the games, whether she wanted to or not. And there was not another girl in her district in sight that would volunteer for her. By that point, if someone was willing to, they would have.
The mayor walked over to the fifteen year old section, and lifted the rope up so she could walk underneath it. Chasidy stepped into the aisle, staring formidably at the high rise stage, she could see Cranston's eyes automatically judging her, deciding she was going to die without second glance. Chasidy slowly walked up the steps, stopping in front of the bowl that held the names of the girls. With remorse, she saw the bowl sink into the stage. No time to change things now.
Cranston was back at the microphone. "And now... the boys." He didn't bother taking his time with the guys, as he picked the first one his eyes saw.
"I don't care who I get paired with." Chasidy thought remorsefully to herself.
"Maso-" Cranston started to read off the name.
"I volunteer! Mr. Ervack, I volunteer as tribute!" a voice from the fifteen year old male section yelled out, hand shooting in the air. Whoever was on the card had also been in the same district, as one boy was crouched on the ground, crying, the other, the one who called out, jogging to the stage.
Barrett Thorn. Just Chasidy's luck. His onyx hair flipped beautifully over to the other side of his hair, and from the view the rest of the district had on the ground, the two could have passed off for twins- same body type, hair color, near resembling facial structure. Barrett Thorn and Chasidy Griffith were District 4's representatives for the 2nd annual Hunger Games.
"It looks as if the Hunger Games has the very first volunteer. I am pretty sure other young lads like you will take up the same steed." Cranston said, acknowledging Barrett's bravery.
A lone tear slid down Chasidy's cheek. "I never even got to say goodbye to my father..."
"And now, District 4, here are your tributes. Barrett Thorn and Chasidy Griffith. May the odds be ever in your favor." the victor said.
The two tributes locked eyes, Barrett's smirk making Chasidy want to puke. She couldn't wait to wipe that smirk off of his face somehow, someway. It was possible. No matter how much she hated it, she was getting home alive. If it meant to kill her most trust worthy partner... so be it. There was no going back now.
And there we have it folks! The reaping of District 4! I am trying to make these as interesting as possible, for these do drag on once in awhile. The next reaping Chapter I'll try to have out by Sunday the earliest, no later than next Tuesday. When I start getting to the Capitol, that part is actually easier as it is moreso a copy and paste format. So we have our two tributes for D4! What do you think of them? Do you like Barrett, do you like Chasidy? Do you dislike either of them? Based on how this went, how would they fare in the arena? Let me know, by reviewing! Reviewing will help in prolonging your tribute's life, but ultimately it is the tribute themselves that count. I just did the generator, and we are moving on from District 4, to District 10. We shall see, won't we? Thanks for reading guys, and I'll see you with Chapter 3: Burned to Nothingness. Love you all! Bye~!
~ Paradigm