Almost done with the Reapings! Have you voted on your favorite tribute yet? Just go to my profile page, and right under my username you should see this additional bar with the words, "Who's your favorite tribute so far?" and right next to it, "Vote Here!" Click on "Vote Here!" and YOU get to vote for your favorite tribute. Personally, I'd think if it would be best if you vote later on, once the actual Games/interviews/training score stuff begins.
And this is to Poke Crystals...
Thanks for letting me know that the 3 finger salute is only exclusively for District 12, so I changed Aoife's reaping a bit so she states that the mayor was originally from District 12.
Jay Reeds (FD12)
I lay splayed out in the Meadow, my hand gently picking off the petals of a daisy. The mockingjays flutter over and start singing, and I sigh as I listen to their beautiful tune.
Its always peaceful in the Meadow. I know this because I live here. All of my family are dead. My father left us when I was 2 and disappeared. My mother died a few years later because of heartbreak. My brother went crazy and decided to drink away his pain. He's dead now.
There are still ashes lying upon the fields here. Ashes from the bombing of District 12, which happened during the Second Dark Days.
I still come across some skulls when night falls and I hide in the forest.
I'm not supposed to be here in the Meadow. The Peacekeepers will come and catch me if they find out I do. But there's no where else to go - if you don't count the orphanage down the street. But I've heard the people there are horrible.
And I've had enough trouble in my life, so I thought that this was best. I may only be 13, but I can be useful if I am Reaped for the Hunger Games.
Living in the forest has brought me the skills of knowing which plants are edible and which plants aren't. I'm also very fast, which means I'll likely survive in the bloodbath.
I don't see no use to risk your life to get supplies in the Cornucopia - especially since there's going to be a limited amount this year. I'd rather just find the stuff I need to survive...even if it includes stealing
Especially if it includes stealing.
The sun's high in the sky when the Reaping siren rings throughout the district. I heave myself up, and to a little curtsy to my mockingjay friends.
Hopefully they will make it to the Capitol with me - because I know I am going. Its just this hunch I have.
I stand in the crowd, staring intently up at Lila Zuckerman, our tribute escort. She shrieks, "May the odds be ever in your favor!" into the microphone before skipping towards the girl's Reaping bowl.
Her heavily painted nails clank the edge of the Reaping bowl, searching for the one piece of paper that will determine one girl's fate in this district.
"Jay Reeds."
I knew it. My hunches are never wrong. But I might as well give the Capitol a good show.
I trot over to the stage, putting on the biggest smile ever, eagerly shaking Lila's hand.
I peer into the crowds as Lila struts over to the boy's Reaping bowl. Which boy will accompany me to the dreaded Hunger Games? Will it be a nerdy boy? A strong boy? An annoying boy?
"Ash Birchwood."
I frown. This boy isn't anything I just thought. He just seems shy and...nice. Not some good character traits for the Games.
When Lila tells us to shake hands, I look into his eyes. I see fear.
Oh well. What a shame. He shouldn't be afraid when he should KNOW that he's most likely going to die out there. There are others...stronger, quicker, smarter than him. Not to mention the Careers...despite the fact that they might not have enough weapons, surely one of them knows how to make one...
I wish good luck to him.
Elana Trotyle (FD7)
I chisel the last flower onto the arm. Finally! Done! I stand back and admire the chair I just finished. It's one of my best - from a tall redwood my brother especially picked out for furniture making, it's wood is sturdy but not super hard, and it's color is pleasing. I can just imagine it with a plump red seat and a beautifully embroidered pillow...
I sigh. Like all of my pieces, it shall go to some wealthy person in one of the rich distrits. How they take credit on our good work, barely doing anything themselves! How they -
I immediately walk out the door to the woods. The woods make me happy, calm me. I often in them. Hunting, although technically illegal, is so hard to resist with the squirrels and deer all over the place. I walk up to an oak in which I had set one of my snares in and grab a vine. Mindlessly tying it around my waist, grabbing another vine, and using it to walk up the tree to some branches.
I then smile. This is the fun part. After ripping the vine off of my waist, I bound up into the branches. I find a snare I had set in a buch of leaves, along with my sling. The snare has a squirrel in it. I grab the squirrel and the slingshot in my teeth and leap to the branches of the nearest tree. This goes on for a while, the joyful swinging, landing, climbing, grabbing, resetting, and then swinging again. I get a bunch of birds and squirrels, but I need something bigger. I sit in the tree I stopped in for a while before I see a deer. I load a pinecone from the pine I am in into my slingshot and twirl it. Once it becomes a blur, I look, aim, and stop swinging, sending the pinecone into the deer's head.
I jump down from the tree with my game and slingshot and inspect the deer. Dead? No, just knocked out. I take out my knife and cut it's throat, and then smile. After tiredly carrying it to my house, I slouch in a chair the moment before the Reaping sien sounds.
I drag myself out of the chair and walk to the Town Square, taking a place in the front. Soon others file in, bringing the chatter with them. The tribute escort, Zane Duckerson, smiles at us, and heads over to the boy's bowl first, which is something odd. Usually it is the girl's first. He swirls the papers in the bowl around and plucks a slip out.
"Guy Seville."
Oh, him? He's only one year older than me, 14. But he needs so many more tesserae for his family than I do, his chances must be so high.
Zane then walks over to the girl's bowl. He plunges his hand down deep into the bowl and picks out a slip. Unfolding it, he reads, "Elana Trotyle."
Time seems to stop. No, it can't be me! Sure, I'd gotten three tesserae, adding to my two slips for being 13, but thats only five! In thousands! What about that girl over there with her 42 slips?! And if I die in the game, what will I my family do for food? I'm the only one who hunts, and although they can sell things and buy food, soon they will run out!
"Elana Trotyle?"
I stiffly walk towards the stage. The Hunger Games aren't fair.
