A/N: Oh my god, I haven't updated in forever, and you probably all hate me by now, but if any of you are still with the story, I am so sorry! I'm back now, and hopefully you won't have to deal with any more super long hiatuses. This will be the last reapings chapter so I really hope you enjoy it!

*Note 1: I have now named all my chapters, so feel free to tell me what you think of them :)

*Note 2: After the reapings chapters I'm thinking of writing some chapters in 3rd person POV, but still focusing on one character. Would you guys be okay with that?

*Note 3: Sorry, unbeta'd all mistakes are mine!


Illiam "Somnus" Leontios- 12:00 PM- Outskirts of District 11

"Somnus Leontios, please tell me you are not sleeping again!"

I slowly blinked my eyes open to find my uncle, Malachai, leaning over me with crossed arms and an extremely annoyed look on his face, "I need some help today before your reapings."

I nodded my head in a hazy manner and forced myself out of bed. Rubbing my temples, the world still looked as if I was dreaming. Everything seemed to be in technicolor and I could barely keep my eyes open. It hadn't been too long ago my uncle had diagnosed me with 'narcolepsy' and well as coined me the nickname 'Somnus, the god of sleep'. It wasn't my fault I couldn't keep my eyes open for longer than a few hours without craving sleep.

Richer people could afford treatments and therapy to help with these type of diseases, however my uncle's junkyard business barely made enough money for the both of us to live, much less afford therapy. Forcing my eyes to adjust to the bright, burning sun of district 12, I couldn't help but we glad we lived towards the outskirts of the district where the sun was slightly less harsh. From what my uncle tells me, the sun is much harsher towards the center of the district.

Eyeing me warily as he instructed me what to do, my uncle casually asked, "So, you're really wearing night clothes to the reapings..."

His tone lacked the judgement I was used to, but I could tell he was disappointed in me. He always was, whether it was my clothes or my sleeping issues, I would never be a 'dream child'. I've always been far too tired and far to removed to even care.

"I'll go change..." I mentioned quietly.

My uncle gave me an approving nod as I walked back into our small shack to change. Digging through my the few clothes I owned, I choose a white shirt with some dusty grey slacks I wasn't even sure belonged to me. I presumed this is what the rest of district 11 would show up and I wouldn't stand out too much, despite my pale skin and blonde hair.

After heading back outside, I went back to the task my uncle had assigned me- sort through three of the new boxes that had just come in. Often some of the wealthier residents of district 11 would through out quite valuable items, which my uncle and I would sort through and put to use. The business wasn't too popular and barely made enough money to get by, however it was far better than nothing.

Humming a lullaby my mother had once sang to me, I dug out a cracked porcelain plate from the bottom of a garbage box. It wasn't worth too much in its condition, but my uncle could fix it up, and sell it for a little bit of extra money.

The more I dug through the bins, I couldn't help but feel extremely annoyed with the wealthy. They threw out clothes in perfectly fine condition, just because they were out of fashion, they didn't have to go what we went through to find scraps to wear. The wealthy were just every bit as awful and as spoiled as those ignorant Capitolites. These kinds of thoughts could easily get anybody killed, but my uncle was completely into all 'rebellion' ideas, and I supposed being around him so much made me pick up a bit of those ideas as well. But unlike my uncle, I knew those ideas were fruitless, Capitol or no Capitol there would always be rich and poor and Capitol or no Capitol, I would still have to deal with my condition, and Capitol or no Capitol, life for people like us wouldn't change.


After a few hours of sorting through some rich district elevener's trash, my uncle decided we should head to town for the reapings. I instantly felt a wave of exhaustion pour over me as we headed towards the town square. I forced my eyes to keep blinking so I'd stay awake and not drop flat on my face (I was known for doing that).

Walking through the more populated part of d11, I felt strange looks surrounding me as I headed towards the check in line to get my finger pricked. Almost instantly, I changed my mind and walked away from the line, I had a little while before the reapings started and I really didn't feel like being around all those people. I preferred to keep to myself.

With my disease, I never really fit into society and I was more than glad I spent most of my time with just my uncle on the edges of the district where I didn't have to face people as much. The funniest part is, is that if I actually did gain up enough guts to strike up a conversation, it would always last and most people would feel quite at ease with me.

After my little detour from the check in line, I walked back to the line and stepped in, right behind a dark skinned- curly haired girl who seemed be not too much younger than me. Unlike most, she seemed to be perfectly happy to be here. It was odd, but even I had to admit her confidence was almost contagious, as well as refreshing.

The more thoughts that flooded throughout my mind, the more I had to wrestle with the sleepiness that attacked me. As soon as I was sure I was about to nod off, the peacekeeper in charge of taking our blood, muttered out a gruff, "You're up, son."


Carmine Selinat- 11:40 AM- Baylor Misty Fields

I hated district 11. I hated the heat. I hated the rules. And worst of all, I absolutely, positively hated farming.

Although it was reaping day, we still had to complete our morning shifts, so here I was in the fields attempting to harvest a few crops before my shift was over. My boss was absolutely dreadful to face, so everybody did their best to make sure we had enough crops to please her. She overworked and underpaid us, but we were all so desperate for even the smallest amount of money, we did her bidding. Despite the awful conditions she put us through, Baylor Misty was rude to everyone and always had this elitist attitude surrounding her.

Wiping the dripping sweat from my brow, I picked another ear of corn and dropped it in the basket. Once my basket was filled, I headed back through the maze of crops back to the main barn.

Just my luck, Baylor Misty herself was checking everybody haul. Standing in line behind a few of the other farmers, I turned back to one of the workers behind me and muttered, "Looks like Bitchy Baylor's on duty today..."

The young worker behind me couldn't be too much older than I was, but he cracked a smile and gave out a little snort. I was about to pass another sassy comment, when Baylor walked over to us.

"I couldn't help but hear a little disturbance back here..." Baylor said in her typical honey voice, which everyone knew was fake, as her tone turned venomous towards the end of the sentence, "Is there something I should be aware of?" she asked, lifting up a single, perfectly manicured eyebrow.

I shook my head and replied imitating her honey tone, "No, nothing wrong..." Rolling my eyes, I muttered under my breath, "Other than the fact, that you're a big bitch and awful person."

Apparently Baylor had better hearing than I gave her credit for, but she glared at me then spat, "Excuse me, could repeat that last part, peasant?"

Giving me a snide and challenging look, I knew I shouldn't argue back against her, but for the life of me, I couldn't fight the urge to stand my ground. I hated the unwritten rules of society that dictated that the poor had to rely on the rich and be kind to them, no matter how poorly they treated us. We would always be in their debt.

Smirking, I couldn't help but snap back, "I said, you're a big bitch and awful person."

I could tell I hit a nerve, because Baylor Misty's left eye began twitching and she seemed unable to form a compressible sentence. Either she didn't like what I was saying or she just was in shock somebody was standing up to her, but either way, the rest of the workers had all stopped whatever they were doing and were watching the situation seriously.

"That's right! I said it, you can't treat us like this. You may be Baylor Misty, richest girl in all of district 11, but you can't treat us like this! We deserve better!" I said at the top of my voice.

A roaring silence filled the air, but I could tell I had the silent support of all the other workers.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Farm." Baylor spat out at me.

I smirked at her, and gave a mock bow, "Gladly."

As I marched out, I only had one thought on my mind: How was I going to explain this to my parents?

Thank god the reapings were today.


Before I knew it, Dora Viks and her masses of blonde hair were on stage, ready for the reapings. Her hair was in wire curls, similar to mine, however, her blonde locks looked far more glamorous than mine would ever look.

Rolling her eyes at one of the peacekeepers who offered her a hand up the stairs of the podium, she tapped the microphone then gave an annoyed look to the audience. The one thing that district 11 appreciated about Dora, was that unlike most escorts, she was honest and refused to resort to euphemisms or any Captiolite nonsense, she was aware that we hated the games and wasn't going to force us to like them. She simply did the best she could at her job, then went on with life.

"So, let's just get to this, shall we?" Dora asked, already making her way to the female's bowl. Without any silly hand gestures, she pulled out a card and read out the name loudly and slowly, "Carmine Selinat?"

My heart began pounding heavily, before returning to its normal pace as I headed up to the stage silently. Just a little while ago, I was glad it was the reapings so I could avoid my family and the shame, but looking at my sobbing mother in the audience, I felt more ashamed and regretful then ever.

Not giving any time at all, Dora had already moved on to the male bowl and pulled out a name, "Illiam Leontios?" she asked, in her sharp voice.

I saw an extremely sleepy-looking boy walk up to the stage, and he looked vaguely familiar, he must have been the boy standing behind me in line. Dora didn't give either of us a second look before walking back up to the podium and announcing, "Well here you have it, Carmine and Illiam."

Seth Harvard- 1:04 PM- District 12's Primary School

"Okay guys, here's what we're going to do next. I want everyone to close their math textbooks and turn to page 245 in your history books."

No sooner had the words left my mouth, 22 twelve year olds were shutting their math books, shuffling around their backpacks, and taking out their history books. At only 18 years old, I was pretty young for a teacher, but my school was desperate for a teacher and I was desperate for some extra money, so in the end the school didn't even blink an eye when I fudged my age by 6 years or so. They were fully aware of my real age, but they knew my capabilities and in the situation, they were more than happy to turn a blind eye.

Most of my life, I've grown up by myself. My parents were young when they had me- only 15 and 16 years of age, and clearly not ready to raise a child, so by the time I was 16 myself, I left. I had managed to find a job at the mines and combined with the money I had saved up over the years, I was able to get my own place. Nothing too fancy, but it worked and just recently I moved in with my girlfriend who is rather wealthy.

Today, I was facing a different problem. The problem of the reapings...no not my reapings, their reapings. To be honest, it broke my heart to think that one of my very own students might be reaped, and henceforth, killed...but that's just they way things were, and the only thing I could do to help, was to calm their nerves.

Personally, I wasn't too worried about being reaped, after all I had a good job with decent pay, and I haven't had to take any tessare for a while, but it made me sad to see that so many of these kids would have to fight against people my own age. As if to mock our fear, today's assigned lesson would be on the Hunger Games. In my opinion, the last thing we needed was The Capitol shoving more Hunger Games propaganda down our throats, but as a teacher, it was my duty to teach the curriculum, no matter how awful it was.

Luckily, to help my out with the lesson, I had managed to convince the mayor to let a very special guest join us. Despite that fact that Haven Claire was my girlfriend, she was also the victor of the 96th Hunger Games. Although she was supposed to mentor for district 12 this year, she had broken her leg and was unable to be eligible for mentoring. Luckily, our only other living victor, Veda Ash managed to step in for her.

Leaning back on my dark wooden desk, I asked, "So, what do you guys know about the Hunger Games?"

"The Capitol does it to keep peace and unity within Panem!" one child exclaimed, without looking, I knew the voice belonged to Gust Couter, a peacekeeper's son, "Right, Mr. Harvard?"

Another young girl, Heather Summers, didn't raise her hand but I could hear her mutter, "It's where innocent children are sent to their death." The matter-of-fact tone she used, more almost more chilling than her actual words. Heather was daughter of a single father, a coal miner whom could barely afford to feed his six children three meals a day.

I gave a forced nod in Gust's direction, as I offered Heather a sympathetic look, "Very good class, with that said, I'd like to introduce you to Miss Haven Claire, victor of the 96th Hunger Games."

Haven hobbled in on two fancy crutches, and gave me a warm smile, which I returned easily, "Thank you very much, Mr. Harvard. So the wonderful Capitol decided it would be an exciting learning experience if I were to talk to you about the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are a...The Hunger Games are a wonderful contest to help citizens earn amazing prizes and ensure peace within Panem."

I heard the bitterness and contempt in her words. She hated praising the Capitol and she hated what they made her do. It was during one of our late night conversations, where Haven broke down. The Capitol had made her a killer, something nobody should ever be forced to become.


"Thanks for speaking with the kids, I think they liked you visit," I said as I sat at my desk grading some papers.

She gave me a disbelieving look, "Seth, I love you an all, but you don't need to lie to me..." she said with a heavy sigh, "I bet they hate me more than ever now."

I chuckled, "You did fine, I promise. Besides, none of it's your fault. They know that."

"So, Mr. Harvard, nervous for your reapings tomorrow?" she asked me, clearly trying to change the subject. I could tell by the way she was twirling her dark gold locks, she didn't want to talk about it anymore.

"No tessare this year, so not really. I'm more worried about them, you know..." I muttered as I marked another answer correct on Carissa Valeen's test. Soon Haven hobbled over to my desk and I pulled up another chair so she could sit next to me.

"Relax, Seth," she said in her soothing voice, that could make anybody believe her, "Everything will work out, I promise. Now how about I help you finish grading these papers so we can go home and spend some 'stress-free' time together."

I let out another chuckle as I split the remaining pile of papers in half and handed a red pen to her, "And this is why I love you."

She laughed lightly, and kissed my cheek, "You're just lucky I'm a very impatient person."

I suppose in a lot of ways I was very lucky, considering everything I've gone through. However if there's one thing I know, it's that luck never lasts long for people like us.


Sephora Dokken- 7:14 AM- The Dokken Household

It wasn't too early in the morning, however I knew both my parents were out. They both worked long hours at my father's medicinal shop which is one of the only places to buy certain remedies as well as the only place for medical technology such as gauze and stretchers. In fact just a few weeks ago one of district 12's victors, Haven Claire, came to our shop for crutches. Today was one of my days to work at the clinic, however due to the reapings I was given the day off.

Our business was rather well known within the district, so as a family we were quite well off and in comparison to some of those from the Seam, we were quite welathy. I hummed a light song as I ran a brush through my light brown hair and readied myself for the reapings. My father had taught me the song and it simply stuck with me. Unlike most of the songs I knew, this one was about a God. As doctors, my parents dealt with a lot of death a needed a way to deal with it.

One of the nurses who they worked with introduced them to a sort of unorganized religion. Although specifically illegal, religion was one of the few things that kept my parents going. Now, when they see people with terrible injuries or death they justify them with what god must have wanted.

Painting my pale pink lips with a deep red lipstick I had kept stashed away deep in my closet, I stared at myself in the mirror. My parents were never keen on letting me wear lipstick. They always insisted it was because I was too young for makeup, but I knew it was because it reminded them too much of blood.

Although both my parents are doctors, they try to avoid anything that reminds them of death. As I only spent two days a week in the clinic, these kinds of things didn't bother me as much.

Stepping outside of my house, I went to check on my garden. Everything from medical herbs for our store to my prized red roses. After, giving them a little bit of water and some all natural compost fertilizer, I plucked a single red rose to pin to my hair. After ridding the rose of any thorns, headed back inside to watch my hands and pin the flower to my hair. I wondered what my would think of the lipstick and the rose, however she wasn't here, I was by myself, making my own decisions.

Due to it being the day of the reapings, everybody seemed to be with someone, except for me. I had a few friends to hang out at school, and the occasional neighbor, but I've never been too close to anybody other than my mother or father. My family has always been viewed as an odd, but necessary family and a lot of people are under the misconception that due to my wealth, I'm extremely entitled. So while everybody is with their loved ones, I cannot help but feel slightly alone.

Soon, before I know it, its time to head to the town square. Neither of my parents are back, so I figured they would meet me at the square. My dad said that as long as I believed in god, I would never be alone, but I never fully understood him. I follow parents and their ideas because they are the biggest influences on my life, but sometimes I can't help but doubt them and their ideas.

However, despite my occasional doubts, having faith brings optimism, and optimism is a very powerful thing.


"Welcome district 12, to the 99th Annual Hunger Games reaping ceremony," announced Scall Ceelee. Scall has always been known for his extravagant hats, and today was no exception. Sporting a top hat with a 2 feet tall, exact replica of the skyline of the capitol placed on top of it, he looked as extravagant as usual.

Despite my darker thoughts earlier, I had returned to my normal far more optimistic self. I had managed to find some of my friends from school as well as my parents, and I realized my reapings nerves must have just gotten to me. Wearing a soft smile on my face, I made eye contact with my mother, who returned an even larger smile back.

As Scall continued to speak, out of now where, the mic seemed to break. He akwardly motioned one of the peacekeepers to come up on stage, and for a while peacekeepers began fiddling with wires and such until they gave up and one of district 12's technicians came and put everything back on track. Although everything had been fixed, Scall seemed to be thrown off of his game.

"So, if everything is all fixed, let's begin the reapings shall we?" Scall asked, obviously ready to get the reapings done with. Walking over to the boys bowl, he chewed his lip nervously, "Oh! What do you know, I'm at the boys bowl...since I'm here let's just start with the boys!" he added in an extremely rushed manner.

"Sooo, ummm, yeah, hold on..." he muttered as he fumbled over the paper, "Ahhh, here we are, Seth Harvard?" he asked. A deathly silence filled the air and nobody seemed able to move as an older-looking Seam boy walked up to the stage. A lot of people seemed to know him and the air was filled with an extremely thick tension. Personally, I wasn't exactly sure who he was, but he looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps, I had seen him at the clinic one time.

As Scall gave the boy a pat on the shoulder and little smile, he walked over to the female bowl. As he dipped his hand into the metallic bowl, I saw a lot of girls around me shift their weight nervously. I, however, wasn't too worried as tessare had never been an issue for me. Smiling a girl next to me who looked like she was about to throw up, the girl gave a thankful look.

The silence seemed extremely prolonged as Scall finally read out, "Sepora Dokken? Sehora? Sephora?"

My heart dropped to the ground, I couldn't understand. My father promised God couldn't let a thing like this happen to me. Was I right earlier? Were my doubts correct? As I walked up to the stage, I dared look behind me to catch of glimpse of my mother sobbing into my father's chest.

The other reaped boy offered me as hand as I climbed up the stairs to the stage, which I reluctantly took.

"So, let's have a round of applause for Seth and Sephora, district 12's tributes for the 99th Hunger Games!"

I tuned out the reluctant clapping as I looked at my district partner.

Roses are Red. Violets are Blue.

Looks like I'm just as dead as you.


So, what do you think of my wonderful poetry? I'm just kidding XD! So anyways, here are the questions:

1) Top 5 tributes?

2) Who do you think has the best chance at winning?

3) Favorite idea:

Illiam: Removed

Carmine: Spunk

Seth: Teaching

Sephora: New Faith