Chapter 7- Districts 7 and 8's Reaping

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

District 7

Anaphora stared at her worn work clothes. The brown in her pants had started to fade to gray and the white of her shirt was more green than anything.

Thwack!

The ax flew into the tree with a thud. Anaphora's face was dripping with sweat. Her long black hair was slipping out of her ponytail. Anaphora's toned figure of 5'4 walked towards a bulky man with black hair and forest green eyes that looked tired as he swung the ax.

"Dad, I'm going to head home and get ready for the Reaping. Okay?"

"That's fine," he replied in a deep voice. Anaphora turned away and headed towards the dusty path of District 7; her home. Her hair fell down as she walked and she shook it out in annoyance. Her eyes wondered along the path gently for no particular reason. The sky was a fresh blue and the sun shone bright. Her icy blue eyes stayed down, to scared to look up for might she might see. The world around her was beautiful. She knew that. She just doubted that the world could be as good as it looked with the Capitol ruling and dragging these wretched Hunger Games on for years.

Anaphora walked home steadily, keeping her head down. After a couple of minutes, a beautiful blonde girl walked up beside her. Anaphora lowered her pace, trying to rid herself of the horrible enemy that stood a foot away. The girl stayed with Anaphora, curving whenever she did or lowering and speeding up the pace.

"You gonna talk? Or are you to shy?" Rose pouted, a smirk showing in her sky blue eyes. Anaphora kept walking. "Ah, she is too shy! Whatever. See you at the Reaping." She strutted away, her hips swaying.

Anaphora arrived at her house. She walked through the small hallway to her simple room. On her bed lay a beautiful black dress. The wispy fabric spread out like wings over the comforter. It looked to go down to her mid thigh. She slipped it on and put her hair up in a new ponytail. The floor was cold as she looked for her shoes. The forgotten black ballet flats lay in a closet off of the kitchen. Anaphora shuffled her feet into them, ready for another Reaping to come and go. Or so she thought.


Wedge stood in his shared bathroom staring at himself through the cracked mirror. His shaved black hair stood at a stubble. His dark skin and black eyes glowed in the subtle light coming in from the dirty window. A few work scars etched his upper arms. The black shirt he was wearing clung to his muscular body. His pants were made out of a thick, treated canvas. A woven belt hung around his waist. You could mistake him for going to work, not the Reapings.

Wedge walked out of the small room, a small limp in his step as he did. He walked into his bedroom to find a girl of 5'6 with long, luscious brown hair flowing down her back sitting on his bed. She stood up and walked slowly into his opened arms, her tears gently flowing into his already stained shirt. She was a lot shorter than Wedge, with him being the massive height of 6'2.

"Shhh, it's okay Eila. We're not gonna get Reaped. You don't have any tesserae in the bowl. Only 6 small strips. It's all going to be fine," Wedge comforted his girlfriend as best he could. Her head came out of his chest and looked up into his eyes. The eyes full of cheer he usually saw were gone and replaced by utter terror.

"Are you sure?" she whispered this softly, the worry taking over her voice.

"I'm sure. Maybe if you grew a little bit you'd actually be put in the 17 year old section," a small grin played across his gentle features.

"I'm not short! Okay? You need to shrink!" she yelled her voice full of agitation, but her face saying otherwise. Wedge smiled a toothy smile and grasped her fragile hand like he would crush it if he put anymore pressure. He led her to the town square, filled with people wondering if their child or sibling would be sent to his or her death today.


Wedge squeezed his girlfriend's hand as they were led to their separate sections. A short man with green hair styled into a Mohawk and purple, glittering skin walked up on the stage. "My name is Delias and I am your escort for the 98th Annual Hunger Games," he said this with a bored tone as if anything would be better than standing on that stage on that particular day.

The video played with the crowd a silent group. The minute man walked to the glass Reaping bowl that held everybody's name in it between the ages of 12 and 18. "Ladies first," he called in a monotonous voice. He unfolded the simple white slip and opened his mouth to speak the words everybody was dreading. "Anaphora Windsor."

Anaphora walked to the stage shakily with tears falling down her face. Her ponytail had slipped again and her wavy, black hair fell in front of her red, tear-stained face. She watched the ground silently as the man took a slip out of the boy's bowl. "Wedge Abbon," he stated, his facial features showing nothing.

The tall boy walked to the stage causally as he muttered to himself, "Damn, I didn't see that one coming." As he looked into the audience from the sturdy wooden stage he saw a girl in the 17 year old section with a look of complete terror decorating her normally beautiful face. A tear slid down her right cheek and Wedge had to fight every urge in him to run off the stage and hold her in his arms.

The doors behind the two tributes opened as they were pushed inside roughly by their escort. The look of complete desperation played across their different faces. They might have been different, but they were thinking the same thing.

I'm going to die.

District 8

Thalia Lintz threw the sharp training knife at the tall oak tree in her backyard. It landed it the center, directly where she had wanted it. She jogged the small way to the tree and retrieved her knife along with the others stuck in the tree.

Thalia walked to the back door of her house in Victor's Village. Her dad had won about 30 years ago by throwing a knife straight between the tribute from 2's fierce, blue eyes. Thalia had been trained, since she was little enough to hold a knife, how to throw. Her father was a sucker for attention and would get any he could grab, whether it was good or bad. He had made Thalia's older brother volunteer one year ago when he was 18. He unfortunately didn't make it past the bloodbath. Her father had started to push her even more as he didn't like the shame brought from his son's failure. He was forcing her to volunteer this year and join the Careers (something her brother decided against). Thalia didn't mind too much, she just hoped she could win.

Thalia strutted to her large, purple bedroom and selected a green dress from her walk-in closet. She slipped off her jean shorts and her t-shirt and put the dress on. She brushed her long,wavy, brown hair till she decided it was perfect. She wanted to get lots of sponsors, which meant she would have to look beautiful for the Reaping and everything else. She could feel the smile growing on her mouth and the twinkle in her sky blue eyes.

She walked out of her house, ignoring her father's good luck wishes and her mother's silence. The air was humid as she made her way to the town square. The sky was a pale gray, like it was still deciding if it wanted to storm or not.

No one's going to be expecting a volunteer this year. Especially one that didn't have a very good reason to be walking up to the stage, she thought in her head as she finished her short walk and stood in the long line of worriers that had to get their blood drawn.


Samuel sat on his torn sheet staring at the white wall. He could feel the voices in his head telling him what to do. He wouldn't listen. Not anymore. He stood up- against their wishes of course- and made his way to the small bench situated in his ragged backyard. He stared up at the cloudy gray sky and listened to the birds sing their morning tunes. He could hear the engines of trains as they delivered the escort and waited to pick up the tributes.

Samuel ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair, making it even more messy than it already was. The voices whispered in his head gently, trying to distract him from his own thoughts.

Samuel, I know you will listen to me, a small girl's voice played in his head.

I'm not listening to any of the three of you wretched creatures! He shouted back in his thoughts.

Well, apparently you are listening to us, a boy's voice said. He sounded to be about the age of 10.

Whatever, Samuel said, attempting to block out the voices that stayed in his head all the time. There were three total, but one hated to speak. The small girl was Delilah and the boy was Max. As for the mysterious third person, Samuel didn't exactly know. Her voice would crack when she spoke and she sounded like an older woman. Her voice would haunt Samuel's head to no end.

He rolled to the ground beside the bench, staring at the fading moon and the rising sun. He sat up in the dewy grass and put his head into his hands. The 14 year old focused his attention onto the fluttering of wings and the scurries in the grass. He couldn't bare to think about the Reapings last year. Faith had been Reaped and he would never forget it.

Faith and him could have been twins. They were born on the same day and they looked exactly alike. She was a girl though. She had been Reaped the year before and died in the bloodbath after getting her head chopped off by her district partner. He had died next and that was when Samuel had started to hear voices. He had ignored them at first, thinking they were only shock, but they continued. He didn't know what had caused it.

Samuel stood up and made his way to the town square, his face showing no emotion.


Zolanda, the District 8 escort, marched to the center of the stage. Her face was furious. Her neon outfit was wrinkled and apparently she was not happy about it. The video played and the speech was rushed with furious glances towards the sheepish designers standing in the background.

"Okay. Ladies first," she marched over to the huge glass bowl and gabbed her hand inside. She frustratedly picked out a slip. She marched back over to the microphone and unraveled the paper which had gotten crumpled when she tightened her fist around it.

Before she could say the name, a calm and collected voice came from the 17 year old section. "I volunteer for the person whose name was on that paper." The girl strutted to the stage. "My name is Thalia Lintz and I'll be seeing you in a couple of weeks District 8," she winked flirtly at the camera.

The escort went to the boy's bowl with a cheerier smile, probably cause of a volunteer in an outer district. She pulled a slip out and the boy's side went into a frozen state. "Samuel Tan!" she called.

Samuel walked up to the stage and smiled and waved to the camera. He figured he would have a better chance if he had some Capitol residents who liked him. He shook Thalia's hand with ease and made his way into the large building. He fell onto the floor in a ball once the doors shut behind him. He knew he was trapped and he wasn't getting out.

Thalia, on the other hand, walked in calmly and was surprised at Samuel's reaction. She shrugged the thought away and made her way to say her goodbyes.


This chapter was shorter because of me only writing two district's reapings. I figured I owed it to you all to update as soon as possible, so I wrote these two and decided to update. The last four districts will be in the next chapter. Please leave me your thoughts on your character (if I wrote about him or her) or someone else's! I love getting reviews and I enjoy reading them! Thanks for being so patient with me and I hope you enjoy this chapter. :D

Much Love,

Mere