Hi! How is everyone? I had my Leavers Day, so I don't have school until I go to university now XD

I do however; have exams in four weeks time. AAAAAH! This will decide the whole course of my future. What am I doing on here? Well, a guy has to make some kind of free time to keep his sanity…

Anyway, thank you to BamItsTyler for giving me a question!

BamItsTyler: What annoys you most about this fandom?

ElementalEvolution: Well, there are quite a few things! Firstly, I hate it when people write stories and don't finish them. They really annoy me! I mean, I follow a story, and then they just leave me hanging? No! Get your ass back here and finish it! Or at least update it once a month, like I do on my Harry Potter story. Secondly, SYOT's. Some SYOT's are very well written and get almost no attention! Why are people so ignorant? Luckily for me, I have quite a lot of attention when it comes to my SYOT (THANK YOU!), but other authors don't get many interested readers. I feel sorry for them, because frankly, it's rather unfair.

Thank you to thelastofdavid, BamItsTyler, 212degrees, EllipticDART, and WendyHamlet for reviewing! I am grateful for your reviews as usual :)

Thank you to OceaneBreeze13 and 10-Ton-Turner for the District Ten tributes XD

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games in any way, shape or form. I only own the arena and my ridiculously long authors note.


Kip Lightcomb, District Ten Male POV

I can see the morning light through my eyelids. I'm wrapped up in my thin duvet, knowing that I've woken up late. I have slept in on a reaping day.

It's the reapings today. The realisation hits me hard as I realise that I should be ready for the reapings by now.

I scramble out of bed by kicking off the duvet, and I hurry over to my wardrobe. I hunt around for some clothes, eventually finding a grey polo shirt, and grey dress pants, which look good enough to go to the reapings in. Putting on the polo shirt takes some time, and I have to use my left arm to guide my right through it. My right arm has a muscle deficiency and I've had it since birth. My hand is all folded together, like a rolled up carpet that has been squashed. My tanned skin is creased and wrinkled, hanging off of my arm in a sickening manner. The arm itself has a shrivelled appearance, almost as if my arm is a wilting plant.

I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen for lunch. I hate waking up late, because that means I might be late to the reapings. And if the Peacekeepers denounce our family as absent, then we'll get whipped for it.

My eighteen-year-old sisters, Colby and Calista, are in the kitchen. They're twins, and they're good sisters to me. The only thing I find annoying is that they continuously sympathise with me because I am limited to the things I do due to my useless right arm.

"Don't worry! I'll cut up some bread for you," Colby says when she sees my hand reach for the loaf.

"I'll grab the knife," Calista announces, and she walks to get it. I roll my eyes. It is nice of them to do these things for me, and I understand that they mean well, but I wish that I could do something by myself for once, instead of getting help. I got rid of the bullies on my own, so why can't I handle cutting a piece of bread?

I remember when I got bullied and laughed at because of my shrivelled arm. That was until I had had enough with the bullies, and I challenged them to a stone- throwing contest. They set up the targets; small squares of left over wood that hung on the trees in the school grounds. We all threw our stones. Although I only hit one of the targets, I hit it in the middle. Exactly in the middle. People were impressed with me, and they didn't bully me after that. Since then, I have trained myself to improve my aim as much as I can. I still don't have friends, but that's my choice. I prefer to be alone, where I can hear myself think.

Colby and Calista seem to be much happier today, and they were rushing around, doing each other's hair and dresses to make themselves look better for their final reapings. After this year, they are free. They will have escaped from the wrath of the Capitol. They will be no longer eligible to play the worst game imaginable: The Hunger Games. But I'm still at risk for two more years after this one. I'm hoping that I won't get reaped. I'm in there exactly fifteen times. My chances are a lot smaller than the eighteen year olds that have signed up for tesserae to feed their families, but I still have a chance of being picked. Just because I have less slips in there, it doesn't mean that I have no chance of getting reaped. I can very easily be reaped. Anyone could be. No matter how small the chance is, anyone can get reaped. There's no point in wishing that you're not going to get reaped, because someone has to get picked, and it could easily be you.

The probability of Colby or Calista getting reaped is higher than mine, but only by thirteen slips each. They can easily get reaped too. I don't think I would know how sad Colby and Calista would be if one of them were to be reaped. My sisters were eachother's best friends; they would be heartbroken if one of them was sent to the Hunger Games, let alone how they distraught they would be if one of them were to die in the Games.

I'm about to leave, when Mom and Dad get back from work.

"Now, now Kelpie, they'll be fine," Dad tells Mom as he walks in through the door.

My Mom nods at him, and then hugs each of us in turn, holding me for slightly longer than the others. I know that she feels guilty for the fact that she couldn't look after me in the past. She has very little time seen as she works so many hours. If my calculations are correct, then she spends her life working for at least eighty four hours a week, which is over three days of the week working if she was to work for twenty four hours without stopping for food, toilet breaks, or sleep.

The black bags under her eyes, tell me that she didn't get much sleep last night. She never does on the day before the reapings, because she's so worried about one of us getting reaped.

Dad comes into the house, and gives the girls a kiss. He turns to me, and shakes the lump of flesh on my right arm. He doesn't wince or cringe. His face is serious and determined. I like this part of Dad. He doesn't judge me on my disability.

"You can do this Kip," he tells me. "You won't get reaped today, I know it. You can get through this year like you've done so since your first reaping. After this year, it's only two years left for you, and then your future will be there for the taking. Remember m'boy, you can do anything you want."

I nod, and my Dad smiles, his blue eyes twinkling with pride, and his blond hair shining like gold.

Most of our family look the same. We all have hair that mimic rays of sunlight, and we all have the same tanned skin. The only difference between us, is that Dad, Colby and Calista have blue eyes, and Mom and I have brown eyes. We're strikingly similar.

It's probably because the dominant gene that Mom and Dad passed down to us meant that we were to have fair hair. As for the eyes, the recessive gene became dominant, meaning that Colby and Calista have blue eyes instead of brown. Mom's brown eye gene remained dominant, and it was passed down to me.

Colby, Calista and I leave the house and bid Mom and Dad farewell.

"Gunner, I hope they'll be alright…" I hear my Mom say behind me.

"Don't worry Kelpie, they will be." Dad replies, and they shut the door behind them. The three of us walk to the reapings, but I stay far behind the girls, because I need some peace and quiet to prepare myself for the reapings. I calculate that my chances of being reaped, and they are so close to zero that I should be safe. But the chance of me being chosen is still present, hounding me with every step I take.

I sign in, waiting patiently for the Peacekeeper to prick my finger before I can move on. I walk to the sixteen-year-old section, and I wait inside the roped area. I'm relieved I'm not late, and judging by the clock on the large white screen of canvas next to the stage, we have exactly thirty four seconds until the reapings are scheduled to start. I wait for those thirty four seconds, before our escort comes up. She's called Dina Sykes, and she can't help but to talk in continuous rhyme, because she thinks it's glamourous and fashionable. I'm surprised she's not tired of it after three years of rhyming.

"The reapings are fun, so let's get this done!" she trills, rhyming as usual.

The Treaty of Treason is played, and I watch the graphics with awe. If I remember correctly, a machine called a 'projector' is used to play the film to us. I've always been baffled at how the Capitol can create enough technology to make things like this.

Once that is over and done with, Dina skips over to the girls reaping ball, and her golden wig slides slightly to the side. She picks out a slip and opens it, straightening her wig at the same time.

"Oops! My wig is loose, the girl this year is Skyla Truce!"

A moody, brooding girl stalks up to the stage, and huffs as she stomps up the steps, staring coldly at the camera. Nice angle. She seems uncaring and confident. That will definitely get her sponsors.

Dina trots over to the boys reaping ball, and she takes a slip from the bowl. Everyone around me takes a collective breath as she reads out the name on the slip, trying to rhyme it the best she can.

"I feel sorry for the ones at home, the boy today is Kip Lightcomb!"

I internally cringe at the rhyme, but I've still been reaped. I solemnly walk up to the stage, already calculating my chances of winning. It's one in twenty-four without intervening variables such as mutts and the availability of water.

I glance over at Skyla, and she glares back at me defensively. I wasn't planning on teaming up with anyone in the Hunger Games. As I said before, I'd rather have my peace and quiet, plus, my allies would definitely ask about my arm, and I don't want to be judged on my physical appearance.

I know that I need to win to show my Dad that I can do anything, just like he told me I could. I can't fail them. Just because I have one arm, it does not mean that I can't win. So I'm going show them all by winning.


Skyla Truce, District Ten Female POV

So, here I am, walking by myself to the reapings. It's not great to go alone, but I'm going to have to put up with it if I want to be on time.

It's not my fault if my family are going to be late.

I woke up this morning, feeling perfectly normal, until along came the reapings and rained on my parade. My older brother Bernie was swaggering around the house and being a complete ass. He's seventeen, and next year, and it will be his last reaping. Then he'll be exempt from them, the lucky bastard. He's a selfish prick if I can put it nicely. I hate it when his blue eyes flash cheekily when he torments me. And then he doesn't get in trouble for annoying me. And who does? I do.

I'm the second oldest sibling in the house. I'm sixteen years old, but my name is in there quite a few times, because I had to take out tesserae for our family. Bernie had to do it too, but he's trained for the Hunger Games with his friends, so he tells me. I haven't trained, but I can pack a decent punch. My Dad once taught me how to punch someone properly, so I can hold my own in a fight. However, I doubt that a fist could do much in a fight when you're up against a career with a hefty sword.

And then my Mom would swoop in, shrieking like a hag and telling me to do the dishes, or to go out and gather berries from the bushes that grow wild near our house. It's like I'm a slave here, and I hate it. But anything is better than the Hunger Games, so I suck it up. It's a hard life here, but I have to deal with it, or I'll face horrible consequences. Nonetheless, my life sucks so much that I wouldn't be surprised if I was dragged off to fight to the death in an arena.

Our family however, doesn't stop there. I'm not your typical victimised sister that has to do everything for my family. I do much more than that, because there are two younger siblings in the house.

Adam is twelve, and it's his first reaping. I was going to help him get through it, but Mom and Dad yelled at me for forgetting to do the dishes this morning, so I stomped out. I'm probably going to have to deal with my punishment later, but I doubt it will be much more than a long list of chores, so I don't need to dwell on it too much.

Becky is the youngest member of our family, and she's only four years old. She doesn't really understand why there is the 'Hunger Games' and what the 'reapings' are, but she helps me do my chores whenever she can, running on chubby legs to find me things like flowers or pretty looking stones at the side of the road. I rarely smile, but when I do, it's usually because Becky has brought a smile onto my face.

I guess you could say that we're a typical family from District Ten; my Dad works with the livestock all day, and my Mom records the number of animals slaughtered by the District. She controls how much meat is sent to the Capitol, but it doesn't pay very much, because she only works about an hour every day. For the rest of it, she sits down on her fat butt, and watches the world go by. Ever since her friend died when she was younger, she's been bitter towards everyone. I'm surprised Dad married her to be honest.

I guess she takes it out on me, because I am about the same age her friend was when she was sent in.

I pass Hannah's house, but I know that I'll see her at the reapings, because she's always early to them, purely out of nervousness. She's sixteen, like I am, and she walks around on her tiptoes due to a problem with the muscles in her legs. I've heard that there are a few people about my age with muscle deficiencies in our District. I heard that there was some kind of chemical meant for the animals, which accidentally got in the District's food supply, meaning that some parents had deformed babies. I know a girl that only has half a face, and there's a boy in my year with a shrivelled arm. They all used to get laughed at, but we're all more mature now, and we don't bother laughing at each other any more. That doesn't stop the younger kids laughing though. Whenever they laugh at Hannah, I stalk up to them with my fists out, and they scatter.

I walk past a closed shop window, and I see my furious face reflected back at me. My dark brown hair is held up in a ponytail, and the strands of it fly everywhere like a writhing pit of snakes. My brown eyes look as if they could crush you and break every bone in your body with just with one stare. My olive skin makes way for my slightly bared teeth, which are gnashed together. Mom forced me into a purple t-shirt and a black skirt, but with the wind today, I know that she made me wear it in the hopes that it would blow up and cause me embarrassment. What a cow.

I sign in, and walk swiftly to the sixteen-year-old section, pushing down my skirt as it threatens to rise up. I can't see Hannah anywhere, so I'm guessing that she's on the other side of the section. I'll have to meet her afterwards.

The annoying escort bounces around like an idiot on stage, and when she calls my name, I immediately scowl. I can't afford to look like a weakling. Truthfully, I'm not surprised that I have been reaped this year. Discounting Hannah and Becky, not many people show me much kindness, so I'm not surprised that my day had to get worse by getting reaped. If anything it's gotten better, because I won't have to do any chores tonight.

I am going to have to be very careful when I get to the Capitol. With my lack of knowledge, I'm going to need someone to teach me some fighting skill, because frankly, I'm shit at it.

Right then. Let's do this, and show my witch of a Mother that I'm so much better than she is.


I am done! I liked these two tributes, what do you think?

Do you think that Kip's disability will hinder his efforts to survive in the arena? Or do you think he'll get sponsors through sympathy from the Capitolites? And Skyla seems like she has a hard life. Do you think she'll be prepared for the emotional roller-coaster ahead of her? Do you think that she can find an ally to help her to win, or do you reckon that she'll go solo?

Please review! It helps me understand where I'm going right/wrong, and plus, it helps keep the tributes that you want alive.

Don't forget to Ask the Author aka. Me about anything. Just ask me a question, and I'll answer it (as long as it's not too personal). Keep them rolling in!

I'm hoping to update as soon as possible, seen as I'm going to my Dad's next week, and I won't get much of a chance to write. I might get out another chapter before then, but if not, I will see you in a couple of weeks. I wish you well, and have a great day/night!

Bye for now my wonderful readers.
~E.E.