Aquatico Espovera, 16, District Four Male, 8 Months Before the Reaping
My bare feet crush the damp sand and my toes curl around the rocks. I honestly don't see why shoes are necessary. Without them you're much closer to the Earth, plus you have better footing for jumps and such. So restricting.
CRASH!
The water sprays me as it collides with the rocky shore. I don't care. Good to keep my silky black hair wet. The water does seem very violent today, smashing around, the stormy sky darkening the colors and making the scene more ominous. I could almost lose myself in the beautiful azure shade, just like those beautiful violet eyes… those lovely red lips…
"And I stand by the sea,
And I look up at the sky,
Just me myself and I…"
The song goes on like that and eventually deteriorates into humming. Just something to fill the empty void of the silence.
Finally I see them, my friends, sitting on the pier I play on, waiting for me. Marlon is there, his tan skin glistening against the waves, blonde hair flowing in the wind. Magnificent. Beside him is Mya, her curly brown hair falling down her neck and a purple flower tucked behind her ear. Gorgeous. Even though they're fraternal twins, they look very different, not even like siblings.
"Why are you here so early?" I ask as I approach them.
"Dad was being too loud," Mya answers.
"Sorry." Mya and Marlon's mother just died recently.
"Almost like he doesn't realize he isn't the only one who's grieving."
"Eh, lighten up." I would normally crack a joke, but my sense of humor is rather cutting and Marlon doesn't seem like he could take one.
"Want me to sing a song?"
Marlon and Mya both nod, and so I start.
"There once was a man down by the sea,
The villagers called him Old Jerry McGee,
The man shucked clams for a livin',
Didn't talk worth a dam,
But when he did it was to say…"
I motion to the twins telling them to sing the next line. The song I picked is funny and upbeat, and so it does well to cheer Marlon and Mya up. We're currently almost alone on the pier. It's the early hours of a Tuesday morning, and the cloudy weather is no doubt an off-putting factor, but those who are come to listen. Before long my bucket is moderately full.
More and more people begin to gather, some even starting to dance in a circle, namely three young sisters, two of which do an elaborate dance with Marlon while the youngest blushes as she throws some quarters into the bucket. Despite many regulars like these, I still know who my biggest fans are. Mya sits beaming at me with those enchanting violet eyes, her sassy façade lost to the beat of my music, Marlon winking at me as he dances with the kids. Oh God I love them so much. How can I choose?
Hours Later
As I'm walking home, I feel lonely. No one to crack jokes to or sing to. When the house finally comes into sight, I'm grateful.
Milo is there waiting for me with his warm smile, as always. "What'd ya make?"
"Fourty-nine and a few cents."
"Bad turnout?"
"Yeah, 'cause of the storm blowing in."
"I don't see a storm."
About to prove my adoptive father wrong, I turn to look outside and find that he is correct. The now pinkish sky gives the clouds a yellowish glow, and the waves are growing peaceful.
"Dang, how do you do that? Does your understanding with nature go farther than your pickle collection?"
Milo gives me a playful scowl.
"Luca here yet," I ask.
"No, still at the bait house probably."
Ah, the bait house. That was where Luca and Milo found me. Said I was only left there with a blank and a note saying "Aquatico Espovera, April 28,". Luca says it was luck. Milo says it was fate. The compact place smells like, you guessed it, bait. I tend to try to avoid the place, it stinks and it gives me a bad feeling. It just makes me think about my mother, not wanting me. Luca was disowned because he chose Milo over training. Together we say if our families hadn't abandoned us, we would never be a family. Other than that, they can eat shit.
"Milo, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. Can we go inside?"
"Sure."
We open the door and walk through the kitchen to the living room, just a few comfy chairs and a couch. Milo puts him arm around me.
I've been putting this off until Luca has been gone. I don't think he would understand. He's the tough one in the relationship.
"You know Marlon and Mya?"
"Yes, they were so nice when they came over."
"There's something about both of them… I just…"
"Can't decide?"
"How did you know," I ask him in anguish.
"I just sensed it. This feeling in the air with both of them."
"I'm conflicted."
"About which one to choose?"
"Uh-huh."
"Just give it time. Go with your gut. You can't go wrong if you do that."
"What if I can't decide?"
"Who says that's a bad thing?"
I mull this over. Me and Marlon and Mya, together. No, it doesn't seem right. And they're twins, too.
"Did you have anyone else other than Luca?"
Milo chuckles. "No, I always knew that he was the one."
"But how? It's like everything is just so unpredictable, and I like things to be that way, but with this it just makes me feel so powerless."
"Love is a fickle thing, Aquatico. And it's human nature to be indecisive. When you know, you'll know."
I turn my head to look into Milo's inviting and warm green eyes.
"Thank you."
Just then, a loud creaking pervades the house, and I know Luca is home.
"Hey kid, ready for our fighting session," Luca asks as he makes his way into the den and drops his duffel.
"Ugh," I reply. "You smell like rotten fish doused in sewage and lemons."
"Thanks."
"Yes, I'm ready. Let's go."
We stroll out onto the back deck, just a small porch and a dock over the sea with a pristine fishing boat attached. It's Luca's most prized possession, and he uses it for fishing and training only and cleans it every day.
As we get on board, I feel the scar on my lips. Still recent and pink, from the time when Luca slashed my face with a fishing hook. He just was on one of his adrenaline highs he gets from fighting and went too far. I can tell he it still haunts him when he looks at me when we duel.
"Don't go easy," I say to him as we get our footing.
"He looks me in the eye and nods."
"Go Aquatico!" Milo is cheering from the deck, still in his robe and brandishing pompoms.
"Hey," Luca says playfully.
"Ready, set, go!"
We have no real weapons, only kendo sticks Luca saved from the Academy. They were used as substitutes for spears and swords in the lower classes.
As we begin to fight, our sticks clash as much as our fighting styles. Luca is brunt and uses his full force with powerful sweeps and jabs. I jump around him with my gymnastics and showboat while I'm at it. Just one of the many perks of being barefoot.
The storm has started up again and rocks the boat, making the jumps more difficult. The waves ram into the sides of the boat. I take a brief glimpse out to Milo, still waving his pompoms, and out to the ocean, the waves falling over one another, clashing. That is what me and Luca are right now, two waves pushing against one another.
As I get distracted, I slip while still in my landing position, and then I feel a sharp whack to my right leg. Just like that I'm down. Luca smiles up at me. "You did good." He extends a hand to help me up. I reach to grab, but move at the last second and do a number of tricks on him. "Don't be a sore loser," Milo says. I laugh and grab his still-outreached hand.
I'm not training to become a career. No, just doing it for the fun of it, and to help engage Luca. And maybe just in case the worst happens, and Marlon's name is drawn… No. I won't think about that. I'm happy right now. As we walk back into the house and Milo fake pouts, I think to myself that I am content. I love life.
Imperia Crimson, 18, District Nine Female, Eight Months Before the Reapings
The bloody bladed whip makes a satisfying klinking noise as I drag it across the floor for one last lash. The boy still moans and gargles on the post.
"Stop whimpering," I say.
The boy steadies himself, starting to talk, but his voice comes out strangled and high pitched. He takes a moment before trying again. "You bitch."
With a loud crack and a squelch the whip comes down on him once more. He screams a high-pitched, agonized scream.
"Hahaha… That'll show you who is boss." My voice comes out cold and steely, the way I trained it, to strike ice into the veins of those who defy the great.
"You're not the boss of me! They're not the boss of me!"
"Say that again and it's another lash."
He quiets down after that. Of-course it's human nature to be defiant. If you can call the mongrels and creatures that parades the dirty streets of district like it's their home human. They are inferior.
It's also human nature to be dumb, stupid, fight-provoking, ignorant to their privileges and their rules. They always need reminding don't they.
I turn to the man standing in the doorway of the cold and stone basement, smirking. Elderly, though none the less intimidating.
"You did well Imperia."
"Thank you, father."
I stride over to him, sparing one final, distasteful glance at our prisoner before hanging the whip on the rack, bowing to my father, and closing the door.
There are many other doors in the basement, leading to other rooms. It's where we keep the ones that just won't stop. Of-course, we could always whip them in the Square but the dumb laws set by the blundering mayor preventing from giving them what they fully deserve, and though Father uses all of his power to intimidate and control him, even as Head Peacekeeper, there is nothing he can do about that certain law. And so we do it in the basement. The Capital has no idea, but what our beloved fathers do not know will not hurt them.
As we enter the kitchen, Mother greets us with her warm smile and the smell of good cooking wafting from the stove where the chef pours. A rare oaf who can actually cook. Worthy of fair pay.
"Good session," she asks us.
"Yes," Father answers. Imperia is getting better every time.
"Wonderful!"
They both look me in the eyes, and though Mother does it often, Father does it only when he thinks you are worthy. Pride shows in both of them. I puff my chest out a little bit more. Impressing them, showing them my strength, it truly is amazing, isn't it?
Mother offers me hot cocoa, which I gladly drink to quell the adrenaline high from that glorious torture spree. The old woman was my favorite, the way her skin was so easily penetrable, beautiful. Shame she went a bit quick, though.
I look down into the chocolate, my rigid face swirling back in it. One of the things Father has taught is to never change my facial expression, it gives them a chance to see into your mind. Brilliant, that man who I so much admire. One of the only times I let it slip was when I was drinking this, my favorite beverage, and I threw it into the old butler's eyes. Hilarious. The way he shrieked and shrieked. How could you not laugh?
"I think she is finally ready for the Hunger Games," Father says.
"Yes, she really is. Daughter, I am so proud of you."
"Thank you, parents."
I peer out the window. The sun is setting. It must be almost time.
Father is thinking the same thing.
"Women," he says, "it is time to show our gratitude."
Father leaves first, the Mother stands up to dutifully follow, me last. When we arrive at the masterful centerpiece of the house. A beautiful monument of the great President Snow, the strong and admirable man who gallantly led us through the Mockingjay Rebellion. The foolish rebels, thinking they had any chance. The Capital will never fall.
The three of us kneel, Father in the center, Mother and I on either sides. We each take our medallions and put them on, the red sticking out on mine and Father's white uniforms.
Father starts:
"Oh, Capital almighty. We thank you for your graciousness, your o'holy graciousness, your gentle forgiveness of those far below us scrounging in our midst. Thank you for leading this country through the darkest of days, for being the strong, the leaders. Only we are worthy of you, only we cherish you. We praise you, we worship you for hour acceptance. O'holy Capital, we shall all give our lives to you, for you are the heavenly god that we need, you are incredible, almighty. Thank you for allowing to keep the peace between those worthy and not so. Thank you for blessing us with the great enlightenment of truth, for the truth is your almightiness, holiness, superiority."
We all chime in. "Capitol today, Capitol forever. Amen."
This has been our memorized night worship to those who give us greatness, in repayment. In memoriam to the great who have once ruled.
"Now, we must rest, for Imperia has lessons tomorrow," Father says, and we file in our formation up the stairs and to our rooms. The maid hobbles up after us, bending and massaging her knees. Pitiful. Only those rightfully inferior show pain.
The Next Morning
"Capital today, Capitol forever."
I get out of bed and take a fast, cold shower before changing into my gear. Downstairs, Father awaits me and takes me down to the basement. Instead of one of the many torture chambers, we enter the training room. Dummies are various weapons are lined up in orderly fashion.
"Imperia, one of the many things a victor must have is dexterity when it comes to all weapons, especially in arenas with only certain ones. First, you will be training with swords, then with throwing knives, then the bow, and then spears."
I nod and make my way to the sword station. Though I haven't practiced with the scythe in a long time and did the bow just yesterday, I don't question Father's logic. He must be right.
I bring out the sword and swing it brutally through dummy after dummy, making sure to get every last one, and torture some while I'm at it. After that is throwing knives, and though I do not have the proper build for the weapon (Tall, muscular, and skinny.), I hit every target. Then is the bow, which is the same as throwing knives, and finally spears, my third-favorite weapons after the bladed whip and kusarigama.
As I finish, I bow to Father.
"Good work."
As I turn to go to the weights as usual, he suddenly says, "The best way to quickly kill but cause extreme pain to someone using the bow and arrow?!"
"Shoot them in their leg tendons and the insides of their elbows," I shout back.
"Correct," he says.
After the round of weights, I get one last pleasure spree with my favorite whip. I lash it out to the many whips, pulling it back every time with a limb, head, or torso, and cackling with glee. This is what I am training for. To show them that the are powerless, to show them that I am superior, to install fear in their heights. I cackle menacingly as I let my whip fly, and I can't wait until I bring it back to find blood, glorious blood.
Rhiannon "Ri" Caster, 15, District Ten Female, 7 and a Half Months Before the Reaping
The annoying buzzing noise fills my ear when I press it to the fence. On. Stupid humans, creating electricity. We'd be better off without it. The Uncle couldn't use his favorite drill. He could still use the axe though. It makes me wish humans had never been around, with our so-called ingenuity, foolishly disturbing the natural balance.
I tilt my head slightly and close my eyes. It's my thinking position, one I was unconscious of until my fourth grade teacher said it was cute. Oh, how I wanted to rip out her innards…
I pick up the rock to my left and use it to bash the wire until it opens, again and again until I have created a hole big enough for a cow to fit through. Jasmine likes to go on walks in the woods with me. Poor Melody did too…
I go over to the lock on the door of the barn and pick it. Such things are so unnecessary, or would be and should be if not for us humans. The animals happily stroll out of the rusty barn. Not my pets, but my friends. So wrong of humans to capture and domesticate their pets.
Jasmine is chewing hay and mooing, plumper and plumper by the day. Oh how I dread when it comes. Then come the chickens: Teresa, Lulu, Gaea, and the rooster, General. I named him for his morning war cry. Next the sheep, Min and Fluff, and finally Daisy the sow and her only piglet still too small to lose: Dew. He happily trots out of the barn and licks me, nothing but happiness and innocence in his eyes. I'll watch him die.
We all make it through the gate and into the meadow, with grass still wet with morning dew, which Dew likes to roll around in, hence his name.
As we get further into the forest, it's easy to marvel at the beauty of the untouched wilderness. Peaceful, quiet, magnificent. Looking back into the district, I see in the distance a fog cloud of dirt rising up from the streets, gray smog rising up from the towering processing factories nearby. Horrible.
"Humans, we take the most, give the least, don't we," I say to the animals. I can almost imagine them nodding. I know not to exemplify myself from this category. The rage I feel at my own species… unforgivable. Animals don't feel such things. I know I must include Wisteria and my parents in this category. I don't remember much about them, but all humans are bad. Most, however pale in comparison to Uncle Troilus.
I look to my friends. One of them will probably be gone pretty soon. That's what Uncle Troilus likes. A purely evil man is he who kills and takes away from the bounty of the earth just for the fun of it. I know if the positions were reversed, and Dew, or any of my other friends, had the power to kill with just one swing of an axe, they would not. Only humans would, because humans are the worst of us.
"Hey, Ri!"
I glance up at Georgia as she and her gang walk up to me through the forest. Foul, horrible, the worst of the worst the lot of them. Hunters. They have no conscience for those whose lives they take, only for themselves and their families. Poverty is a poor excuse to take a life.
I stare at Georgia, a piercing stare, a creepy one, though ne that cannot be interpreted as malicious. "Hello."
Georgia looks awkward, her three friends hiding behind her. I don't really know why they don't approach me, but I cherish it.
"Do you want to go with us to hunt today?"
The girl behind Georgia looks appropriately apprehensive. The boy beside her is licking his chops at Jasmine.
"No," I reply.
They scamper off quickly after that.
I don't know how people could take the lives of such innocent creatures. And only to feel their cold greed, their desire for more than the bare minimum of food. That is how much they should take. Or they shouldn't take any at all. Let them starve.
After that, I put humans out of my mind. Playing with the animals is always fun. Fluff loves to snuggle up to me, and his fur, just now getting close to normal length, is so soft. Dew sleeps in my hands. The animals play with each other…
After a while, I realize something is not right. A hen is missing. Lulu.
"Lulu," I call out. "Lulu!" I'm starting to panic. What could have happened to her? Could she have wandered off and escaped? Or is she… Is she dead?
I tear through the trees with celerity, calling Lulu's name, until I find her. Run into her. She is hanging upside down, one of her feet caught in a loop, a slash across her throat and breast, dead.
I know who did this, and I fill up with rage once more. These horrible humans, how could they do this to such a pure animal? I cradle Lulu, her blood dripping down my shirt. Tears drip down my face.
"Ri?"
Georgia and her entourage enter the clearing, all of them carrying dead rabbits and squirrels with bows and ropes slung over their shoulders.
I feel for her a rage only a human could feel. Red tints my vision and I charge, letting out a scream that I know is unearthly even in my distraction. They scatter. Horrible, foul, loathsome scum of the Earth.
Fifteen Minutes Later
The walk back to the district is horrible. General and the other hens are still searching for Lulu. Others seem to know.
When I get back through, it's dusk. I stitch up the fence with the yarn I keep, and start letting the animals back into their barn, I hear a voice that belongs to the person I loathe the most.
"Where were you today Rhiannon?"
Uncle Troilus stands in the gate. His cold drawl is one used on and with purpose, to intimidate. With his tall frame and cold eyes, it's easy. But I'm not scared of him anymore. Only scared for the animals' sake.
I know there is no lying to him. "Out in the woods."
"What did I tell you about goin' into the woods?"
"Not to."
He chuckles. "When will you ever learn?"
He looks over my shoulder to the chicken house. "Is one o' those roosters missin'?"
"Yes." My eyes start to well up with tears I struggle to quell. "She- she got killed… by a hunting trap."
"Now Rhiannon. I could have made a good buck on that chicken. I need to show you what happens when you lose an animal."
He grabs Fluff by the fur of his neck, over to the wall where his axe sits in its holster.
"NO!", I yell, because I know what is about to happen.
Fluff baas and baas, looking into my eyes with the side of his head not pushed into the cutting table.
"This is what happens when you breaks the rules!"
CHOP!
Fluff's head rolls of the table. The animals go into a frenzy, but he is all I can focus on. Blood speckles his white fur. I cradle him. Uncle Troilus drops the axe, just for a second, to laugh, to cackle at seeing the despair in my eyes.
"Were havin' lamb chops tonight, whether you like it or not."
And as he bends over to pick it, I so badly want to lunge for it, to get it before he does, to laugh and laugh as I slam his onto the table, and cut open his neck, and watch him die. Watch them all die. One by one. For that is human nature, to enact revenge. An animal would never conceive such a concept.
Oh, how the innocent suffer.
I'm finally back guys! I hope you liked this chapter, I'm very proud of it. I'm SO SORRY for the long hiatus, and to any of you reading this who are writing an SYOT with a tribute of mine in it, my deepest apologies for not reviewing, I'll be much better now.
As for me, I've been having a wonderful three weeks! My cousins have a new baby now, and she is absolutely precious (Don't worry, we've all been quarantining together, we aren't just running around maskless near each other.)! I will definitely be updating sooner next time, and I also have a new story planned *wink wink*, so be on the lookout.
Thank you to DracarysWolf for submitting Aquatico and Ri, and also my awesome sister who will be going by "L" for submitting Imperia. I hope you guys enjoyed all these characters, I sure as heck did when I was writing. Please give your thoughts on them in the reviews. Here are the questions of the chapter:
Which of these three characters are you most excited to see make their impact on the story, whether as a villain or a hero?
What were Rhiannon's two other hens aside from Lulu's names?
-Mills