London smith, 16

District six is usually quiet on reaping mornings. Save for a select few, the public trains that spiderweb the district don't run today, so my position as train conductor is temporarily redundant. I yawn and throw off the sheets, basking in the temporary silence. Our home is right next to a busy trainline, so every few minutes a train loaded with busy people comes rumbling past.

"Hey bro!" I hear from the other side of the room. "Catch!" I have less than a second to react before an apple comes whizzing through the air toward me, bonking me on the nose.

"Dammit Washington!" I say. Even though he practically raised me, and I do love him, he's still annoying.

"You know we don't have to work today, right?" I continue.

"Yeah." He says, grinning. "Get up. We're going to the reaping the long way. Janise is waiting." It will be good to see her, we haven't in ages. I rescue the apple from the musty wooden floor, brush the dust off, and crunch into it. Sweet and crisp. Washington leaves my room, so I look for something to change into. Nothing is clean, so I have to wear my train conductor's uniform. I leave my room, ready to go. When Washington sees me, he bursts out laughing.

"Was nothing else clean?" He asks.

"No." I say, slightly irritated. He continues laughing. Whilst he does that, I take the surprise pack and give it a test. Perfect. I sift through the top draw and find my token: a cheap plastic pin, gunmetal grey, and showing a waft of smoke atop a circle. It's a mock version of very popular prior tribute's token, Can't-Miss or something. Washington got it for me a few years back as a joke, but I pin it to my outfit anyway, making sure it's visible.

"Let's go." He says eventually.

I'm glad I put my hair in French braids last night, I don't need to brush it this morning. I'm not a girl or anything, I just like long hair. Getting it cut is a hassle too, there aren't any good barbers here and my father died before he could teach me.

Washington grabs his satchel, I grab my fish nibbles, and we head out the door. We've barely walked down the street when one of the village cats notices us. A scrawny old thing, grey and fluffy. I slip it a fish nibble. All the village cats love me, mostly due to the food. It rubs itself against my leg and tries to entice pats, but I regretfully tell it to move along, we have somewhere to be. Before long, Janise joins us.

"Hey." She says.

"Hey." We reply in unison.

"How's Cara?" I ask.

"She's good."

Another cat approaches me, and so I chuck it a nibble.

"What would you do if you were reaped?" She asks.

"Run away." I reply simply, not telling her about my plan. She laughs.

"I'd be pissed. Last year and all." Washington adds.

"Mmm." She says thoughtfully, before continuing, "I reckon I'd karate kick whoever was onstage. Just to make a statement." Karate is her most recent interest.

"I guess that would distinguish you from the others." Washington muses.

"Exactly!" She says, pointing a finger at Washington. I give away another nibble.

We continue the banter about the games until reaching the square, before each join our allotted sections and waiting for the doomed children's name to be drawn.

Epiphany Price, 17

I rush through the hospital, having just been called in. The epidemic, which we thought was crushed, has just sprung up again. Because of this, we have less staff for secondary issues. I sidle through the doors in my gear and await instructions, keeping out of the way of the bustling hallway.

"Miss Price!" A tired, stern-looking woman barks.

"Yes?" I reply meekly.

"We've got another one in from the crash. Female, nine years old. Room fifteen." She orders. With a nod, I turn and scurry to the given room. This isn't a proper hospital, with ordered rooms and equipment. There's only thirty-six rooms, haphazardly assigned based on proximity to each other. Some are for storage, some for operating, others for births. The rooms are large and overcrowded, and they're really more like wards. The only real difference between operating on your kitchen floor and in the hospital is that semi-qualified doctors are doing the operating. The technology's not that much better, and the hygiene is questionable. Nonetheless, we try our best. I enter the room and see a new patient being wheeled in, a smallish warped shard of metal protruding from her lower chest. According to a slip of paper attached to her bed, she survived the crash of a public-transport train late last night. Her family have not been recovered, and she was dragged here in a cart. Train crashes are very common here, the public trains are rickety old things very prone to malfunction. It's so strange, how so little can kill a person. I can see immediately that she will not survive, as removing the shrapnel will cause massive blood loss. Had we got to her sooner, she might have made it, but she's especially weak now. I give her a small dose of morphling, just enough so that it won't hurt too much. It's expensive in other places, but in district six it flows like tap water. Besides that, there's really nothing I can do for her. With a flutter, her eyes open. They wander around the room, lost, before locking onto me.

"Where are mummy and daddy?" She asks innocently. I've dealt with this sort of thing before, and I know exactly what to say.

"They're okay. They're safe." I explain gently. "You'll see them soon. They're going on a holiday, they just had to leave a little early, that's all."

"I want to see them now. I'm scared." She says.

"You will soon." I reassure her.

"Where are they? I'm scared." She repeats.

"It's okay. They're on a holiday. In a place far better than this. A place with no more hurt, where you won't feel scared. Where the sun always shines, and flowers of all different colours grow. Do you like flowers?" I try to take her mind off things.

"Yes." She says softly. I can see her slipping away. "I like the colours."

"All different coloured flowers grow in this place. Even ones you've never seen before. I think you'd like it." She gives one last smile before her chest stops rising. Face frozen in a smile of what I can only pray is hope, she looks at peace. I touch my knuckle to her forehead, then both shoulders in turn.

"Fly free." I whisper. I always do this, to make sure their spirits go to the afterlife properly.

"Epiphany." A fellow nurse says, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"Yes?" I reply, my voice cracking. I didn't realise how close I was to tears.

"Her parents were found. They didn't make it." I nod slowly.

"You should get changed. The reaping's in an hour." I stay still for a moment processing what I just saw, then go to remove my uniform. The little girl died happy. That's my main concern. I have to walk outside the hospital, and into an alleyway, which is dangerous, but most people respect nurses and doctors. The line between them is so blurred anyway, we need everyone we can get. I could go straight to the square, but there's one more thing I have to do. I re-enter the hospital and make my way to the permanent resident section. They're rarely permanent, most either dying from whatever they're meant to be being cured of or end up going in and out due to ongoing problems. The only truly permanent resident is Bavia Hearth, a twenty-year old woman suffering from deafness. She's undergoing experimental treatment, very dangerous, but she's aware of the risks and potential consequences. I enter the room now, filled with dozens of patients, some of which recovering from surgeries. Bavia is at the end of the line, in her usual bed, watching the television - with subtitles. I make sure to get her attention. She beams when she sees me.

Hello. I sign. She nods.

Are you scared of the reaping? She signs quickly.

A little.

You'll be fine. I survived. She says, shrugging.

Look at yourself though! Bavia grins.

If I am reaped, thankyou for being such a good friend. I continue.

Thankyou for caring for me. She signs back, blinking away tears. She holds out her arms, and we embrace.

If you get reaped, run away. Find a strong ally. Use your strengths.

Thankyou. I sign, genuinely grateful for the advice.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

I leave for the reaping, praying to God that I don't get reaped.

Julia Topaz, head gamemaker

District six is an interesting district, mostly known for it's drugs and gang violence. The square itself is dirty and filled with shattered glass, and there's the odd bloodstain, but thankfully no dead bodies. Most capitol citizens think this is a result of gang violence and crime syndicates. What they don't know is that the night before, the film crew spread the glass, and smattered bloodstains everywhere. The people look ragged and tired, probably because they couldn't be bothered to make themselves look good. This only adds to the effect.

The stage is shoddily constructed, and the escort almost trips on a stray bottle. The girl called is Epiphany Price. At first she looks frightened, then tears start sliding down her cheeks and she slowly takes the stage. She's a petite thing, with faded, dry hair and exhausted, washed-out eyes.

The boy is more interesting. London Smith. When he's called, the cameras pan the audience as they all look around for him. Reluctance isn't uncommon, and sometimes the child is even absent. Suddenly, a puff of smoke from the sixteen-male section bursts into existence. Everyone tries to get away from it, coughing, and a clattering sound is heard.

As the smoke dissipates, a small box on straps becomes visible. I lean closer, intrigued. The camera jerks away as shouts and cheers are heard, and a tall boy with long black hair can be seen streaking away from the square. He's very fast, and it looks like he's going to make it, but a peacekeeper runs him down and catches him. Others rush to his aid, and together they escort him to the stage. He grins sheepishly, and a mixture of boos and cheers can be heard from the audience. It's as though they can't decide as to whether or not they're happy he tried to escape, or angry he was caught. The reaping concludes, and the commentators are having a wonderful time.