Writing while I'm waiting for submissions to Premonition, which has been surprisingly slow.
EDIT: I have around 8 open spots. Please submit! Deadline is May 10th.
The alarm rang in surround sound. "It's eight o'clock. Rise and shine!"
The last thing Maximilian wanted to do was get up, and that fake, cheery voice only made him want to shut out the world. "Alarm off," he groaned, rolling over, tangling himself in his luxurious sheets. When they installed the speakers around the room the day before, he hadn't considered how they'd interfere with his beauty sleep.
"Alarm off," the alarm repeated, shutting down.
He reached his hand out to the other side of the bed, but he found nothing. Callista must've already gotten up. Through the window, the Capitol's morning light fell onto the bed, perfectly adjusted for maximum morning cheer. He squeezed his eyes shut. Back to sleep, it was…
The voice jolted him awake. "Maxxy!"
His eyes shot open to see Callista, his wife of about a year now, standing in the doorway of the bedroom, hands on her hips and her purple hair tied back in a ponytail, decorated with little star hairpieces. She was already all dressed up, clutching her purple purse.
"All ready for work, I see," he muttered, eyes drooping.
"Which is what you should be," she said, "Aren't you going to be late for work too?"
"Work? What work?" he mumbled. He had just been fired two days ago. There wasn't any work for him.
"You know, the job at the tea place?" she huffed, "Why do I know more about your job than you do?"
It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't told her yet. "Oh… that. I got fired the day before yesterday."
Her eyes widened. "Maxxy! Again? Why didn't you tell me?"
If he wasn't wide awake earlier, he was now. "Well… you've just been so busy working on the Games. I didn't want to add something else to your plate."
She looked at her watch. "We'll talk about this when I get back tonight. I'm going to be late if I don't hurry."
Then she was gone. That woman. Now he couldn't sleep, and he'd have to come up with a way to appease her once she returned. Normally, she wasn't a pain to be around. He'd just have to make her a drink and listen to her rant about her Gamemaker job and her Gamemaker co-workers and everything would be fine again. At least, that's what had worked in the past.
He sat up as he heard the front door slam. Day two of being unemployed for the fourth time. Maybe he would stay jobless for a while this time. There was no rush to fill his life with another schedule that he would inevitably break, which would bring him back to unemployment. Sure, they had to pay for food and the cleaning lady and more, but even without factoring in Callista's excellent salary, the money his parents had left him was still enough to last them another half year.
Begrudgingly, he showered and shaved, and then he found himself in the spotless kitchen, so clean partially because the cleaning lady did a good job but also because they rarely ever had to actually use it. Why would you cook when you could just order a better version and have it delivered in half the time it'd take you to make the darn thing?
"Nope… nope… nope…" he mumbled, scrolling through the list of nearby breakfast restaurants on the kitchen holoscreen. He didn't feel like eating eggs, and the pastry shop was too fattening. He'd normally just take one of the slimming pills, but there were severe health risks associated with overconsumption and he'd already taken two that week to compensate for his lack of exercise.
He finally settled on the small breakfast gyro place a few blocks down that Thaddeus delivered for, not because he particularly liked breakfast gyros (which were borderline a crime against humanity), but because Thaddeus was just an overall great guy to have around.
He poured two glasses of wine from the vineyards of District One (not the cheap stuff from District Eleven) and carried them over to the coffee table in the living room, which Callista, true to her nature, had decorated with a "night sky" theme, with golden "stars" hung all around the dark blue walls.
"Television on," he said, plopping down on the plushy black couch. "Channel five news."
The almost floor-to-ceiling screen that took up an entire wall lit up, displaying a recap of the District One Reapings. He'd almost forgotten; yesterday had been Reaping Day. He personally found it pointless to waste an entire day waiting for the next of the staggered Reapings to happen; it was much more interesting to watch them all back to back the next day. Then again, all he had done the day before was install a set of speakers that interrupted his sleep, so perhaps he would've had a better time watching the Reapings…
By any means, District One bored him. He tilted his head back and stared at the little stars at the ceiling, wondering how it was even possible for District One to produce predictably similar tributes every single year.
The doorbell rang. Breakfast! He leapt up and opened the front door, where Thaddeus stood, holding a plastic bag with his food inside.
"Good morning," Thaddeus said with a smile cheesier than the gyros he brought, "A delivery of two cheese breakfast gyros for Maximillian Otherson?"
"Thanks," Maxxy said, taking the bag, "You got time to hang for a few minutes?"
"I don't know…" he said, "You know what my boss feels about wasting time."
"I already poured you a glass," he coaxed.
Thaddeus caved. "Fine, but just for a few minutes."
Maxxy led him to the couch, where he handed him the drink. "Here."
He took a sip. "Dang. This is the good stuff."
"Of course."
"You don't have work today?"
"Nah. Got fired two days ago."
"Again? What does Callista think?"
"Don't know," Maxxy said, "I just told her this morning before she ran off to work. I can't imagine she's happy with it, though."
"I don't blame her," he said, "You're what— twenty-eight and married? Most guys have found a steady job at that point."
"Don't get on me about it."
Thaddeus shrugged and looked at the screen. "Watching the Reapings, huh?"
"I don't have anything better to do."
"Aye— it's District One," he said, leaning forward.
"I honestly don't get why you like One so much," Maxxy said, taking a bite of the cheese-topped gyro.
"Don't you see the girl? What's not to like?"
"Nah, she's not my type, Besides, I'm happily married now. You're just single and lonely."
"Say what you want," he said, grinning. "You think District One will do well?"
Maxxy looked closer at the two volunteers, standing on the stage. The guy was broad-shouldered and tall, a monster of a guy while also managing to hit all the "hot" buttons. The girl was tall and slim, a figure like a model. Both were typical, boring District One. "District One always has a chance. That doesn't make them any more interesting."
The camera cut to District Four, where the lovely ocean could be seen in the distance, stretching out to the horizon. The Reaping videos always began with the escort being introduced, yet everyone in the videos always seemed impatient. Was there something else that happened at the Reapings that the networks always cut out? The escort pulled the male name, and as per usual, there was a volunteer. Maxxy preferred District Four to District One. Even if the tributes were usually less pretty, at least they didn't look like they were from the same family every single year. Then the female name was called, and again, there was a volunt—
Maxxy could hear the ripple of gasps that spread throughout the crowd on screen as the girl took the stage. What happened? He hadn't been paying attention. But the girl seemed younger than usual this year, perhaps closer to fifteen than eighteen? As the camera zoomed in, he immediately noticed the fiery determination in her black eyes, accentuated by her flowing black hair that rippled in the wind.
"What's your name?" the escort said, placing the microphone in front of the girl.
"Mariam Soo," she said, "And I'm determined to win."
His stomach twisted; something wasn't right. Was it the eyes? No; though hers were unusually determined, fierce passion wasn't unheard of. Was it her hair? No; her hair seemed like ordinary, poorly cared-for District hair, though it made her look magnificent on screen with the way it fluttered in the ocean breeze. What is that she was too young? Perhaps? District Four volunteers were usually on the older end of the spectrum, but it wasn't earth-shaking for a slightly younger girl to volunteer.
"Man," Thaddeus said, "She looks amazing."
"Is that all you ever think about?" Maxxy said.
He paused to think about it. "Maybe not all."
He sighed. "Does anything feel off to you?"
"No. It feels weird liking a Four girl more than the One girl though."
"You're hopeless," Maxxy groaned, irritated that his friend didn't seem to get the same feel that he did.
"Hey, cut me some slack! I'm still looking for love."
"Then you'd better look elsewhere. No Victor is going to fall for you."
Thaddeus shrugged. "You never know." He checked his watch. "Hey, thanks for the drink, but I've got to go or my boss will chew me out."
"See you later. Just let yourself out," Maxxy said, but he was looking at the girl from Four again. No, it wasn't just an odd feeling earlier. Even now, when he looked at her picture on the screen, something inside him immediately knew that something wasn't right, and it bothered him that he couldn't pinpoint what felt so wrong. The camera cut to some dusty district as the front door slammed, but he couldn't focus. He stopped the news and pulled up the District Four reaping again, watching carefully.
When the escort read the name off the paper, judging by the crowd reactions, the girl that screamed "I volunteer" clearly wasn't expected. He'd heard from Callista that usually, only a select few volunteers are authorized every year, which would imply that this girl wasn't authorized. Below the stage, among the other girls that had been too slow to reach the stage, there was another older girl that looked just like Mariam, with the same facial structure and flowing black hair. An older sibling? Perhaps. But why would the younger sibling volunteer?
He watched and rewatched it, but he couldn't figure anything else out. Every time, the camera would end back on Mariam's face, and the knot in his stomach would grow larger. He sighed. It was time to give up. He switched back to the news, just in time to see some of the tributes exit the trains that had brought them to the Capitol. These appeared to be from District Seven, if he remembered correctly. The boy was nothing special, but the girl was a small twelve-year-old that took shaky steps, her arms held close to her body, terrified of the excited crowds on both sides.
Maxxy felt bad for the girl. Twelve-year-olds never won. Why did they bother reaping them anyway? They weren't as interesting as the older kids, and they never did more than die off early either because they ran into someone stronger or because twelve-year-olds were stupid and didn't know how to make proper deicisions. This girl seemed like she'd fall into the first category. Literally anyone, even the twigs from District Twelve, could wipe her out.
When the two from Seven were off the screen, he refocused his attention on his breakfast gyro, which had turned cold because he'd spent so much time rewatching the District Four reapings. The cheese on top had formed an unappetizing, rubbery crust, and he threw it out. If he really wanted to eat gyros, he'd just order another one.
"It seems like another train has arrived!" the on-screen commentator said, "Ladies and Gentleman, here come Lazarus Hurley and Mariam Soo from District Four."
Maxxy was genuinely surprised; he hadn't known when the trains would arrive because he never cared enough to follow the tributes' every movement, but he found himself transfixed once again as the pair from District Four exited the train. Lazarus was dressed in a deep blue suit, and he waved to the crowd as he passed through, a wide, personable smile on his face. Mariam, however, took uncertain steps as she floated by in her matching blue dress. In that moment, she just seemed like one of the Reaped girls, overwhelmed by the Capitol and shocked by the magnitude of it all. Maybe he had overthought everything. Maybe she was just a stupid fifteen-year-old that had volunteered without thinking through the rammifications of her decisions.
Then the camera changed angles, and he saw her from the front. His stomach twisted again. The aura was back. Though her body movements showed all the signs of a nervous person, her blazing eyes and black hair—which was once again waving in the wind—unnerved him. That was it. He was absolutely certain that there was something wrong; his instincts were usually pretty spot on.
The clock struck noon, and his stomach was growling because all he'd eaten all day was a few bites of a blasphemous breakfast cheese gyro. He'd have to worry about Mariam later. For now, his priority was getting Callista to stop being mad at him. Perhaps he'd get her some flowers for that night, when they would go to watch the tribute parade together.
He looked back at Mariam's face, frozen on his screen where he had paused the video. For once, he felt something—a drive to accomplish, the lack of which had lost him four consecutive jobs—and it actually felt pretty good.
This was one thing he wasn't going to fail.
A/N: Don't leave yet! I have an open SYOT!
It's so weird; it feels like writing is all I want to do right now. I just finished a story (No Signal—which had a grand total of one review. Don't judge me; I'm just a sucker for reviews), and now I'm waiting for tribute submissions to my open SYOT . Gosh, I'm just trying to get back into writing here, and y'all aren't making it easy, huh?
I had to write something while I waited until the date of my next promised chapter upload (I've also finished writing that chapter), and since no one's submitting, I thought I'd put something out there for me to do as well as keep my name visible to fanfiction readers—kill two bird with one stone, eh?
And please review! I've been starved of reviews while writing No Signal. Please? What if I offer you a virtual cookie?
...Now I just sound like an idiot...