Last Reaping! Woo! I am not a fan of Reapings so I am glad I have gotten through them all. Now we can start voting for pairs. But first.
There are not chapter questions for the past few chapters because you earn a lot of points from the voting. However, the normal votes for reviews still apply.
There is a poll on my profile for your favorite character, the submitters whose character wins will get ten sponsor points. All information about voting will be in the next chapter, enjoy.
Althea Falen, 16
District 5 Female
I lay my head on the pillow, my back facing the door as I listened to the footsteps of my father as he readied for bed. He was trying to be silent but his stocky nature still forced him to make a fair bit of a ruckus.
I listened intently until I heard him step on the creaky floorboard outside my door. The moment I heard that, I shut my toffy brown eyes just before he pushed open my door.
Like every night, he stood there for a moment, watching what he thought was me sleeping before whispering a goodnight and closing the door behind him. Although I and my father had a far from a close relationship, he still took the time before heading to bed after a day or work to say goodnight to me. Part of me wondered if it was fear I might one day walk out the door like my mother or if deep down he honestly did care about me. Both seemed plausible yet the last one was a bit harder to wrap my head around.
You see, if he truly cared about me, surely he would accept that I was far from a budding sportsman like him. He was never abusive about it, just sometimes his "useful" words cut deep. When you father says your art supplies are nothing more than a waste of time and instead tells you to go for a run, you start to develop a hatred for him. So, when he had gone to sleep, that was my only solace for my true ambition.
Once the house had been silent for about an hour, I slowly turned over in my bed, handing my slender arms over the metal frame. With my nimble fingers, I felt around the array of boxes until I felt my index finger brush against a rough wooden box.
With a smile, I pulled my body across the bed, using both hands to pull the box free. I hauled the heavy object onto the bed and tenderly pulled off the lid, revealing the array of art supplies inside. From oil paints to sketchbooks, everything my father had brought me over the years. The man limited me to one art supply every year for my birthday.
Maybe if I got good enough, one day he could support me.
Qanom Harkklee, 18
District 5 Male
I hated everything about the reaping. Kids got forced to die based on a flawed lottery format that was clearly rigged, people, crying and those stupid Peacekeepers and their stupid faces. Well, I assume they were stupid, I had to admit, I had never sat down and had a conversation with one. However, it was a safe assumption, most people were stupid when compared with me.
Sure, my spelling may have sucked and history was far from a strong suit of mine but with everything else, I blew everyone else out of the water. I mean, Give me some wires and a generator and I could blow you to kingdom come.
Yeah, that's right. Everyone assumes Three is the one with the bomb and electrical experts but they always overlook Five. The Electricity District a District built on supply electricity to the whole of Panem. Yet everyone seems shocked when we can use bombs and electricity, they just expected us to be sneaking and that to be it.
Well, when they called my name out to the District, I decided there and then I would break that mold. It had been so long since someone had won through brains and not brawn, mostly because no one was as smart as me. Foxface was close, she was in my class at school and we always got fairly close grades. However, I would have been smart enough to avoid the berries. Then again, it was most likely for the best, there was no way she stood a chance against Cato and Katniss. To me, Peeta was pretty harmless if she could outsmart him but he was still strong and would have crushed a girl as weak as her.
I was just as weak, I wasn't fooling myself. For everything I had gained in intellect, I had lost in strength. In a weapon or strength match inside of that Arena, I would be dead in a matter of seconds but maybe, just maybe, I could win with knowledge. Beete was the last Tribute to win in such a manner so if you asked me, we were long overdue such a victory.
I woke up thrashing at the air. The covers felt tight on me like a blanket of metal and a thick coating of sweat covered my face.
Althea Falen, 16
Train Rides
My gasps for air almost sounded like screams as I kicked the warm covers away, the cold air around me quickly biting at my skin. It stung and tore leaving my hair on end.
I clawed away the drenched brown-ginger hair that stuck to my face, allowing my eyes to dart around my small cabin. I wasn't in my room or my bed. I was on the train, on my way to the Hunger Games.
As my body started to calm, I started to feel a sense of emptiness without my father by my side. Back home, he would always be by my side. I never really appreciated it before. Now, he might never get the chance to do something again. I might be dead within a week.
The reality of it all still seemed alien to me. Twenty-four hours ago, I was eating my breakfast in silence with my father, the reaping a few hours away. Now, I was only an hour away from the Capitol.
I wanted to lay in bed forever, watching the sun that peeked through my curtains dance on the ceiling but I needed to look presentable for the Capitol, popularity was the biggest chance I had. I had doubts about my weapons skills.
By my side was a small, girly white dress left on my dressing table for me with matching white flats. My first in a long line of Capitol Looks.
So, with a sigh, I swung my legs off the side of the bed and pulled myself up to full height, stretching my body along with the action. I looked at the clock on the wall. Fifty-four minutes to get washed, dressed, fed and ready for my new celebrity lifestyle.
Qanom Harkklee, 18
Train Rides
"Why am I dressed like this?" I asked Althea's mentor, Electra. She looked at my white long sleeved top, trainers and pants and sighed.
"They want you plain, to begin with, until your stylists can decide what look they want to go with," she said with boredom. "You will notice the clothes don't fit perfectly, it is because they dressed you basic sizing, average if you will. Don't worry, once you get to the Capitol, you will be a lot more colorful and well fitted." I watched as she picked at her pancakes.
"Well, do I get a say in what my style is?" Electra smiled.
"No, not fully anyway. You might inspire your stylist but most of them are too stubborn to change and will just run with what they decide."
"Can I refuse?" I asked, taking a small sip of my hot chocolate.
Electra shook her head. "Well, you can but it would not end well for you. Sometimes, if you are lucky, your stylist will be talented, understanding the audience. If I was you, I would play to that image, even if it doesn't personally fit you."
I thought about her words and felt myself lose my appetite. For me, the clear image to go with would be my brains but what if they didn't? I was also gay, a thing I had never really thought about. My District was fairly accepting and I liked men, there wasn't much more to think about. But what if the Capitol saw it as a quirk, turning me into some flamboyant girly boy?
I couldn't escape it. If I wanted any chance of a happy marriage, it needed to be with a guy and I wasn't one for hiding who I was. They had to find out about my sexuality, I just didn't want them to make fun of me for it.
"We are here!" Althea gasped as she stumbled to her feet and towards the window. I dropped my knife and fork as the city came into view. Something I had never seen before.
Buildings seemed to stretch for miles, taller than the Justice building back home. I didn't even think humans could build something so amazing in only seventy-five years. All the exports of the Districts came here and it showed.
However, I only felt fear. The people who lived in those gigantic buildings would also cheer on my death, watching as I was reaped and cheering as someone most likely killed me. The truth was, the city was a nightmare dressed like a flower.
"Sometimes things seem like they couldn't get worse. They always do,"