they took the porcelain dolls out of the haunted hallway
all the girls in pink lace dresses with little white shoes
have gone to attics and basements
and their ghosts have moved on with heavy hearts
and the house feels a little lonelier now
Hall Silversmith (12)
District One
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Hall let out the biggest sigh a twelve-year-old had ever sighed, and that was quotable material, because if someone were to do the research, it would be easily scientifically proven. "Dad, why am I wearing this?" he asked, politely. Because his shirt was so uncomfortable it was killing him, but Dad didn't want to hear that he didn't like the clothes he sold. So he wasn't going to say that.
His father looked down at him with disinterest, and then back at his watch. The last time he checked his watch was two minutes ago. Hall knew this because he looked at the car's digital clock last time, and just looked again. They weren't going to go any faster if only propelled by his father's impatience, but that wasn't going to stop him from tapping his foot the entire way to the District One square.
"You could get reaped this year, Hall," his father finally answered, when he again looked forward. He glanced at the driver, just a brief movement of his eyes, as if he was displeased with the man driving a safe speed down the road.
"I understand," he said, but he didn't.
His father paused for a long moment, and then looked down at Hall again. "And if you get reaped this year, Hall, you will have to walk up there."
"Oh." Now he really did understand.
"So everyone will see you if you're not dressed in our very best." He looked forward again.
"I'm not going to the Games."
His father smiled emptily. "No, but you would be onstage."
Hall sighed again, only this time it was internally. Now that he thought about it, the first one was probably pretty internal too, but he was sure it was still measurable by the advanced scientific methods of the Capitol. If a scientist swooped into the car now, they'd still be able to capture its unreleased energy hanging just in front of him, where he was supposed to physically sigh it out of the way. He imagined a little cloud of pinkish smoke in front of him representing how big the sigh was supposed to be. It grew and grew and grew and grew—and then trickled away, finding the tiniest cracks in the car, sometimes even microscopic cracks, and flew away in the wind. Now no scientists would ever be able to measure that ridiculous sigh left unsighed.
"How far are we, Antoni?" his father asked. Hall's head quickly jerked to the clock. Three minutes from when he checked his watch. He was getting more patient!
"Another thirty minutes, sir," Antoni told him.
Hall liked their driver. He was a very kind guy. He would always kneel down in front of Hall when his father wasn't around and would ask him if he wanted a surprise. He was a little old for this game now, but he did still want a surprise. So he said yes, of course, and Antoni always drew out candy from the Capitol.
He had no idea how the guy got it. And it wasn't like his father couldn't get it for him, of course, but Hall never asked his father for those kinds of things. So it was a very exciting setup they had between them, really.
He leaned his head back and looked out the window. What Dad didn't know was that if you just weren't really in the car, the drive was a lot quicker.
one year ago
After each flash of light, the man behind the camera told him to move a little bit, to shift his body for a better position for a picture. His face was coated in makeup to make him look even more like someone from the Capitol than he already did. The pictures they took of him in District One were always really nice, but he never had to wear this much makeup back home.
"Good job, Hall," the cameraman said with a smile. He stepped away from the camera, indicating to Hall that the pictures were done. "There is no one better in all of District One to showcase your father's work."
Hall smiled up at him, but the compliment didn't really matter to him. He didn't think it was all that difficult to twist into different ways for people to see the clothes he was wearing. He had done it for three outfits today, so it was probably time for lunch at least. Or maybe they were even done. He knew that they had Capitolites modeling as well, but his father wouldn't come all the way to the Capitol without dragging his best one along with.
"Thank you, sir," he said to the cameraman. He was so interesting. He has big, garish pink brows and his beard flared out to the sides in the same color, but the hair atop his head was nonexistent. He didn't stand out any more than the others working with him, but Hall didn't like the color of his beard and eyebrows in particular.
"You're just the sweetest," the man said, reaching out and ruffling Hall's hair—Hall's hair that took meticulous work from the stylists. So that meant they were definitely done for the day.
His father came into the room after a moment and looked at the cameraman before he looked to Hall. "How'd it go?" he asked, a charming smile on his face. Hall had watched his father get out of a million different situations with his smile before.
"Great, do you want to see?"
They crowded around the camera, and the cameraman motioned for Hall to come over to see the unedited results. He did, and they did look like they'd make good pictures.
Dad looked down at him with a full grin on his face and even knelt down in front of him like Antoni always did. "You did good, son," he said to him, his voice so sincere that Hall was certain he wasn't acting. He felt himself fill up like a balloon and fly away with how happy it made him. He had worried this whole trip to the Capitol would be way more boring than the couple of other times he had gotten to go, but that just made it worth it. "Really."
He stood back up, keeping a hand on Hall's back. He was way too old and getting way too tall to kneel down in front of, but he would shrink a few inches and stay that small for the rest of his life to be able to travel to the Capitol and hear his father say that he had done a good job.
That was the funny thing about Dad. He could be so stoic and focused on his business, and just when Hall found it in him to hate even a fraction of him, he said something wonderful. Or Hall got sick, and he doted on him. It was the only good part about being sick.
They left the photoshoot and went to go get lunch. Dad and the cameraman seemed to be good friends, because they always came back to this guy. Even the second time they came, when they had someone else doing the shoot, this guy was there with Dad. Hall didn't know his name, though. He was sure he had learned it, but probably when he was halfway into one of his daydreams with how little it lingered. And the first time they came, he was only eight, so how was he expected to have retained anything worthwhile other than a love for the Capitolites and their candy?
The building was very plain, which was a letdown for Hall when he knew how exciting it was to eat up every little detail of the Capitol—their clothes, their accent, their candy, their buildings, their food, their lifestyle. He daydreamed about being born in the Capitol and always having hair dyed green, floating up in the sky when the brilliant Capitol scientists invent flying, and just seeing the entire city painted in cotton candy colors.
Once they were out on the street again—after the grueling process of getting changed and wiping down his face—that was where things got exciting. Lots of people had cars in District One, but none so extravagant as the ones that roamed down the light-blue-bricked streets of the Capitol.
And that was just this end of town. The road in front of their hotel got repainted all the time. When they first got there, it was two tigers in a brawl with each other, which Hall didn't like very much but it was very beautiful. When he woke up today, he ran to the window to see if it had changed, and it had. This time it was a rainbow over a woman in a pale pink, glittering dress. He felt like it was out of some Capitol program he had never watched, but he liked it a lot.
He looked up at the tall building next to him, which was nothing compared to the skyscrapers in the center of the city. Everything about the Capitol took his breath away, from the way the buildings stretched their fingertips up to feel the clouds, to the beautiful and scenic outer edges where people lived with gigantic yards and no neighbors and inground swimming pools larger than some people's houses. He didn't think he would ever get enough, like he was hungry for sights in the Capitol more than he was hungry for food.
Except… he may have just been confused there, his growling stomach reminded him. He was definitely also hungry for food.
The car they got into was bright purple with white streaks through it that looked like someone had blended white paint carefully in with a car-sized paintbrush. And this was just their driver's rented car to get to lunch! Their car back home was all black and bulky, nothing that made Hall excited to go down the road!
The interior was leather and white, and so pristine it made Hall worried to breathe in case it tarnished how pretty it looked. Hall wasn't a car person either. But he was eleven, and this was wonderland.
Antoni started driving down the road after his father said the restaurant they were going to, and Hall stuck his head against the window, his nose just barely centimeters from the glass. If he wouldn't be reprimanded for it, he would roll it down and stick his head all the way out of it like a dog.
The further they got into the city, the taller the buildings got and the more people he could see walking down the sidewalks. People with purses, shopping bags, dogs on leashes, children on leashes, bright red hair, orange hair, green, yellow, big cloud hair and limp noodle hair, tiger and alligator faces, tattoos, piercings, big puffy dresses, pantsuits, jumpers, rompers, shorts—
"Hall," his father said, and the tone of his voice suggested he had said it a couple of times already.
He turned to the middle row of seats in the car where the cameraman and his father were. "Hi," he said.
Dad seemed to let his daydreaming go and smiled at him instead of telling him to be more in the moment. Which Hall would argue that he was more in the moment. They didn't live in the Capitol. They should enjoy every little detail of it. "I was just telling Giovanni that you are excelling in art at home," he said.
"Oh." Hall nodded and looked at the cameraman. Giovanni. Why was it that out of everyone involved in their shoots, his father chose such an unfashionable, boring man? His face was interesting, but it got tiring. "I like to draw."
Giovanni nodded with a smile. "That's how it starts. He'll be a visionary before you know it," he told Hall's father. "Just like you, I suspect."
His father laughed. "I do hope so. I'd love for him to be able to come live here someday."
"Keep him down this track and the Capitol will have no problem with inviting such a smart, sweet kid in," Giovanni told him.
He wondered if that was true, or if it was just part of their small talk. He really hoped it was. He wanted to escape District One, where everyone meant well, but they could just never imitate the Capitol. And they spent so much time training for the Games, they weren't even concerned with how drab everyone was in comparison.
They were in the city now, and they pulled over in front of a skyscraper. His father and Giovanni got out first, and then Hall after them, who waved to Antoni before he drove away.
There was someone else waiting inside the building for them. This restaurant was very dark, everything black and deep red. The tables were a rich brown. It was kind of cool. Made him feel like a businessman like Dad.
"Hermes," the woman waiting on them said with a smile. The two of them shook hands and kissed each other's cheeks in greeting, and the four of them were guided to a table. "I guess you'd be Mr. Silversmith then."
It took Hall a few moments to realize she had been talking to him. He looked up at her and nodded with a polite smile. It was supposed to be funny, after all. Sometimes he felt like people hadn't stopped talking to him any differently from when he was eight to now, three years later. He was no adult, sure, but he was almost reaping age. And he wasn't even short. He was getting tall, like his father. But it wasn't worth it to be frustrated about.
The waiter brought menus over, and Hall looked out the window and watched all of the people walking by. He saw someone going down the street wearing a District Two shirt. It was getting close to reaping time. Last reaping before he would be going in. But he hadn't realized that people wore their favorite districts on shirts. It just didn't seem loud enough for a Capitolite to wear. But he guessed that the woman eating dinner with them was just wearing a navy pantsuit.
Eventually the people roaming by lost a little bit of his interest, and he wished he could be walking around the city himself. He started thinking about what it would be like if all the Capitolites knew him as a very famous designer, more so than his dad. A famous Capitol designer. He imagined wearing big yellow feather boas over a sequined white dress, and big yellow-tinted sunglasses, his hair behind him in a French braid. If he exited the building like that, famous as ever, all the people on the side of the street would crowd to him, asking for autographs. The person in the District Two shirt would come back, frantically asking him to sign his t-shirt, and he would decline. So he would run to the nearest store that sold Games t-shirts, and would buy the best District One shirt he could find. And then Hall would sign it, and be on his way, to his lavish apartment with gauzy black curtains and brick walls and shiny dark floors, where the kitchen and the living room melded into one, and the bedroom was exposed on a second story where you climbed a ladder instead of stairs.
His father and the other two were talking business and fashion in the Capitol now, and it was kind of interesting, but not near enough to stay in the moment. They didn't really notice that he was zoned out, so he spent his time crafting a world where he was rich and famous in the Capitol, and his dad could still run the business in District One and visit every once in a while like he already did, except then he would tell Hall how proud he was of him for carrying the business in the Capitol. He would wrap an arm around his shoulder instead of kneeling in front of him as if he was short enough for that, would say, I wouldn't ask for anything else, son.
He was so lost in thought, it didn't seem like any time at all before their food was brought to them. Capitol meals were so good, even their chefs at home couldn't replicate some of Hall's favorite things here.
Bouillabaisse, toasted baguette with cheese, a bowl of grapes and cherries, and steamed white asparagus. All the adults at the table were drinking, which meant that Dad would let him have a little sip of whatever wine or champagne he was having. Hall couldn't tell the difference. He just knew some of it was disgusting but he always enjoyed the sip anyway, because Dad grinned and winked at him like it was their little secret, even when there were others at the table chuckling.
He dreaded going back home in a couple days. Nothing in the world was so bad here.
present day
Hall didn't like the prick of his finger at registration. He was still resisting the urge to get rid of the cotton ball and suck on it instead. But that would probably be considered weird, and he was too old for that anyway.
He didn't recognize any of the twelve-year-olds around him. He didn't see a lot of kids his age, since his tutor taught him from home so that he would have time to model and watch his father run a business. But he did know one girl, Peony Shine Mills, who was also tutored from home. Her mother was nowhere near as successful as his father, but they were friends anyway, so he and Peony Shine spent a lot of time together. But he couldn't see her around. He realized he didn't even know if she was twelve yet. Maybe she was only eleven still. Or maybe she was already thirteen.
The collar of his shirt felt like it was restricting his neck, and the jewels on the edge of it itched. This really wasn't one of his father's best designs. It looked good, in theory, but in practice it seemed like a hazard.
Mayor Danilee was taking the stage. He was such an impressive man, standing 6'4 with broad shoulders and a deep, imposing voice. He never seemed scary despite his stature—to anyone, not just to Hall. He was a Career as a kid, although he never ended up volunteering or training anyone. Somehow he found his way out of training for the Games and into politics. That was what his father always said at least.
He watched him give the speech about the Treaty of Treason, which everyone quietly listened to out of respect. Hall had heard it enough times before, but it was kind of interesting to him. He didn't mind history, although some of it was really sad and hard to hear.
"The best of luck to our tributes this year," Mayor Danilee said when the mandated speech was over. His smile was warm and proud.
He stepped aside and sat back by the victors. District One's row was much fuller than some others, but after the second rebellion, his tutor told him that all the other victors were suspicious, considering how many turned against the Capitol. The ones who weren't executed or completely dishonored weren't allowed to mentor anymore, and mentors became strictly monitored and checked before being allowed to send tributes into the Games. Hall felt like that was a lot to go through for mentors, but he guessed that they were paranoid after the rebels got so far last time.
Lilith Angeline came onstage from the Justice Building, her arms outstretched in excited waves to the crowd as she hopped over to the reaping bowls, placed there as a formality. Hall felt like they were rigged to never reap the poor citizens, and they only kept the actual reaping in place to show off the young, future stars of District One, or the proud would-be volunteers who just weren't lucky enough to ever go into the Games.
As always, Lilith's entire outfit was white, like she was going into a wedding. She wore a big diamond necklace that sparkled as the sunlight hit it. It was kind of a cloudy day and he felt like it might rain later, but right now there was just enough sun to make it pleasant out here waiting in the massive square.
"Good morning, District One!" she said, her voice echoing pleasantly around the square. When she talked, it wasn't too squeaky like some escorts he saw on TV. It was just the pleasant sound of a Capitol accent, and a lot of spirit for the Games. "I am so proud to be up here, representing the Capitol for the fourth Quarter Quell!" She spoke like there would be cheers, but that wasn't really the atmosphere of a reaping. It was more about the business of getting the volunteers up there. Still, he felt like her attitude was better this way than dull or sour.
"I'd like to thank Mayor Aurum Danilee for a wonderful reading of the Treaty of Treason, as always," she continued. "Now, for the fun parts! Let's start with the ladies, shall we?"
She went over to the bowl filled with girls' names, thousands and thousands of unnecessary names, and stuck her hand in. She unfolded the slip of paper once it was in her hands and read the name out loud and clear: "Morgani Jude!"
A strong girl stepped out into the aisle and walked confidently toward the stage. She looked fourteen or fifteen, and definitely like she would be a contender for the volunteer spot in a few years. Exactly why he thought this part was rigged. She stepped onto the stage and stood proudly next to Lilith. Even though she wouldn't be going into the Games now, it was still an honor to stand up there for a lot of people, Hall was sure, and probably a preview into this girl's future.
"Good morning, Morgani," Lilith said, putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling at her, baring her intensely white teeth. She looked back out into the crowd after Morgani nodded her head and said, "Now for what we're all waiting for. Any volunteers?"
A girl from the very front of the sectioned-off areas stepped out, having been ready for this moment. "I volunteer as tribute," she said, not calling it out, but loud enough that it could be heard. For all the people piled into the square, even if she had yelled, her voice wouldn't carry without the microphone. All that really mattered was that the cameras picked it up.
She replaced Morgani on the stage, the two nodding at each other as they passed on the stairs. Before Lilith could ask her name, she made a gesture to ask if she could say something, and Lilith let her in front of the microphone. "My name is Dazzle Carlton," she announced confidently, a smile on her face that he was sure would draw the people in. He had watched enough Games to pick up on the different things tributes did to appeal to the audience.
"Very exciting," Lilith said. "Let's see who your district partner will be, Dazzle Carlton."
She went to the other bowl and drew out a name. Hall felt like District One reapings were so bland. They were Careers, so the reaped never went, and there wasn't the tension and bloodlust that there was in District Two, where glares seemed to come from everyone in the crowd who wasn't on stage, nor was there the relaxed environment of District Four, where no one seemed to care if something went a little wrong.
"Oh, well, this is really a treat," she said before she read the name. "Hall Silversmith!"
Hall paused for a moment, and then quickly went out into the aisle and headed toward the stage. He held his head up high like he always did when he was modeling, making sure to look proud and like he knew what he was doing. He was representing the Silversmiths here, just like his father predicted he might. Even more reason it was rigged! He was no Career, but his father was an important and well-known man, and his face wasn't unknown in Capitol fashion.
Once he was next to Lilith, on the other side as Dazzle, she looked over at him with a big grin on her face. "Now, I believe I know your name, don't I?" she said, and it felt like the times he imagined he would be famous and people would recognize him on the streets of the city.
He nodded and said toward the microphone. "My father is Hermes Silversmith." He scanned the crowd, wanting to see if he was making Dad proud. Eventually he spotted him, and saw his father's eyes gleaming.
"Well," she said, and there was more, but a loud BANG! cut her off. Everywhere at once there were screams and Hall cowered back before he knew what he was doing.
Everyone was running. He couldn't see his dad anymore, except— no, there he was, running toward the stage, like he was about to get Hall! He took a step forward again, but then felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see a Peacekeeper looming over him, pushing him toward the doors of the Justice Building.
"Dad!" he screamed, trying to pull away from the Peacekeeper. He couldn't turn around and see him anymore, and then he was in the building and he could still hear screaming outside. This time coupled with gunfire.
"Are the cameras off? Are the fucking cameras off?" someone yelled in a Capitol accent. He realized he had tears in his eyes. He didn't want to be in here with people he didn't know when Dad was coming to get him. "What the hell are they broadcasting?"
"It's off! It's off!" a camerawoman yelled as she found a gun pointed at her by a Peacekeeper. In the front lobby of the Justice Building. "It's been off since the screaming, I swear to God!"
He was herded along and he realized that Dazzle was right along with him, looking extremely confused, and Lilith was in front of him. "What's going on?" Lilith squawked, sounding unlike herself.
Hall wanted to thrash away from them and go home. That had been a bomb, he knew what they sounded like.
They were led out back to a silver car and pushed in. "Congratulations, kid," a Peacekeeper said directly to him before the door was shut. "You're going to the Hunger Games."
so i'm gonna keep the d5 reaping where it is right now but go in order down the district lines from now on, and when i get to d5 i'm going to reposition & put a filler chapter in the chapter 2 spot so that nat's reaping is in the right order. if that makes any sense sjdflkdsjf basically when district 5 comes things are goign to be slightly wonky bc i went out of order
mr hall silversmith here is from cantilatrix and he was a pleasure to write! i'm really excited about having such a different tribute for District One and having a plotty reason for why he's going instead of a volunteer!
let me know if you enjoy/what you maybe didn't enjoy and also if you liked the poem! it's by me & i feel like it really fits hall so i was very excited about it
also i spent about 2 hours last night brainstorming ideas to make this games really exciting esp with the extremely lowkey twist the quell got and like... i got ideas babey... i'm very excited!
there are still five spots left open!