District 6 Reapings
Beatrice Toland, Victor of the 16th Hunger Games
In Beatrice's eyes, the world was like a machine. When Beatrice was a little girl, she would sometimes go into her father's workshop where he was always tinkering with this or that. Beatrice was fascinated with how the cogs and gears all worked in harmony to achieve something so much greater than the sum of its parts. Every single piece had a meaning. And, once a piece lost its meaning, it was useless. Once a piece lost its meaning, it was thrown onto some shelf or thrown away. The world was like a huge machine, and each person was a cog or a gear. Every human worked together to move humanity forwards. And, if a person lost their meaning, they were useless. What was Beatrice's meaning? That was what she had wondered for her entire life. Ever since she turned to morphling to dissuade her demons, every single day of her life had been hell on earth. Whatever Beatrice's meaning was, she had lost it.
Beatrice stood, cold and alone, the only living female victor from District 6. Beatrice watched as the woman who was District 6's escort pulled out the only slip of paper in the women's reaping bowl and unfolded it.
"Beatrice Toland!" she announced grandly as if it she wasn't expecting the name to be Beatrice's.
Beatrice sauntered up to the microphone. She was getting old, and she was going to die soon. Perhaps these games would be for her own good if it meant the memories of her past disappearing forever.
Markus Gardd, Victor of the 18th Hunger Games
Markus watched with great sadness as his wife walked up to the microphone, the light of his life that had made him smile with each new day. Markus was growing old. He was recently diagnosed with liver cancer and was given three years to live. He knew that if his name was not picked, he would volunteer.
Markus watched as the woman who was District 6's escort approached the men's reaping bowl. District 6 had two living male victors. One of them was Markus. One of them was a very young man, still of normal reaping age himself. The escort picked out one of the names before sauntering back over to the microphone and reading it aloud.
"Markus Gardd," she cried out. Markus sauntered forth and held hands with his wife. They were going into the Hunger Games. But, the real Markus and Beatrice were already gone. They had lost their meanings. They were among countless little screws and bolts, tossed into some dark corner to accumulate dust until somebody picks them up or until the end of time.
Here are the District 6 tributes! This story is now halfway done :)
