Thank you to Mystical Pine Forest for Eden and Red Roses1000 for Weaver! I hope these tributes were written correctly... Need I say this? The Hunger Games aren't mine and never will be. Just saying this in case an idiot accuses me of anything. I'm broke.
Eden Janspoon, 16
District 10 Female
Today is a windy, overcast day. I hear nothing but my breaths as my legs push myself forward, forward, past the rows of houses lining the streets. I may not be the fastest runner, or have the most stamina, but each step proves itself to be therapeutic; it helps cleanse my mind of negative thoughts. I slow my pace as I see a slightly run-down house and stop at its front door. Home.
I open the front door and my senses are bombarded with the delectable smell of buttermilk pancakes. Upon entering, my brother, Gabriel, greets me.
"Hello Eden! How was your run?" He asks me.
I shrug. "Uneventful. I wanted to go outside before the Reaping, to help calm my nerves. You know?" The Reaping… It loomed before me like an ominous shadow waiting for just the right moment to strike its prey. If the escort calls my name… No. I don't want to think about what would happen to me and my family.
Gabriel doesn't catch the message (he is only 13) and asks me how I've been. "So you're ready for the Reaping now?" I nod, but Mother enters the room with a platter of pancakes in hand.
She looks at me disapprovingly and shakes her head. "Eden! Are you honestly leaving the house looking like that? Go wash! Now!" I frown. There's food out and Mother is asking me to bathe? That hardly ever happens… Did I look that haggard? Shaking my head, I turn to face her.
"I'll go wash after breakfast, if that's okay. I'm very hungry at the moment." Mother sighs and glares at me.
"Fine. But make it quick." Nodding, I tear into the fluffy pancakes. Food is amazing, especially when it tastes as good as this! Dad strolls in through the front door just as my mouth is stuffed full. He grins, tousling my long, chestnut colored hair.
"Good day Eden!" My Dad looks the exact opposite as me. While I have darker colored hair and deep, brown eyes, he has blonde hair and green eyes. Even though he is my father Angus Janspoon is my best friend. We can tell each other almost anything.
Gabriel puts his hand over his face. "Daddy's girl," I roll my eyes at him from across the table and sense Dad's hand touching my shoulder.
"I hate to rush you, sweetie, but we can't be wasting time. I doubt you would want to be late for the Reaping." Raising a finger into the air, I disagree with what he's saying.
"My poems need to be finished by tomorrow so I can present them on the due date. I think I'll just go work on them now!" Before Mother can come after me and tell me to bathe I slam Gabriel and I's bedroom door shut. Unlike other parents I've been told about, my Mother and Father always respected my privacy and so I wouldn't have to worry about leaving soon. I glance down at the perfectly folded paper on the desk before me with a sigh. Writing poems is a lovely pastime but… Something is definitely wrong with this one. I open it and read what I had written so far.
'Don't be polite.
Bite in.
Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that
may run down your chin.
It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are.
You do not need a knife or fork or spoon
or plate or napkin or tablecloth.
For there is no core
or stem
or rind
or pit
or seed
or skin
to throw away.'
I frown and fight the urge to crumple the paper up and toss it in the waste bin. The contest's topic is to combine two or more things you enjoy into one great metaphor, but the best combination I can think of is poetry and food. If I keep writing like this, everyone will have a better quality poem than me! I scour through the paper frantically, trying to analyze the paper and find anything I can use to make this piece of literature better, anything. My poem needs to be perfect. I could possibly change the indent line… No! I probably have to think of a brand new idea. But I've already spent so much time on this poem! I nearly jump out of my seat when someone harshly knocks on the door.
"What do you want?"
Dad answers my question with a slight tinge of hesitation. "Your mom says we're leaving in five minutes, so I suggest you change. Oh, and she's angry at you for not taking a shower, so prepare yourself for that."
I nod even though I know he can't see me. "Okay, I'll talk to you again after I'm done changing, all right?" The door remains silent, and I use the silence as a cue to search for today's outfit. I'm in the mood for something simple today, and so I settle for a pink blouse, denim skirt, and leather boots. It's best to always dress casual in case something happens, and with the Reaping, slightly stylish in case you're called. I hope I'm not, though – If I were, I'm dead.
Dad told me I had always been a quiet child, ever since the time I was an infant. I know, a quiet infant sounds believable right? I'd hardly cry over the trivial things that many babies bawl at, and so I'd consider myself an easy child to take care of. At least compared to other children I've seen. Look at how quickly that changed though. Ever since I've grown up, all I've become is a quiet pessimist who can find absolutely nothing good in herself or others. What a charming girl.
I leave my room and see the rest of my family looking at me. "Are you finally ready?" My exasperated Mom asks me, and I nod as a sign of affirmation.
I'm as ready as I'll ever be.
Weaver Palomino, 18
District 10 Male
Maya and I's hands are interlocked with each other whilst we stroll towards the town square. I can't believe how this year is the last year my name will be in that bowl. Only one more year until we're both safe from the game's clutches.
I twirl my girlfriend's wavy, dark brown hair with my fingers and smile to myself. She's so beautiful, and kind, and intelligent… She's perfect. It's just that Maya comes from the poor side of the district. I wonder how it would have been like if she were wealthy like my parents. Scratch that, if she were rich I wouldn't have been interested in her.
Somebody taps my shoulder and I turn my head, already knowing who I'd see. Diana Kilstine, Maya's mother. She smiles and gives us a reassuring nod of the head. She is a beautiful woman for someone in their late 40's, and appearance wise is like Maya except with different colored eyes. Maya's eyes are a soothing, light gray while her mother's is a bright, emerald green.
It must have been terrible for them when a Peacekeeper killed their father on accident. They say the gun misfired and the bullet "accidentally" shot him straight in the chest. I remember the bloodcurdling stories Maya told me of what she remembered of the night – Her mother screaming when seeing the dead body of her husband on the road. The insincere apology of the Peacekeeper. Diana holding him close and burying him in the hard ground of outside their home. Maya planting daisies over the mound of dirt. I knew I was a part of the family when she let me hold in my hand a golden flower. A flower that's used to decorate the site of the burial. A sign of hope, of innocence. At that moment I knew someone cared.
"Weaver!" The sharp voice of Maya shakes me away from my thoughts. I smile at her and awkwardly blush.
"Um… Sorry?" I say. Maya shakes her head and I can see Diana barely holding in her laughter.
Maya sees her mother and blushes hard. "Mo-om! Don't!" They both end up bursting out laughing, and I join in soon after they start. The Kilstine's have been through so much but they were always so lighthearted, unlike my parents.
Ugh.
"Oh, look! It's the check-in counter! You two should begin heading over there" Diana says, and I nod.
"Okay." Maya hugs her mom and kisses her on the cheek. They spend a long moment in an embrace and seeing them wave me over I go to them and join their hug. I wish I had always had such a loving family, but sadly? No. My parents didn't abuse me or anything, they didn't live life the way I wanted to, all they did was throw away money.
Diana lets go of us and glances around in alarm as the Peacekeepers put up five fingers into the air. "There's only 5 minutes before the Reaping. You better get yourselves checked in now."
"I will!" Maya says nervously, and after getting our fingers pricked go over to our own individual sections. At least, we should have been. Instead we stood in the back, holding hands in silence until Peacekeepers drag us into separate 18-year-old sectors. I stand near the edge and keep eye contact with Maya all throughout the mayor's speech. Ugh, the mayor… My parents worked with him, and so I assume he's a snobbish brat. Maya and I roll our eyes at each other as the escort, Aelina, struts onto the stage. She was strange, even for a Capitolite. Her skin was stark white and her hair is dyed rainbow. Her clothing was also all multicolored, and I can't help laughing out loud. Aelina glares in my general direction as other boys around me also let out a chuckle and gestures at the television.
"Stop laughing and pay attention to the video! Please?" She sounded as if she's close to hysterics. I wonder what's wrong with her, but it's probably nothing. The Capitol knows nothing about tragedy, about angst. The video finally ends, and she reaches into the female bowl with a scowl on her face.
"EDEN JANSPOON!" She practically screams. A relatively well-built girl of average height strolled out of the 16-year-old section and onto the stage. I wonder how she feels right now. That emotionless expression on her face is fake, right?
The girl flips her hair while Aelina plays with the paper in the boys' bowl. I give a reassuring nod to Maya and she smiles back at me. I'm glad they didn't pick her… Hopefully the same could be said about me. What's taking Miss Rainbow so long, anyway? She finally finds a paper she likes and opens it up, slowly, painstakingly…
"WEAVER PALOMINO!" Why was she screaming my name? I hear a scream and someone yelling my name out loud and it comes into focus. Oh no. I need to get out of here! I try to run away, but a Peacekeeper stands right in front of me. No! The Peacekeeper drags me onto the stage where I stand, trembling. I must look so weak right now.
"Shake hands," The escort demands as we both stand there. She looks at me and extends her hand over. Smiling, I grab it in mine and give it a polite shake. I have to win this. I have to, for Maya. For the future.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you THE MALE AND FEMALE TRIBUTES OF DISTRICT TEN!" The microphone screeches as Aelina yells into it. If this screaming represents how the she always acts, we'll both be deaf before reaching the arena! We're finally led out of the town square and into the Justice Building, where Diana and Maya are both already standing.
"What… What took you so long?" Maya asks me between sobs. I grab her into a warm hug and kiss her gently on the lips. We stay in that position, together, until the Peacekeepers drag her from the room.
I guess my parents are rooting for my death right now. Maybe they think its justice for falling for that girl from the bad part of town. Whatever they think, I don't care anymore. I only care about my survival.
Thank you for reading! I feel I've said this before... Actually, I haven't. Just ignore me, I wrote a whole long A/N here and it was deleted and I'm quite frankly annoyed. Excuses below...
I had zero inspiration during Weaver's POV. I don't know... His form was great but I had no idea how I wanted to write him. My loss, I guess. Oh well. I felt like Eden went well.
The poem in her POV was not written by me. It's called How To Eat a Poem and it's by Eve Merriam. My idea of a poem is more like:
Roses are red
Water is blue
Everyone is dead
And now you are, too
See why I'm not a poet? All I can think of is death. How do people even read poems? And analyze them? I can't even read a page long poem without nearly falling asleep. Guess who's probably going to fail English when she's older? *raises hand* Ugh.
This is the fifth reaping chapter, and now that it's out... Only 7 more to go! I would skip the rest except it wouldn't be fair for the other authors who submitted people. I really want to skip them and get going though...!
Just so you know... If you have an Instagram you should join my Hunger Games RP. *shamelessly self-advertises*. The account is bread_and_berries! You know what, just ignore this (I'm useless.)
Questions:
1). Favorite tribute out of these two?
2). Who do you think stands a bigger chance though?
3). Opinions on poems?
4). Any mechanics or grammar I need to correct (not my A/N the story itself)?
David12341... Was the Reaping format more to your liking? Even if it didn't look like it the chapter was longer than the previous ones XD. I still need 2 more male tributes, from District 6 and 7. I would appreciate if you don't have 3 tributes in yet, if you can submit some! Bye!