I hate making deadlines for myself - but, I promised mnmdancin12 that I'd get these Reapings up by New Years'. Then the fifth. Nothing like procrastination, eh?
Kameryn Sapphire, District 1 Escort
I stepped onto the stage hastily. The Mayor had just finished his monotone of a speech, reading the Treaty of Treason, and I wanted to get this Reaping over as quickly as possible. I just hoped that I didn't mess up; the last Escort who didn't pull the right name for District 1 out of the Reaping bowl was executed.
I slid into my place in front of the microphone and greeted District 1 with my signature line: "Helll-llllo District 1," I called. "It is that time of year again! Time for the FOURTH QUARTER QUELL! I, personally, cannot wait for the Games to start... So let's get this party started!"
I let my hand hover over the Reaping bowl - just a plain old bowl - for a moment before I plunged in. My fingers hit that slip - you know, the one that kinda jolts you? I pulled it out and held it up where I could see it. "Shimlae Jackson!"
A boy in a basketball outfit and spiky black hair stepped out of the crowd. "I'm Shimlae," he stated, as he started walking to the stage, his height and strong build not diminished by his tiredly slumping shoulders. Another boy slipped out of the crowd. "I Vol-"
The new kid was cut off by Shimlae swiftly spinning and punching him. "Don't," Shimlae growled. "You aren't right in the head, kid. You wouldn't last the Bloodbath." Shimlae then kicked the fallen child viciously in the ribs and stormed to the stage.
I stared at him as he walked towards me. Then I took the microphone off the stand and handed it to him, saying "How old are you?" He glared at me and I couldn't tell what emotion was flashing through his brown eyes. I looked away and then looked back - was that a flash of blue in his eyes? Sure enough, his irises were a bright blue rimmed with dark brown.
Suddenly, he spoke, breaking me out of my musings. "I'm fifteen," he stated clearly. I turned back to face most of the crowd. "Your tribute for the FOURTH QUARTER QUELL!"
Lyric Utrymme, District 2 Escort
"Vivian Johannson!" I cried. As soon as the words left my mouth, a girl with dark brown hair that was held back in a French braid stepped forward. She stood firmly in the middle of the square untill people cleared a path for her, then shouted "I volunteer as tribute!"
She then made her way to the stage, her loose pale blue blouse and dark indigo jeans rustling as she walked quickly and confidently. Once the volunteer was on the stage, I turned to her and asked "What's your name? How old are you?"
She responded quickly, eagerly. "My name is Augusta Brighton." Here she paused and giggled. "I'm seventeen!"
I turned back to the crowd. "Augusta Brighton, your tribute!"
Aurora Austriallis, District 3 Escort
I stepped towards the microphone to shake hands with the Mayor, who had just finished his speech. I then turned to the crowd of people gathered in the District 3 square and almost fainted. It was my first year as an Escort, and I was nervous.
"Hello, District 3," I said calmly. "It's my first time as an Escort, so I'll introduce myself. My name is Aurora Austriallis. Now, let's see who the luck tribute is!"
I turned to the Reaping bowl and did exactly as Kameryn had instructed me: dip hand, draw the slip that tingles, remove hand. I swiveled back to face the crowd again. "Glitch Connors!"
I had to wait a moment before a boy, who was white as a sheet and sweating profusely, stepped out of the crowd. He made his way stumblingly to the stage. A stained white dress shirt clung to him, damp spots dotting his back, and his pinstriped black pants were faded and baggy. Once he got to the stage, I looked at him and said "Glitch?"
He nodded, and I asked "How old are you?" He looked at me strangely. "I, uh... Oh! I'm fifteen!"
I shook my head slightly as I announced "District 3! Your tribute, GLITCH CONNRS!"
Noralinda Peach, District 4 Escort
I walked onto the stage apprehensively. Last year, for the 99th Hunger Games, I had worn a dress that the President herself had scolded me for. This year, however, I was playing it safe. I was wearing a dark blue suit jacket with a high-button white fitted blouse on underneath and a dark blue knee-length pencil skirt. Nothing provocative, nothing dangerous. Just... modest. And restricting. And boring.
I spoke rapid-fire into the microphone. "HELLODISTRICTFOUR, itissogoodtoseeyouagain! IcannotwaitfortheGamestostartsolet'sgetthisReapingdone - thatwaywecan... gettotheCapitolandtheGamescanbegin!"
By now, everyone in the square looked dazed. I stepped quickly to the reaping bowl and pulled out a name. I spun back around just as quickly and shot off the name: "Ripple Drift!"
A small girl with darkly tanned skin and jet-black hair stumbled out of the crowd. She was wearing a light blue sleeveless shirt that was impeccably pressed, and a white knee-length skirt that rustled and snapped as her steps went from stumbling to quick and precise. She made it to the stage quickly, and even before I could ask her, she'd already captured the microphone and said "Hello, District 4! I'm your twelve-year-old tribute this year- Happy Hunger Games!"
I stared in amazement. Then I gently reclaimed the microphone and looked back to the crowds. "You heard the kid- HAPPY HUNGER GAMES!"
Galia (pronounced Gal-LI-ah) Keukatan, District 5 Escort
I sighed in frustration. Slipping my comb out of my pocket, I quickly pulled my bright-yellow hair up into a ponytail. Every year, I hope the wind will be calm enough that I can keep my hair down. Every year, IT ISN'T. Gah.
I stepped to the reaping bowl without even addressing the crowd. Pulling a slip, I looked at it and nod to myself. Dyslexia makes it kinda hard to read some names, but this one was easy. I faced the microphone and called out the name: "Abe Kaydoff!"
A boy walked bravely to the stage. His brown hair, ruffled in the brisk wind, had streaks of grey in it, and the boy was awfully thin. His plaid collared shirt caught the wind, and it ballooned, causing Abe to look as though he was a balloon that was about to fly away and his jeans just made his legs look absurdly skinny.
He made it to the stage without mishap. I turned and inquired "How old are you?"
He looked at me and coughed. "I am twelve," he enunciated clearly. I stare at him in shock. Never before had I heard a twelve year old speak so perfectly!
Recovering, I turned to the population of District 5. "Abe Kaydoff, YOUR TRIBUTE!"
Sorry I took so long to upload... Been really buisy lately because of having to find another ballet Academy - the one I've been going to for the last 11 years closed, then the one I was at for about 5 months closed, so we've finally found a suitable Academy again!
