Heyhey, Back with the District 11 Reapings; I've managed to completely plan out the whole story! I've changed it so many times and now I've managed to finally nail it down… It won't be changing! I refuse to deviate from my plot, I have my bloodbaths ;) It could be anyone…. Could it be one of these tributes we're about to meet?
Haha, anyway… Thanks to:
Meganlucindaxo for Clorisa Orielle
AND
Lugpra for Nicholas Potrola
Clorisa Orielle, District 11.
I hum the familiar lullaby, the lilting melody soothes me as I go through the motions of packing the previous days harvest into the stiff cardboard boxes which carry them to the Capitol; my voice grows in volume as I notice I'm alone, my soft voice resonates throughout the packaging room. I pick up the box and move toward the pulley system which would lift it to the platform from which it is placed into the Capitol trains. I strain to lift the weight of the box and I falter sending the box crashing to the floor, assorted fruit and vegetables roll along the floor and I scramble around trying to gather it all back up; I freeze in fear as I hear a loud shout.
'What have you done, you retard girl?' It's a Peacekeeper, and in all honesty his words seem harsh and very inappropriate but who am I to question someone which such authority; who am I as one person to dispute the fact I'm a retard when everybody seems to believe it?
Yes, I am the 'retard' of District 11, criticised for being different; there's something about me which marks me out in comparison to everybody else, not that anyone could tell by simply looking at me; it is not anything physical which determines my inferior status.
To the plain eye I am distinctly average, maybe even considered pretty by some people's standards: I have caramel coloured skin due to my inter-racial heritage, it seems to glow in the heat of the blistering sun which is the norm here in District 11; my broad cheekbones and full lips lend to the idea of me possessing some exotic beauty; I have amber coloured eyes which differentiate me from the brown eyes which are the uniform in my home district and my satin like black hair seems to constantly shine.
I am not beautiful, and there are certain things which make me appear to belong amongst the working population of the agricultural district; like the fact I'm more than lucky to have one full meal a week, it's a miracle if I don't go to bed with pangs of hunger disturbing any chance I have of a peaceful nights sleep. It is blatantly obvious that I live a life of poverty by my emaciated frame, severely underweight for my 5'5'' frame; although some find the image repulsive I am perfectly capable of counting each and every one of my ribs, and my hipbones seem to strain against my silky, russet skin.
So if it's not my physical appearance it must be something deeper, something not superficial in nature; something within me. At first there were rumours I were possessed by a demon; that was the supposed cause of the fits of inconsolable rage, the fact I would black out for hours at time only to remember nothing at all but haunted by some strange sense of guilt as if I have committed some unforgiveable crime. Now everyone just deems me mentally unstable; although the term they find more appropriate for my condition is 'retard', however much it pains me I personally can think of no other term to describe this strange ailment I am afflicted with. Nobody knows the scientific cause of what festers within me, this silent curse has no name but it somehow controls every aspect of my life; it is what has earned me a life of unpopularity, the reputation as the district 'freak'. Clorisa Orielle, District 11's resident retard.
It makes me mad. It honestly does but what am I, a simple 16 year old girl to do? Nothing, I must simply live knowing that everybody else looks down at me as inferior; it is a morbid destiny I have accepted. I keep my gaze averted towards the practical tiled floor, a much braver person would stare into the hateful eyes of the Peacekeeper; some would even contradict the Peacekeeper for insulting them. But that's not me, I don't want to incur the wrath of this man; the Peacekeepers of our district are renowned for their limitless brutality, their cruelty and their desire to cause pain whether it physical or psychological. So I continue to avoid the vicious glare of the Peacekeeper knowing that to object in anyway would be nothing but an invitation for him to beat me senseless or simply kill me and remove the 'retard' from the equation.
'Well, little girl. I know you may struggle to understand this so I'll explain it slowly; your wages are being docked, to pay for your reckless actions. The blatant vandalism, you should be thankful that I'm letting you off so easily' I gnaw on my plump lips, and risk a quick glance toward the man who is currently towering over me; he is leering, daring me to challenge his word. Under any other circumstances I would've just complied but to take my wages is to take food from my family's mouths, and I cannot allow this.
'I-I think that's…u-unfair' The Peacekeeper just stares at me dumbfounded, taking a few seconds to process it but he soon collects his wits; his skin becomes tinged a puce colour and his breathing becomes laboured, consumed by rage his balled fist flies out. The force of his punch sends me flying across the room, I see lights before my eyes as a ringing fills my ears; but before I can regain awareness of my surroundings I feel pain slice through my abdomen forcing me into a ball as he kicks me repeatedly. I begin to hum to myself, to cut myself from the physical world, the unbearable pain as the Peacekeeper sadistically beats me with his feet and balled fists.
'Stop! This instant' the beating ceases and I open my eyes to see nothing but a blinding white light; has it finally happened? Have I died? My joy at finally escaping the brutality of my life in District 11 is cut short when I realise I am still here, my breathing laboured and my muscles screaming in unbearable agony. I look to see my saviour, the person who had called halt to my violent assault; it is a middle aged woman with dark hair and eyes and olive skin. I'd say the woman was around 40 years of age but unlike many of the older people in the district this woman had not wilted, she had not become weak or feeble; in fact she looks strong, formidable: An avenging Goddess, her eyes burning into the perpetrator of my beating; radiating a rage unlike anything I'd seen before, yet she kept throwing furtive glances at me and in those fleeting moment her eyes soften; appearing almost caring.
'I am doing my duty as a Peacekeeper; this criminal has damaged goods before their shipment to the Capitol, so I urge you to leave before you are also brought under scrutiny regarding the laws of Panem, for aiding and abetting criminal activity' the Peacekeeper's voice is a menacing hiss, a clear threat to the middle aged woman but she looks anything but intimidated; in fact she laughs and crosses her muscled arms across her chest, a clear signal of challenge.
'Well young man, I think you'd have a hard time trying to 'scrutinize' me because firstly you do not scare me at all so you can stop with trying to threaten me and secondly, the Capitol do not take well to their Victor's being shown in anything but a positive light. So think about this, you try and punish me and the fate which awaits you would be ten times worse than anything you could do to me.' Victor? This woman must have won the Hunger Games at some point. Amazing. The Peacekeeper looks abashed and is walking towards the exit as if to escape, a dog with his tail clearly between his legs; I cannot help but smile at how he has been taken down a peg or two, the Victor notices and smiles before winking in my direction. As soon as the Peacekeeper is near the exit, he turns and darts from the building.
'Well, he was definitely a funny onion wasn't he?' The woman chuckles at her own joke, she extends her hand as if to help me up; why would she do that? Why would anybody stick up for me, I am the outcast; but the woman's smile seems genuine, her large brown eyes twinkle with a grandmotherly affection yet I hesitate. The woman's mouth curls downward in a frown and her forehead wrinkles in confusion, this woman was kind enough to help me and here I am; ignoring her help and most likely insulting her kindness, in an attempt to rectify this mistake I extend my hand, accepting her kind offer for help. She pulls me to my feet, I instantly wrap my thin arms around my waist as if to try and lessen the pain.
'Did he hurt you, young lady?' I just shake my head, it is painful but in all honesty I've had worse; to try and appease the elder woman I arrange my features into a pleasant smile, it's no use for the older woman to worry about me but she still trails her eyes up and down my body to look for any injuries. Apparently pleased that none of injuries are causes for greater concern she smiles warmly at me.
'Well, the name's Seeder. And you are?' I'm weary about answering seeing that people only ever speak to me if it is to insult me, the only exception being my family; but this woman has shown no intention of being cruel, in fact she has been nothing but kind and in that moment I make a decision to trust the woman.
'Clorisa Orielle, but call me Clo. Thank you for earlier' my voice escapes as a musical whisper. It is a poor expression of my gratitude, but my lack of social interaction outside the cocoon of my family has left me rather awkward when it comes to circumstances like these; I have no idea as to what to say so I simply stand there, humming the simple four note tune which is used within the orchards to signal the end of the working day to try and fill the awkward silence.
'Well Clo, I'd better be going. I have a long head of me today, with the reapings and such so I'll leave you to your business; Have a good day and may the odds be ever in your favour' She imitated our infamous district escort when she repeated the Hunger Games slogan: May the odds be ever in your favour. She turns and walks away, what a surreal experience; I stand there for a second to ensure this even really did happen, someone had shown me kindness; been genuinely pleasant to the 'retard' and I just smile at the revelation that not all of the people in the world are essentially cruel. Another thing she said pops to mind, it's reaping day and as if to emphasize this I hear the shrill siren which echoes throughout the whole of the district; the signal that the reapings are to begin shortly and with that thought I rush from the room, towards home.
Nicholas Potrola, District 11.
I slide the sizzling bacon onto the plate, and then the scrambled eggs; I glance around the kitchen to see my sister is nowhere in sight. I sigh, I'd already called the little minx downstairs five times and she really needs to start listening to me. I head to the door way and call up the stairs in what I think to be a menacing voice.
'Celeste Potrola, get down these stairs now. I won't ask again' my shout is rewarded with a loud huff from the top of the stairs and then a series of loud thuds as my sister storms down the stairs, over dramatically of course. She's only 11 years old but she is already a feisty one, I genuinely pity the poor man who becomes her husband; I love my little sister more than anything in the world but the truth of the matter is that she is extremely high maintenance.
'Nic, why did you wake me up? its soooo early' Celeste rubs her glittering blue eyes as if she is tired but this is only for dramatic affect, I know for a fact that she was dancing around her room for the last half an hour but I make the smart decision not to rile her; she may be tiny but if I were to irk her somehow I know she would extract some form of revenge, and I know it won't be nice for me at all.
'Sorry, but we have a busy day ahead of us Celeste, if it were any other day you know I'd let you sleep in, God knows you need some beauty sleep' she struts over and smacks me across the arm before seating herself at the wooden table and cutting into her bacon, she would of usually chewed me out for my little jibe but seeing as it is reaping day she lets it slide. Although my chances are odds are technically in my favour I have never been able to rid myself of the nagging thought that I could be selected as a tribute, Celeste; being the closest person to me is well aware of these thoughts and just leaves me to wallow in my sombre thoughts, knowing it's useless to try and cheer me up on a day where two children are snatched from their homes and forced into some gladiatorial tournament.
I sit at the table, as we're eating breakfast we just sit in silence; it's a companionable silence, not awkward at all but I find myself craving the familial camaraderie that I see in other houses as I walk to school every morning; I want the doting mother and the cheeky chap of a father but I know that little wish of mine will never come true. See, I have no rite to moan about my life; my family is one of the lucky few within the district viewed as 'economically prosperous' or that's how father refers to our family unit, we get to go to bed with full stomachs, we get to eat candy and we get to wear the finest clothes which District 11 has to offer. Most people, particularly the poorer people are jealous of us, we want for nothing; living in the lap of luxury seeing as both of our parents are employed as personal advisors to Mayor Hucatta.
The ironic thing within this whole situation is that they shouldn't be the jealous party; yes, materially we have everything we could possibly need but they have something that I desperately want: a loving family; they may starve and face adversity but I'd rather do that knowing that I have a loving family with me every step of the way rather than how I live; I am practically running a household and raising my younger sister while my parents cast themselves in the role of the absentee parents. I think that Celeste must sense my rapidly deteriorating mood as she nudges me in the ribs with her elbow, flashing me a blinding smile.
'So Nic, what we gotta do today?' Ha, my younger sister is great at pulling me from my sullen moods, it must be her vibrant youth; but most likely it's because she wouldn't tolerate me being a 'moody teenager' and I know better then to test her patience, especially in the morning.
'Well, I have a few errands for you to do; it's reaping day so I'll be cooking us something special. Plus I have to get ready and I don't want a snot faced kid getting under my feet' I lean to ruffle her hair and wink, showing her I'm only jesting but she huffs none the less and slaps my hand away. I take our dishes to the sink and begin to scrub them clean while I reel off a list of jobs I need her to do. Celeste waltzes over to the door but she stops and turns back.
'Nic?' Her expression is worrying me, she is chewing her lip nervously and twiddling her thumbs; I don't like seeing her get like this, it means she wants to talk about something serious; genuinely serious, not child rated. I sigh and then walk over and scoop her petite frame into my arms.
'What's up kid?' I smile lovingly down at my sister, the only real family I have; it's my job as the big brother to protect her and make whatever's worrying her disappear, a job I'm more than willing to do. No 11 year old should have to worry about anything; in Panem, childhood and innocence are rare commodities but they're commodities I will do anything to make sure Celeste gets.
'What happens if you get reaped?' This is a difficult question, admittedly I could get reaped; I may only have 6 slips in the reaping bowl but it doesn't make me exempt from being picked, last year in District 8 the Mayor's son had been reaped. I hate that my sister's young mind is plagued with such adult thoughts, she shouldn't have to think about such things but the damn Hunger Games have stolen her pure thoughts and replaced them with these thoughts of life and death. It gets ten time's worse next year when Celeste herself is eligible for the reaping; I exhale and then place Celeste back on her feet.
'Well if it does happen, you have to realise that life goes on and not go around moping for me; I'll do whatever it takes to come home but in the meantime you'll have to go and stay with the McElroy's and when I get back it'll be me and you again; living in one of the massive mansions in the Victor's Village. Does that answer your question?' She simply nods and throws her arms around my waist and I pull her close; it will always be my job to erase her worries and every word I said is true, if by some chance I am reaped I will do whatever I must to ensure that I come home to my little sister.
'Nic, it's you and me forever' and on that note my sister jumps to kiss me on the cheek, flying from the house like a bullet to go and do her jobs; I stand there for a moment, thinking of what my sister just said: It really is just the two of us, well and the McElroy's but essentially I'm all my sister has and I will never let myself be taken away from her. It would be totally irresponsible for me to leave her alone; nobody deserves that especially if they're only 11.
By the time I've gotten into my reaping clothes Celeste still hasn't returned but it doesn't worry me too much, knowing my little sister she's bumped into someone she knows and she's chatting the day away but she had better be hurrying home soon since the clock on the mantelpiece is saying that the reapings are to commence in just over an hour, and we still have to go and meet Carrick. I look at myself in the mirror, although my parents are rarely home they will be at the ceremony with the Mayor so I had better make sure I look like the 'young gentleman' they expect me to be. My black dress shirt and trousers are made from a soft cotton, most likely from the cotton plants harvested in District 9, I take a long hard look at myself: The pale skin that singles me out from the darker skinned people of my district, the dark blue eyes and the chestnut hair styled into casual disarray; my face is narrow and my nose is very slender giving me an almost feline appearance and my limbs are lined with wiry muscles: I look like a fierce feline and I cannot help but be infused with confidence that if I were reaped I would actually stand a chance.
My internal monologue is disturbed as Celeste breezes into the room, almost simultaneously with the shrill alarm signalling that the reaping ceremony is almost upon us, I quirk my eyebrow at Celeste as if to ask for an explanation but she is suddenly interested in her nails and quite blatantly ignoring me; if she's this bad now I am dreading when she becomes a teenager: Celeste and hormones makes one hell of a time bomb I'm guessing.
'Well when you stop ignoring me would you care to enlighten me as to where you've been?' she just rolls her eyes, as she always does when I border on father territory with my questions, sometimes I have to restrain myself from telling her I may as well be her father seeing as he is hardly ever around but I don't really want her to become as bitter as myself.
'Okay, I'm sorry. I was dawdling and I bumped into that kind lady who drops off the oranges, well she's just had a baby, she's so cute with massive brown eyes, a total cherub. Called her Rue, you know like the mountain flower? And well we got chatting and I ended up giving her some coins to get something for the baby, she tried to say no but you know.' This is why I love Celeste, she can be temperamental and strike the fear of God into most people, but she truly does have a heart of gold; she'd rather share our wealth than just let it accumulate.
'That's very nice of you sis, but we'd better be off seeing as we've got to grab Carrick on the way.' She just nods and so we're off; as we make our way into the town centre I spot my friend Carrick McElroy, with his goofy grin and dark skin he seems to be my polar opposite in both looks in personality: I'm pale and his dark skinned, I'm rather serious and he has a devil may care attitude in regard to everything, the list is endless but he is the only person ever to be invited into mine and Celeste's little circle; both me and my sister class him as our brother and his parents, Giles and Aneeta, are our adopted parents who gives the parental affection our own parents are too busy to dispense. They've figuratively taken us under their wing and class us as their own children; they are a gift from God. Celeste and I are extremely lucky to have such wonderful people's lives intertwined with our own.
'C, Nic; where've you been? Oh, and Mam says you two are at ours for dinner, no objections either Nic, Mam said she'll have you with the mallet if you don't show up. And between us, well it's that special time of the month' honestly, I sometimes wonder how we ever became friends, he says the most inappropriate things and in front of my younger sister; but without such inappropriateness he wouldn't be Carrick and however much I try to deny it: I wouldn't change my doofus of a best friend for anything in the world. We chat amiably as we head towards the Justice Building, and in no time we're in our designated area for 16 year olds and Celeste has gone to stand with the McElroy's.
Mayor Hucatta has just wrapped up his speech about the 'Treaty of Treason', the same as every year and Carrick decided to mouth along the whole time; the one thing about reaping day is that at least it is predictable unlike the rest of the games because just on cue our District escort bursts onto stage in a flurry of colour and overly flamboyant hand gestures. Talus Mortemere is inhumanly skinny and is dyed all the colours of the rainbow quite literally and he wears a wig that seems to alternate between the colours of the rainbow; he is literally so bright and bouncy that when he speaks your jaw hits the flaw: his voice is incredibly deep and he makes everything sound incredibly solemn when you're expecting a shrill squeak.
'Welcome District 11 to the reaping ceremony for the 62nd Annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour' I roll my eyes at this, although I'm not essentially a fan of the games I just wish he'd cut all the formalities and just get to the point: choosing the two poor souls who are to be thrown into a gladiator arena because every second is torture; the anticipation of who will be sent to their death. Will it be your neighbour? Your best friend? I sneak a glance at Carrick and he is simply staring ahead, appearing aloof.
'As tradition dictates we begin with the female tribute… Clorisa Orielle' I see a girl walk out of the 16 year old section and make her way onto the stage, she stares blankly into the crowd; appearing as the picture of serenity with a lazy smile on her face. I hear sniggers from the crowd, hushed whispers and I get the general impression that she isn't well liked by the townspeople. I cannot fathom as to why, she's very beautiful: with caramel coloured skin and hair that falls like a curtain of ebony satin; she's very skinny but there seems to be some sort of subtle strength about the girl, something enigmatic. Something incredibly alluring. As I continue to stare at the beautiful girl I almost miss the male tribute being called, until I hear Carrick's sharp intake of breath.
'Nicholas Potrola' that's me.
Seeder Fernwright, District 11 Mentor.
I snatch the bottle from Chaff's hand, he won his games 10 years ago and since then his been drinking quite a lot; I swear he thinks I'm his mother, I do his cleaning and I do his cooking. The little rascal will most likely be the death of me but I kind of like it; getting to be all maternal, even if he is a grown man. I never got to have children of my own and that's what makes the Hunger Games worse: every year it feels as though I'm sending two of my children to that blasted arena and at least one is guaranteed death.
'Oh lighten up Seeder, your always being bossy; just relax, have a drink' He smiles at me, a big toothy grin and an answering smile blossoms onto my face; as I said this childish moron will be the death of me. I still shake my head though, however much he'd like to sit around playing silly buggers he needs to realise we have a job to do.
'Chaff Lemmingway, you are starting to test my patience and God above, if you cannot act you age I'll make you wear a bib and a nappy. From now on if you continue to act like a child I will bloody treat you like one' He pouts at me and tries to bat his eyes like a puppy dog, but after 10 years I've grown immune to Chaff's charm and in all honesty he looks ridiculous; a 6 foot man with bulging muscles attempting to win over an old woman like myself with puppy dog eyes is really a sight to see. I laugh and his throaty chuckle joins me.
'So, Seeder baby: what you think of the tributes?' I smile fondly at Chaff, he is a menacing man but has a heart as big as his biceps; he wants to help them in any way he can and he does take his job as mentor very seriously. That's why I do allow him to indulge in a drink every now and then, because I know he will have his head in the game when he needs to. Unlike poor Haymitch, that man has really lost his way and who can blame him; he's pretty much alone in this world and that's why I encourage Chaff's relationship with him: you can never have enough friends.
'Well, I already know the girl, helped her get out of a tight spot with some Peacekeeper fellow this morning, he was a nasty brat but she seems sweet enough and the boy has a good build; from one of the richer families I assume. Can't tell much from just looking at them but I think we should try and encourage an alliance' Chaff is nodding his head, a thoughtful look marring his features and then he turn to me a smile on his lips.
'You only want them to ally so you can spend time with me right Seeder?' I give a short bark of laughter which is cut short when he cups my face with his one remaining hand and plants a sloppy kiss right onto my lips; I am shocked, how inappropriate? I smack his hand away and give him a withering look.
'Try that again Chaff and I will take your other arm, now time to get serious. Or is that beyond your capabilities? I think maybe I should mentor alone if your not up to the job and…' I am cut short by the tears pooling in his eyes and I pull the mountain of a man into my arms; I went too far, he only ever wanted to be the best mentor he possibly could.
'Sorry Chaff, I was out of order. You'll do great as always' He smiles and then arranges his face into an expressionless mask as we near the train; Ha, I think I know what approach we're going for: Good cop, bad cop and Chaff always likes to be Bad cop, but he's pretty good at it. I link my arm through his and we're off to meet our tributes and hopefully bring one of them back home.
Celeste Potrola, District 11.
My brother will come back; he promised he would and in all honesty I think he will win: He's the strongest, fastest, smartest and best person I know. He's coming home, no matter what people's pitying looks say; we're going to live in the Victor's Village, we're going to be happy. He'll get to come home, get married and have children of his own like that little Rue girl I saw today.
My brother will come back, he must come back. What would I do without my brother? He does everything for me: he sings me to sleep when I have nightmares, he puts up with my mood swings, he cooks and cleans, he helps me with my homework and he loves me. I'm his sister; effectively his daughter and we're best friends. What would one do without the other? It always has, and always will be Nicholas and Celeste: together forever. He is the one person I can rely on, and right now I'm relying on him to win. To come back, to be my big brother.
It's just so unfair, it's so wrong. I'm 11 years old and even I can see that things need to change; but first I just want my brother back home, safe and sound.
Whooo...Long chapter, written in one night! Now, remember to review and such...and to submit some tributes for my upcoming elaboration; I need to know where you'd like me to go? To District 10? 5? 2? or 12? Cause I have to write the whole reapings for 8 and 9 so they'll have to wait. I plan to upload another chapter soon since I'm not at Uni the rest of this week!
Oh so now food for thought time:
What is Clorisa's disease?
Oh and don't worry about missing the strategy, Clo's family or the goodbyes...They'll pop up later in the story!
Muchos love readers, Now... REVIEW!