Cylinder, District 8

It is funny how everyone is a hypocrite. They say they don't judge a book by its cover. They do. I am the prime example.

People might describe me as a fine young man, but how wrong they are.

When I showed up to the Fairly Tales Theatre ten years ago, people loved me. I was this small kid who had a talent with music and was a natural actor. I introduced myself, but people forgot my name quickly. Now I am referred as Cylinder, because of how I look.

I always wear formal clothing. Dress shoes, dark purple hued trousers, a white or black long sleeved shirt with a light grey vest and a same dark purple coloured over coat. I also sport a dark purple cylinder with a horizontal black line at the base, and a cane. That is why I got the nickname of Cylinder, because of my top hat.

And also because of my lovely posh accent.

Everyone trusts me, thinks of me as a good person. Let them think that.

Now I'm the writer of plays here, do the music, and occasionally give concerts.

I play the piano and the violin, both that are made to mesmerize the listeners and transport them into a whole other world.

People who dislike me think of me as a pest or a Mary-Sue. That is quite laughable. First of all, a Mary-Sue is a novel character who is too good to be true. Well, I am alive and kicking. Also, a Mary-Sue has no flaws, but I do have my flaws. I am allergic to lactose, I have poor blood circulation, and I am hydrophobic. I am extremely afraid of water, any kind of water.

Every bath or shower is a torture to me.

It also seems like some animals dislike my presence.

We are performing one of our best plays, titled Pirate Sonata.

It is about a boy who gets kidnapped by pirates. He is forced to work or to the plank, so he chooses to live. He works without a word, learning the pirate way of life, until one day, the captain has a loud conversation with one his workers. As it turns out, the man he is arguing with is the brother of the kidnapped boy. Both of them get sent away to a lonely island to die. They meet with the local people, trying to work out a way of talking, trying to leave the island.

It has four songs, one when the boy is kidnapped, one on the pirate ship and two on the island.

People love it. I see some of them at every play we do. Maybe it is the story, or the actors. We are a happy bunch.

Just like a large family. Everyone knows everyone, or so they think.

Everyone likes me, except one, Adam. He is actually a kind person, and kind to me, but he thinks I am in a secret organization trying to take over the world or something. He has some conspiracy theories and all about me and my life, but he cannot prove it.

I like him though, he is a good man, clean of any of drugs and drinks, and he lives the perfect life. He always helps me move stuff around, he is just an all around good person.

Though I do say that there is no good story without a conspiracy theory, and so is life.

I walk the streets of the town, taking pictures of major buildings, taking notes of various items, asking people some random questions. You know, the usual. A lot of time I'm around the Justice Building, taking pictures from different views and angles, noting the people around, some potential routes to leave quickly and all that.

Someone taps my shoulder.

It's Adam, not surprisingly.

"What can I help you with young man?"

"I saw you taking pictures Cylinder," he says seriously.

"And I saw you drinking coke yesterday morning at nine thirty," I answer just as seriously, but then smiling. "I'm just taking pictures, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing really, if it is one. You are taking at least a dozen pictures of the Justice Building, scribbling notes in your little book. I don't what you are planning, but I keep an eye on you."

I show him my notebook. "This one?"

"Yes."

"Then read it if you want to," I give him my little notebook. He was quite surprised. I can almost hear him say 'This was easier than I thought…'

"Uhm, 'kay…" he reads my notebook, a bit dumbfounded with the truth. "I'm sorry," he says and gives the notebook back. "I didn't know you were also drawing as a hobby. I guess I just was a bit…wrong about you?" He says shrugging. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Everyone thinks of me as a criminal mastermind trying to take over the world. It's my looks."

"Can I see your picture some day?"

"Sure, of course."

Adam's a twenty two years old young man with dark gold wavy hair, dark blue eyes, a muscular build, and a way of appearing in a pleasant manner. He is the one monitoring the equipment we have in the theatre.

Now that my research about the Justice Building is complete, I can go and do the plans of planting the bomb in there.

Adam is half right about me being in a secret organization trying to take over the world.

I'm in the DC, Down with the Capitol. It is an organization inspired by the failed uprising of Miss Everdeen. We want to throw over the Capitol and everything with it; starting with the destruction of important buildings, high ways, and other major places in each District.

This way the Districts will be isolated, and individual DC forces will be able to take over control.

After that, we go against the Capitol.

You might think that we have no chance, that the plan has a lot of holes in it, but please, you do not know how many people we have all over Panem.

Esilka Majorka, District 8

I love when people complain about their life. Oh my parents are shouting, oh my goldfish died, oh I am grounded for a week, oh my parents are divorcing.

They act like the world is about to collapse.

As if they know what the world has for them. The kinds of pain and suffer, horror and fear, the nervousness until you are sick.

Because they don't.

They don't know what it feels like to have a mother work from dusk to dawn. They do not know what if feels like growing up without a father, and with a mother you barely see. They don't know how it feels not to eat for days.

They know nothing.

And today, when it happened, they are even worse. Being assholes and jerks, no wonder I did that.

This is what happened.

My mother is working twenty-four seven, without an end, just so we could live from day to day. When you are poor in District 8, you are poor forever. No matter what you do.

Mom didn't allow me to work, even though I was doing nothing all day, because we couldn't afford school, but still, I managed to work around it.

I was going to school, working there, studying there, then after school I had another job.

Since I was working too, we were noticeable better. A bit more and better food, maybe an extra set of socks and shoes, maybe a nice shirt or something. I was also making my own clothes so mom didn't need to buy those for me.

I was working in a nice little factory, making clothing for shops all over Panem.

So yesterday night, or today morning, which ever tickles your peaches, I was coming back from work, with a really pretty dress I bought for my mom. It was peach coloured, stopping right under your knees, with white symbols. It was worth the money since it was my mom's birthday.

I got him, and what greeted me? A pool of red blood.

Signs of suicide everywhere. Pills, ropes, bloody knives… and my dead mother.

She couldn't take it anymore, no more pain, no more suffer, so she cut her veins up.

First she tried to take pills and sleep forever, but she has a natural defense against the. Then she tried to choke herself, she was too weak and scared of death. Finally, she just cut herself up.

On her birthday.

When I bought a nice dress for her.

If that's not good enough for me, I tell you about my family.

We were a normal family, not too rich, but not poor. A mother, a father and three kids.

My biological father went mad when his sister got reaped, and killed my younger sister and shot himself dead. Years of depressing. Then came a man my mom trusted. Turns out he only used us and got away with all our money. My older died of malnutrition.

We were such a pretty family, but then 'love' destroyed it all.

Mother was so beautiful. Long brown hair and brown eyes, smooth skin, always smiling. Now she was a wreck of her old self.

I too, was much prettier then down. I had light brown hair and dark green eyes. I looked like my father too, sadly.

Now, now I am a ghost. Pale skin, dark circles around my eyes, I'm so skinny I am nothing more than skin and bone, my hair is starting to fall out.

As if we weren't bad enough.

Now my mother is dead.

I couldn't afford a regular funeral for her, I'm lucky I could strike a deal to have her body incinerated as she always wanted

I decided to skip school and go to work instead. When my mind is clouded, I just work. In work, I just become a mindless puppet, doing the work, not thinking at all.

"Hey Silky, I heard your momma's dead," Zickfred, that ass taunts me.

"Yes, yes she did. She committed suicide on her birthday," I answer coldly.

"Bet you are sad, what, you will suicide too?"

I grab a pair of scissors and smash it in his hand.

"Nah, I am more like the murderer type. Make a sound and you are dead."

He just runs away, biting his mouth not to make a sound.

Zickfred knows better than to mess with me now.

The one person that looks at me normally, Ian comes around.

"I heard what happened," he says quietly and hugs me. "I'm sorry."

That won't give her back, but at least you are the only one with a heart around here.

"Thank you."

Ian is already living his life as a grown-up, with his beautiful girlfriend Elena.

He is the only one with a heart around here. He cared about me from the beginning, helping me with work, protecting me when I needed to be protected, and all that. And now he sits with me, and works with me. We talk, he tears up, we smile. He is a very nice person to have around.

I make sure to give him and Elena something when I'll have the money, as a sign of thanks.

"Uhm, if you want to, you know, you can live with us," he offers.

I smile at him. "Thank you, I gladly accept."

Cylinder

Well now, there are a lot of people on the Square. A little bit too much. As in, not only teens are here but parents too. That is rather…weird. Peacekeepers should do something about it, it makes me feel uncomfortable.

Our District Escort, Melanie, dressed in white silk comes on the stage.

She was a beautiful lady…once. Now she is an old waste of skin, thinking she is young. At least she wears something that covers her from head to toe. Last year she showed a bit too much.

I think it is funny how I am the only eighteen years old from our theatre. Everyone is older, some way older than me.

And here I am with my top hat and cane, waiting until this ends.

"Welcome, welcome all of you," she says with her accent. "It is once again time to choose a courageous young man and woman to represent District 8 in the Hunger Games."

I get distracted with my friend, Kameleon, a…friend of mine from DC.

He isn't really a friend, more like a companion. Scratch that, he is an annoying leech with bonuses. He is fifteen or so, and he moves like a snake. No one hears him, no one sees him, only after he strikes.

Because of him, the next thing I notice is my name being called.

"William Taylor is your name?" Kameleon asks cheekily.

Esilka Majorka

There aren't many things I can do. Work work work and more work. I cannot allow myself to think about anything but work. I have used almost all of our, I mean, my money for her incineration, so I have to work extra hard to get back the money. I even told the boss that I will work after hours too, of course, for more money.

I owe Ian much. Since he couldn't convince me to take a day off, he said he will stay with me. He doesn't need to go to Reapings, but I do. Screw that, and the Capitol. I'm staying here and working.

Too bad that some time after, those Peacekeepers came, and with not-so kind words, dragged me to the Reapings, where, no so surprisingly, my name was reaped.

To tell the truth, I felt this happening. No normal person would have a life like this.

William Taylor

No need to tell, everyone from the Theatre came and had their goodbies.

Emrbisia, the lady who makes dresses. Boony, the cheerful girl with the make-up. Kassa, she was the one with the money matters. Clyde, our little bag of endless creative. Even Kiki, the girl with the monkey came and gave their goodbyes to me.

The last one from the Theatre is Adam.

"Look, I am very sorry that all this time we knew each other I thought that you were some kind of evil person. I just…have a hard time trusting people like you." I cock an eyebrow. "Not like that, just…people with top hats and canes. And now you are sent into the Games, and…well, you'll have choices to make. One of them will be to save me or leave me dying."

What is he talking about again?

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You'll have the whole Theatre to worry about, since we will be sent in the Arena to you. So…you know…it won't be easy to save everyone, and since I was always hateful towards you, you can-"

"I will not not try to save you," I cut into him. "You are basically telling me to let you die when you have a family and friends you'll be missed. The answer is simply no."

"But…"

"Your argument is invalid, and I do not want to continue this conversation on this topic."

Our conversation after this was about the Games and all the knick-knack in it.

Last person to come in was Kameleon, and he only said one thing, with a wry smile.

"We are in."