LOVE YOU GUYS! THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!:D Yeah, that's right, 22 frickin' reviews on the first (real) chapter, and let's admit, it's a boring chapter. asdfkajs. SO YEAH, I LOVE YOU! :D
I'm sorry ya'll but I don't do train rides. I'll have the Parade, Training Days 1 and 2, Private Sessions, Interviews and Bloodbath Countdown/ Arrival. LAST REAPING CHAPTER! WHOOP! :D
This is one of my favorite songs, I changed it to this at the last minute. Please listen to it! It's called "Dear Mr. President" by P!NK. Originally it was about George W. Bush, but I think it suits this story well. Republicans or people who liked him, please don't be offended. This is a beautiful song…
Dear Mr. President,
Come take a walk with me.
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me.
…
District Seven The Restless and The Noble
"Ayla! Where are you going?" Mrs. Forester asks her daughter. Alya Forester looks at her mother with one foot out of the door and the other planted in the house.
"Just going to see Bonsai!" Ayla says exasperated. Her mother's been extra protective recently. Maybe it's because she's getting to the age her mother was when she made mistakes. But seriously, Ayla isn't going to get knocked up at eight in the morning.
"Fine. But you better get back here soon! You need to get ready for the reaping," Ayla nods before closing the door behind her.
The cold morning air nips at Ayla's face. Her small button nose turns red before she's even made it three feet from her house. Although frigid, the air is refreshing.
Dew drops from the grass dot Ayla's shoes. The grass is surprisingly green this year. Normally it becomes crinkly and yellow.
When Ayla meets the chain link fence that guards the woods, she stops and sits down in the grass. Ayla makes sure no one watches her, but like always, the clearing is empty. So, she sits. Waiting for any motion, any sign from the woods. But nothing comes for ten minutes. Twenty. Finally, after thirty minutes of staring into the mysterious woods, draped with darkness, a red figure crawls towards the fence.
"Hey Bonsai," Ayla whispers to the fox. She's sure it's Bonsai; after all, he's the only one that comes to the fence. Her mother used to tell her that before the Dark Days there was no fence. Animals like foxes were commonly seen scurrying across people's yards or rummaging through trashcans to get something to eat.
Ayla carefully sticks her fingers through a hole in the fence. She pets Bonsai between his ears. He closes his eyes. Ayla likes to act like he's smiling.
"Here, I brought you some food," She remembers, digging through her back pocket for a piece of meat. So maybe Bonsai comes for the food, but maybe not. Maybe he just really loves Ayla. Or maybe, like Ayla, he enjoys the company.
After feeding the fox, Ayla sprints back to her house, knowing she should have been back long ago. Her mother's stern face when she enters the room tells her that Mrs. Forester was waiting for her.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Barkson Thrine drives his axe into a tall oak tree. The chorus of cracks and heaves and falling trees rings in his ears. There is no rest here. Only work, even on reaping day.
His parents would rather have him training, though. They are afraid of Barkson getting reaped and want him to be prepared, but Barkson refuses. This year, his name is only in the reaping bowl 5 times. If he did training he'd have to quit his job to make time, meaning that he might have to take the tesserae which would earn him an even better chance at getting reaped.
Isn't it ironic? He can either work all his life with a slim chance of going into the Hunger Games, which would be hard for him since he hasn't trained; or he can quit his job with a good chance of going into the Hunger games, which wouldn't be as hard since he did train.
If only there was some happy medium; a way to escape the cycle that imprisons the Districts living in poverty.
"Barkson! Get to work!" Mr. Grover, the axing company's owner snaps Barkson out of his trance.
"Yes, sir!" Barkson nods and continues with his work. He can remember when the large axe was heavy in his hands. The wooden handle was slippery with his sweat. The trees looked much taller, they were earthly giants. But now they are stripped of their limbs- the branches that would sway in the hollow wind. Now there are only stumps where the giants once stood. Now the forest has shrunk in size, but rationed to all the wood supplies in District Seven, it isn't much. There are enough trees now to last for hundreds of years.
Barkson's chops fall in time with the other workers around him.
"Hello District Seven!" Walter Ronan, an escort, says a good hour later. Walter is unlike most escorts. He's quiet. So, without further ado, he turns on the Dark Days clip. Most of the citizens turn away or close their eyes. A few others watch in awe mixed with shear horror. Mothers cover their children's eyes. Finally, it's over.
"Girls," says Walter laconically. He picks a slip of paper out of the reaping bowl like it is a delicate flower and announces,
"AYLA FORESTER!" A small figured girl looks like a ghost. Her skin pales and her eyes grow. She looks trapped in her body, like she wants to move but cannot. She begins to walk to the stage rigidly. None of this is yet real to her.
"BARKSON THRINE!" Walter calls again. Ayla hasn't even gotten to the stage.
A sixteen year-old stands in shock. The mathematical odds weren't in his favor! There was practically no chance of him getting reaped! Yet he was.
Barkson doesn't move for a whole minute. The people next to him are starting to stare. Barkson finally musters up his courage and begins the trek to the stage, looming before him.
District Eight The Rebel and The Optimistic
Bobbin Garment drums her fingers on her knee, hidden underneath the table. She sits in a matching oak chair across from her grandmother.
"My sweet, sweet Bobbin!" She clasps Bobbin's hands in her own. Bobbin can see the tears hidden behind her crystal blue eyes. She hasn't seen her grandmother this since the rebellion; so antsy. But it's understandable.
"I'm going to miss you, but father can take care of you," Bobbin reminds her. Grandmother's husband passed in the rebellion along with Bobbin's mother. They were victims of a surprise bombing in the first half of the war. The Garment family were die-hard rebels, fighting the Capital; that was until the bombings of course. After that Grandma and father decided to remain neutral. But not Bobbin. She won't let the Capital stomp over her.
"Until you get back," she pushes. Bobbin nods. "Okay dear, I didn't bring you here to distract you from your important day, I wanted to give you something." Grandmother lets go of Bobbin's hands and reaches inside her bag. She fishes out a shiny gold object and holds it out to her granddaughter. "It was your grandfather's."
Bobbin doesn't need an explanation. She picks up the golden pocket watch and inspects it carefully. Bobbin's hand trembles. The time is frozen. The exact moment the bombs rained down and changed her life. Bobbin can barely say a 'thank-you' before she's whisked off again.
Bobbin's next stop is Daisy Stitch's house. Sweet perfume flows out of Daisy's room like a river.
"Hi! Bobbin! I have the perfect dress for you," Daisy grins. She volunteered to find Bobbin a dress for the reaping, for a very important reason. Bobbin is going to be reaped. The Insorgo-Insurgi-Insurrectum has practically guaranteed it. The Insurgi is a secret rebel society in the bowels of District Eight. It formed shortly after the rebellion. The group has trained Bobbin in their own academy and readied her for the Games. There was supposed to be another boy with her, Matt. But only months ago there was a slip. A peacekeeper found out that Matt would volunteer next year and lead the rebels once again, so he went to the mayor who made the call to kill the boy. Matt was attacked by a swarm of tracker jackers, "a tragic accident." But the Insurgi were not fazed. Bobbin wasn't exposed, so she would continue, although the Insurgi needed to be careful. So instead of volunteering, Bobbin will hopefully be reaped. She took 145 tesserae this year to practically guarantee it.
"Thanks," Bobbin mumbles, the dress was not her idea. To her, a tee shirt and pair of shorts would work just fine, but the Insurgi wants an image, for Bobbin to stand out.
"No problem," Daisy hands Bobbin the crimson red piece of clothing. It's sleeveless and falls below her knees.
Bobbin breathes in the sickly sweet perfume before heading out the door and going to the reaping.
Thorn Cotton, located in a small but cozy house on top of a hill, taps his fingers against his window. The drumming rain against his rooftop echoes his fingers. The green walls seem sickening to Thorn, although normally the soft color comforts him. But today it's too much. The slightest thing overwhelms Thorn. Behind him, the light wooden floors groan.
"Hi Thorn," Mrs. Cotton rest a hand on Thorn's shoulder. Thorn turns his head to look at his mother. Her dirty blond hair and hazel eyes match his own.
"Hi mom," Thorn regrets the sadness in his voice.
"How are you? I know today's a big day for you," She moves her hand to Thorn's head and ruffles his hair.
"I'm okay!" He tries to perk up. The reaping isn't that bad. At least baby Dannie is safe. But either way someone will be reaped. Someone's family will have to learn to adapt without them shortly after having their loved one ripped from their arms. Someone won't come home today. Someone will be broadcasted, watched, observed by the Capital for entertainment. The thought brings a foul taste to Thorn's mouth. None of this is fair. But Thorn's been careful not to take his anger out on his family. It isn't their fault. Nor is it anyone's fault in the District.
"Good. But promise me you won't worry, Thorn. There's nothing you can do, and worrying won't help anyone," Mrs. Cotton tells her son firmly. Thorn nods absentmindedly.
"You're right. There's nothing I can do,"
An all-too-short hour later and the reaping has commenced. Thorn Cotton, afraid of a fate unknown, and Bobbin Garment, ready for her destiny to unfold, stand at different ends in the mob of District Eight citizens.
"My friends of District Eight, I present to you the moment of truth!" Elanora Locket smiles into the crowd of melancholy. The Dark Days video has already flashed across the screen. There's no point to the video- everyone knows why the Hunger Games take place. The memories that are scarred into their brains are worse than the video.
"Ladies first!" Elanora sticks her hand into the reaping bowl. She taunts the crowd, taking her time. Bobbin stands alert, her hands fidget in her pockets. It has to be her…
"BOBBIN GARMENT!" Elanora blares.
The girl reaped has an expression of triumph on her face. But soon it disappears, before anyone can register it or contemplate the meaning. Bobbin puts a hand over her mouth and gawks. Luckily the Insurgi taught her how to play the part of a scared little girl.
"Now for the boys…" Elanora digs out another name from the reaping bowl.
"THORN COTTON!"
A fourteen year-old boy freezes. This isn't happening. He'll pinch himself and wake up in his bed with Dannie lying beside him. The boy squeezes his eyes shut, the only movement his body will allow. There isn't enough air in his lungs to render a scream. There's nothing to do but stand in utter shock.
It doesn't take long for the peacekeepers to haul the skinny boy onto the stage. When his feet touch the concrete underneath him, Thorn snaps out of it. Subconsciously, his feet lift from the stage. At first he thinks he's flying, soaring to safety. But moments later his feet slam onto the ground. Not flying, running. That's what he's doing.
A chorus of feet slapping the concrete echoes behind him. The peacekeepers aren't far off. He can feel them breathing down his neck. Thorn panics and changes direction, steering to his left, towards the crowd attending the reaping. Maybe he can hide.
But before Thorn makes it to the crowd a jolt of electricity pulses through his veins. A hollow scream fills his ears. Now I'm falling. He tells himself as he tumbles to the ground. His cheek slaps the asphalt hard. Tiny pieces of gravel attach to his skin. His body fidgets like it's controlled by an outer source. Like a puppet.
The peacekeepers lift the unconscious boy into their arms, ready to haul him off the train. Looks like Thorn won't get any last goodbyes.
District 9 The Double and The Silent
Daphne Cornwall, who sometimes goes by Magenta, stands in her kitchen and examines her long chestnut colored hair. She sighs, picking out a lock of hair with purple dye still coated over it. Daphne rushes to the nearby sink and washes it out.
"Stupid Magenta," she mumbles a curse under her breath. Magenta is Daphne's alternate personality. It's hard to imagine that Magenta, a wild child, could change so quickly to a persnickety girl with an uptight attitude.
Daphne is greeted by her sister, Naya. With just a glance Naya can tell which personality her sibling is. Magenta always has a sparkle in her eyes that Daphne seems to lack while her head is high in the sky.
"Hello Daphne, how are you?"
"Fine," Daphne sticks up her nose. Her sister isn't what she used to be. Daphne can remember when she was kind, a rule follower. But she's changed completely over the past few years, becoming more and more rebellious. Daphne can hardly associate with her anymore. What if someone judged her for being related to anyone less than perfect? Her friends have graciously forgiven her multiple personality disorder, but would they be so generous if Naya went completely rouge? The thought sends icy chills running through Daphne's body.
"Are you ready for the reaping?" Naya's voice hints at irritation, but she's remained strong for her sister.
"Do I look ready? I haven't even brushed my teeth yet!" Daphne cries
"Alright, alright!" Naya throws her hands up.
Daphne sighs, maybe she should try to be nicer to her. She's really the only family she can bond with. Her mother won't even admit that her daughter has a disorder and will only ever refer to her as 'Daphne.' Not that Daphne should really mind. And for her father- he died when she was six. That's what started this whole thing. Normally children the develop multiple personality disorder from especially traumatic events. Most of the time it wouldn't result from only parent's death. But before that Daphne's life had been so sheltered that she wasn't prepared for any type of loss, whether it was her pet goldfish or her father.
Farther along in the District, closer to the town square, a tall boy leans against his sister's bedroom wall. Xander Bells cracks a smile.
"Promise me that you'll wait for me after the reaping. I'll want to talk to you, okay?" He asks his sister.
"Sure! I'm kind of nervous, Xander," Cassie raises her eyebrows. Cassie's practically blind. She can see blurry objects and colors, but nothing more. Recently the family has been given the news that there is nothing that can be done. Before that Cassie had been assured that if she wore glasses for a few years she would maintain some of her sight once more. But nothing worked. The glasses got her picked on, not for long though. A boy a year older than Xander was used to shove her over and taunt her. But Cassie's big brother would allow it. The bully had an "accident" a few days later with a well-earned bloody nose.
Not that Cassie found out about Xander's involvement. Xander wanted and still wants his sister to see him as a gentle giant.
"You'll be fine. 12 year-olds are never reaped! And if by some off-chance you are, I'll make sure someone takes your place," Xander crouches next to Cassie and strokes her shoulder.
"What if you're reaped?"
"Then I'll just have to fight extra hard to come home. But don't worry, I won't leave you,"
Ten minutes later and the reaping has begun. Aphrodite Melon has already played the gruesome footage from the Dark Days, and now she's tapping her heel obnoxiously while her hand plucks a name from the reaping bowl.
"DAPHNE CORNWALL!" A fifteen year-old girl's scream pierces the air like a dagger. She feels her limbs turn to jelly, her body boneless. The girl crumples onto the floor. White-suited peacekeepers swarm her and lift her to her feet. One carries her onto the stage and plops her down next to the escort.
Aphrodite's nose twitches with disgust. She fishes out another name from the bowl and reads it.
"XANDER BELLS!" A dark haired boy gathers himself easily and walks towards the stage with a grace. His blue eyes remain staring ahead of him.
He knows doing anything like the girl before him did would certainly be considered a weakness.
District Ten The Blind and The Father
Vesper Wednesday sits in her room. It's like any other day. She's not alone, but in a way she is. Her family is always kind to her. They make Vesper feel needed and loved. But they don't always understand her, no matter how hard they try. They don't know what it's like to be blind.
Six years ago, when Vesper was seven, the world went dark. Vesper's sight gradually diminished until she saw nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Wednesday tried everything they could to keep Vesper from going blind. They sold the ranch, worked extra and did everything, but it was too expensive to put money into something that may not even work! Vesper hates thinking about their sacrifices, it makes her feel guilty. Even Raven, fourteen at the time, signed up for a job- a horrible one.
But nothing came out of it. That's what hits Vesper hardest. Her family gave it all up for nothing. Nothing.
Vesper shakes her head in an attempt to clear her brain.
"Vezzy?" Vesper recognizes the voice- Violet, her twin sister. They have another twin, Alistair, so technically they're triplets.
"Hey Vi!" Vesper perks up.
"Hey! Just letting you know, the reaping is in ten minutes, you might want to start getting ready! Mom says she picked an outfit for you to wear- it's on your bed,"
Vesper nods, "Okay, thanks! I'll meet you downstairs when I'm ready,"
In a townhouse across from the square where the reaping is held each year, Atticus Fletcher holds his fiancé's hands. The ring wrapped around one finger brings back memories, as sweet as sugar. Sandra Stevens smiles at Atticus. Her perfectly pearly white teeth seem to shine.
To Atticus, Sandra is everything. Her blond locks of hair frame her face- pretty as a picture. Her cherry red lips are always pulled into a smile. Sandra's brown eyes are deep with emotion, something Atticus likes best about her.
"I promise, Sandra, you'll be alright. No one would let you go into those Games!" Atticus tells her. His voice is calm but firm. No one would let Sandra into the Games, at least Atticus likes to think, because she's pregnant with her and Atticus's first child. Their wedding date is set a few weeks after the baby should be due.
"Are you sure?" She asks, blinking her eyes.
"Yes. I'm positive,"
They've had the same talk for the past four years. Each time Atticus has to reassure Sandra that she'll be fine.
"Okay. But what if something happens to you, Atticus? What would I do then?"
Atticus gives a nervous laugh. "Sandra, I promise I won't let anything happen to us,"
"But what if you're reaped?" She persists.
"Then I guess we'll get a new house somewhere in the Victor's Village. Come on Sandra, have some faith,"
Nero Houth stands on stage. His hands hover above the reaping bowls. Nero's crystal blue eyes dart around the crowd nervously. His nose twitches. The Dark Days video has already played.
"Let's do them both at the same time, shall we?!" Nero's quick voice quivers. He doesn't wait for a response. Nero digs into each bowl and picks a slip in each hand.
"VESPER WEDNESDAY!" A small girl shrieks. The arena won't make a good home for a blind girl. Slowly, the girl regains herself and walks to the stage on nervous feet. Just as her foot touches, Nero reads the next name.
"ATTICUS FLETCHER!" Before the boy can even process, a girl screams.
"ATTICUS!" She calls, and tries to reach for her fiancé. A group of peacekeepers step in, pushing the girl back to be eaten up by the crowd.
"Sandra!" The boy's attempt is half-hearted. He knows he can't do anything now, he's trapped. So, Atticus Fletcher walks to the stage with a tear in his eye.
The father and the blind are forced to grab hands and raise them to the sky.
District Eleven The Benevolent and The Hopeful
In District Eleven, things are far from perfect. Peacekeepers aren't afraid, or even hesitant, to shoot young children if they aren't doing exactly what they are told. Work in the orchards is tiring with the hot sun beating down day after day. The water offers no sanctuary- it is often infested or dirty.
Why then, does Robin Cade have a grin on her face? Her white teeth gleam in contrast from her velvety dark skin. She sits perched on an apple tree, sitting on one of the durable branches. The tree's bright green leaves shield her from the eyes of the peacekeepers who watch over the orchard.
Robin hums a chirpy song in her head. Today's the day for change. The day her life could be altered forever. Who knew two little words could do so much? Volunteering would never have been in Robin's thoughts until a few weeks ago.
The Cade family gathered around their humble home. Robin looked at each of their faces, hopeful but also there was pity. Her siblings Wren, Jay and the twins- Palila and Merle looked down at the ground, none of them wanted to look into her eyes. Robin and her mother had been to the doctor that day. Now they were returning with the news.
Robin couldn't bear to look at their faces anymore. She looked at her mother in desperation- tell them! Mrs. Cade nodded as if she heard Robin's thoughts and stepped into the center of the room and cleared her throat. The family turned to look at her expectantly.
"She can't be treated. We don't have enough money," Her voice was low, pathetic like the awful 'puke-green' drapes across the living room windows.
"It's okay though! I mean, at least I know it's coming and I can spend my last days with you instead of poor Mark Walter who died in his sleep," Robin smiled.
And now she's found another escape. Becoming a victor would save her life in so many ways; but what Robin doesn't realize is it could also be the death of her eternal optimism.
Keegan Hale sits on the wooden porch on the front of his house. Somewhere in the distance his brother, Parish holds his cupped hand out. He's waiting for the animals to come, as they always do. Keegan taps his foot nervously. He or his brother could be reaped today! How does Parish not notice the anxiety in the air?
Mr. Hale made Keegan and Parish take tesserae even though they don't need it. Keegan scornfully clenches his fists, but keeps the rest of his anger inside him. How could his father admire the Capital? It doesn't seem possible to Keegan. Luckily though, both Keegan and Parish disagree with their father.
But he's so oblivious! He sees only the good- the luxuries, the interviews, the victor; but turns the other cheek for the Hunger Games themselves. To Keegan, no matter how the Capital skirts around the idea of killing children there will always be bloodshed and terrible loss.
Keegan's eyes turn to Parish. Now three squirrels slowly approach him, ready to scatter if he makes any sudden movements. The electrical fence is never on anymore. Maybe because the Capital stopped caring about District Eleven a long time ago. Or maybe they know that no one would dare escape to the dark forest, crawling with terrible creatures. Or perhaps the Capital secretly wants them to die trying to escape. Either seems a reasonable option to Keegan.
With a jolt, Mrs. Hale opens the door.
"Time to get ready, boys!" She calls, mostly to Parish. Mrs. Hale's smile is hollow. Somewhere inside her she disagrees with her husband, but she's never shown it.
Missy Alrose pompously struts to the reaping bowls. She's already shown the video from the Dark Days to the undeserving peasants. If it was up to her she'd send them all to the slaughterhouse. And there would be no victor. She doesn't like winners for reasons she won't explain. That's why she escorts District Eleven, because here there are no winners.
"Ladies first," She says in her thick accent. Missy greedily takes a slip from the bowl and unfurls it.
"MAYA WINTERS!"
Without a moment's hesitation, a voice calls, "I VOLUNTEER!"
Missy looks taken aback as a small girl meets her. "I'm Robin Cade," she says into the microphone.
Missy figures there's something off about her. The other volunteers, the ones from the higher Districts have a look in their eyes- pride, confidence, strength. But this girl looks different. She smiles, but her eyes are sad, like volunteering is her only chance. But why?
Missy shakes her head, that's enough thinking for one day. She reaches into the reaping bowl and grabs another name.
"KEEGAN HALE!" A taller boy shakes his head. Other than that however, he is calm. The boy puts up a façade of peace, but inside him something lurks- anger. Because in the front row his father is smiling. Smiling. His son is getting reaped for the Hunger Games and he smiles. Keegan clenches his fists, but keeps up with his mask.
"The tributes of District Eleven!" Missy says sadly, because this year the District may have a winner.
District Twelve The Candid and The Broken
A girl's long legs push off the narrow concrete path. It's old and crumbling, but good enough for Four Malfoy. The frigid wind pushes her strawberry blond hair from her face. Four runs through the District daily, but now she runs to keep her mind off of the reaping. Running is her escape route. There's nothing better than the feeling- freedom. In a District so dreary, it's hard to find.
Four runs by the mines. Rickety elevators are bringing the miners, covered in soot, to the surface so they can meet with their family before the reaping. That means her father will be home soon.
Four continues to push herself. Today she wants to run for longer than usual. Normally after running for this long she gets a cramp, or her legs feel boneless like jelly. But not now. Today is the day she goes farther. And every time she's tempted to stop faces flash across her vision. They taunt her, tell her that she isn't good enough for them, that she isn't smart enough for school. Four shakes her head. She'll prove them wrong.
So she keeps running.
Mrs. and Mr. Houston hold hands with their two sons. The rebellion is over, the Capital has not fallen. The family stands in front of two primly dressed men, each in a black suit. Seven year-old William and his three year-old brother stand with their parents. Each has a heavy chain tied around their left leg that attaches to the floor.
Will knows that his family is in trouble. He can see it in his mother's eyes. Feel the cold metal against his ankle. Hear his parent's hushed and frantic whispers. He remembers when the Capital hauled them in as prisoners of war.
When the man to the left speaks, his voice is smooth, "You have defied the Capital in many ways. Therefore you will be punished," He looks directly at Will's parents. "Killing the Houston family would be too easy, too quick. The President himself has come up with a far greater punishment. As you know, in the Hunger Games two children will be reaped per District, a boy and a girl. The reaping is random, the tributes selected from a bowl. But, for these special circumstances, we will rig the reaping. One reaping day a Houston child will be picked."
William Houston's eyes snap open. His heart pounds underneath his pajamas. He has haunting nightmares often, but this… this wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory.
An hour later Marika Forthan is on the reaping stage. She has her nose turned upwards. If only she could escort District Four again. Anything other than this would be okay. She wonders how these people can live such hollow lives. It seems all they do is work! And after all that working they still complain about not getting enough food. She cringes- some people are so spoiled!
After showing the District a clip from the Dark Days, Marika stands in from of the reaping bowl, with her glossy pink her heel clicking.
"As you know, ladies first!" She chirps and pulls out a name from the reaping bowl.
"FOUR MALFOY!" The world stops. The sixteen year-old squeezes her eyes shut. This is a test. Just another test to power through, to show herself that she's strong. Four staggers onto the stage with a hard expression over her face. She looks away awkwardly, not wanting to see anyone in the crowd.
"Now for the gentlemen!" Marika cheers.
"WILLAIM HOUSTON!" A boy the same age as Four blinks twice. He isn't surprised. Of course, he was told that he or one of his two other siblings would be reaped.
He's just glad that it's him.
Dear Mr. President,
Come take a walk with me.
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me.
Sorry District 12 is bad... *tear*
Remember, I left things out on purpose! (Mostly for Bobbin, Thorn, Daphne, Valentina, Robin, Jules, Atticus, Four, William , and Lero) That's because this is a story about your characters, not a summary where I reveal everything at once:). The interviews will give a bit away, same with training and talking to allies, and first person POVs. :D Can't wait!
ERMAGERD! CAPITAL'S NEXT! WHOO! I can't even explain the relief I'm feeling… other than 'askdjf sdfasdfhasd' :D I promise that now there will be faster (way faster) updates and sadly slightly shorter chapters with better quality. I mean, I could make them have longer chapters, but that would take a while. I promise to make each more than 2 thousand words though. I will never go below that, and I'm really trying to work on description, *cough cough* Kat *cough* ;) Also, I know there are lots of fragments in my writing, but they are on purpose for effect. Big girl writers do it all the time :D (wow, I'm weird…)
By the way, I changed the cover image. Do you like this one? Or should I change it back?
Sponsor Points (2) (remember if you want to give your points to someone else, say so ): Top five tributes for THIS reaping and top five OVERALL. There's a tribute list at the bottom for reference. Thanks;) I'm adding up all them points. ;) And don't forget the prompt, 'Frozen in Time' I've gotten some wonderful ones so far!
More Sponsor Points (1)- Tell me ONE tribute you'd like to ally with- think personality, age, skills, District, etc. (Districts 1, 2, and 4 are Careers. No exceptions, I'm sorry). Also I probably won't be able to give you the ally you pick, but I will try!
Anything else you want to tell me like favorite quote/ predictions etc. I'd love to hear it! Also tell me which Capital chapter (parade, training 1 and 2, private sessions, interview or bloodbath countdown) you'd prefer your character to have! (Unfortunately, you may not get your choice…) And does anyone know any good synonyms for walk. I noticed I kept saying 'she walked on stage' and it was boring! I need to spice it upp!
If you're ever like, "Wow, this girl isn't updating!" Head over to my profile, I have a little spot to tell you when I hope to update, why it took me so long, the latest I will update and what's including in my next chappie! Yep!:)
-OFFICIAL TRIBUTE LIST-
Reaping Part One
1M- Jules Gilded- The Misunderstood
1F- Sprite Winters- The Lithe
2M- Scott Jameson- The Underestimated
2F- Dessiah Martin- The Kind
3M- Nikolai Bendix- The Liar
3F- Valentina Bolt- The Solitary
4M- Caspias Destin- The Brave
4F- Katrina 'Katri' Greene- The Rejected
5M- Shawn 'Shade' Kelly- The Shadow
5F- Shay Cassidy- The Spoiled
6M- Lero Kiva- The Teased
6F- Metric Tenure- The Reckless
Reaping Part Two
7M- Barkson Thrine- The Noble
7F- Ayla Forester- The Restless
8M- Thorn Cotton- The Optimistic
8F- Bobbin Garment- The Rebel
9M- Xander Bells- The Silent
9F- Daphne 'Magenta' Cornwall- The Double
10M- Atticus Fletcher- The Father
10F- Vesper 'Vezzy' Wednesday- The Blind
11M- Keegan Hale- The Hopeful
11F- Robin Cade- The Benevolent
12M- William 'Will' Houston- The Broken
12F- Four Malfoy- The Candid