Author's Note:

So this chapter might not really make sense. Don't worry, it's not supposed to. Let's just say it's from an…interesting… character's point of view. Please give me your thoughts on her! And PLEEEEEEEASE review! I'm so sad, because I don't have ANY reviews! If you read and review my story, I'll read and review yours! PLEASE J

-ArianaWeasly

Lotus's POV

-District 7-

The sunshine broke my dreams. Lying up in bed, I let my eyes wander around my small room. It was purple, my favorite color. I had put some Rumblestrum powder into the paint, to make it glow in the sunlight. It was absolutely splendiferous. I yawned, and melted out of bed, and onto the floor. I grabbed my slippers, and headed out into the hallway.

I stopped, and inhaled deeply. The hallway smelled strong, like pine, and like the color orange. That was probably because it was orange, and it was made out of pine. Giggling to myself, I proceeded into the kitchen. I inhaled deeply again. I had been a lot into smelling lately. The kitchen smelled like yellow; the eggy scent of sulfur, with a pang of lemons. That's funny, the kitchen was blue. Scratching off some of the paint, I noticed some yellow underneath the blue. The blue was probably fake. Those silly Whackers.

The Whackers were the people who had lived in this house before me. I had never known what their real last name was, so I had just always called them the Whackers. That was because they chopped down my tree, when I was 4. In return, they had given me their house. I never knew why, but I lived by myself. I always had. I didn't have parents; I never had. I was from the trees. There were certainly plenty of those around here.

I grabbed an apple, and headed outside. I could tell this apple had been drugged by the Capitol. Before the Reaping, they poisoned most of the food. The poison wouldn't kill us; it was just a drug to keep us calm. They had done that every year before Reaping, ever since the first Uprising. They didn't want another one.

I didn't really care about the drug. It was harmless really, and it just had a weird sour taste, like a too small blueberry. Most people couldn't detect it though. You had to have really delicate senses, like mine, to notice it.

Inhaling deeply, I kicked off my slippers and began to run into the woods. The grass was wet with the early morning dew, and it was tickling my toes. Pausing for a moment, I threw my apple core to a squirrel above me, who caught it and ate the seeds hungrily. I began to run again, running all the way to my tree. Well, my stump now.

Kneeling down, I rested my forehead on it. After about 10 seconds, it recognized me, and spilt open. I walked down inside of it. The smell in here was very dark and strong, like wet soil. It must have watered itself recently. I walked over to my wardrobe. I kept most of my stuff in here still, even though I had a whole house to myself. In my wardrobe, I took out a full length purple chiffon dress. It had spaghetti straps, and floated all the way down to my ankles. I slipped it on, and watched it drift around, lighter than air, as I walked. It was beautiful.

I put on a pair of purple flats to go with it. Almost everything I wore was purple. Purple was the most magical color of all. It had a scent, a taste, a touch, but it was hard to put it with anything. That and the fact that my eyes were purple, an unusual color, made it my favorite color.

I picked up my purple striped pajama bottoms off of the floor, which now had wet stains on the knees. I picked up the white tank top that went with it, and said goodbye to my stump. It shuddered in response. It talked before it had been cut down. I could still remember its voice; gentle and melodic, and very purple.

The dew on the grass was quickly evaporating in the quickly rising sun. It came off in puffs of mist, similar to those you get when you breathe out on a cold winter day.

I couldn't run anymore because I was wearing a dress, so instead I twirled around a bit as I walked, entertaining myself with the wave like movements of the purple fabric. They swirled and danced around, even glimmering in rainbow colors when the sun hit it at a certain angle.

My house came into view through the trees, and I hummed a quiet, reddish tune. Red was the dramatic color, the show off, the violent one, the cunning one. Kind of like the Hunger Games.

Oh right…speaking of the Hunger Games, today was Reaping day. It was a Quarter Quell too, which meant that the Arena would be especially red, both literally and metaphorically. This thought dampened my mood, causing a sadder, grayer tune to escape my lips. My tree had taught it to me when I was little.

Snow is our ruler, the dangerous one

His cunning and finesse are lacking none

He is the one who swallowed the sun

The one who we must fear.

Sunshine cascades over the land

Immediately it is banned

Snow doesn't even extend a hand

It is he who we must fear.

The gray and red are tucked in bed

Snow decides to wake them instead

He really is somebody to dread

The man who we must fear.

I don't know who wrote it, but it was probably written when Snow was "running" for president.

I walked inside my house, and looked myself over in the mirror. My long blonde hair was in its usual wavy state. I decided to throw some Rumblestrum powder over myself, to get that glowing effect. After that, I was ready to go to the Reaping.

"Next," the unfriendly Peacekeepers grunted. You'd think with such a sweet name like Peacekeepers that they would be a little bit nicer.

I held out my hand, and the Peacekeeper jabbed a needle into it. I flinched at the unpleasant red feeling.

"All clear," the Peacekeeper said gruffly.

I snatched my hand away from him and walked away to the front of the stage that was placed in front of the building. I stood with my age group on the girls' side. Nobody talked to me. Everybody stared.

I shifted my feet around a little, until the Reaping began. It started when Bristol Wedgewood, our escort, leaped onto the stage.

"Hello, hello! This year is a Quarter Quell year, a very special year!" she exclaimed. "Let's start with the showing of the Reaping film!"

The screen began playing a very dull video that I had learned to tune out. Instead, I occupied myself with counting hats. I got up to 27 when the mayor came out to read us the Treaty of Treason. I began counting the wrinkles on his hands. There were 33 on the right and 29 on the left. He's old.

Bristol made her way back onto the stage and started the interesting part of the Reaping.

"Let us find out what type of Quarter Quell this is going to be!" she sang out.

Out of nowhere, an envelope seemed to appear in her hand. She began to open it greedily, as if she had just received the largest package ever on her birthday. She had a very yellow personality.

"This year we all have ladies as our tributes!" Bristol said, her voice echoing around the dead silent crowd.

Small gasps filled the air, creating an almost musical sound. Everybody quieted down though once Bristol walked over and pulled out the first slip from the girls' glass bowl.

"Tyonna Martel!" Bristol announced.

A girl from the 15 year old section with a green dress on emerged from the crowd. She headed up to the stage, her eyes wide with fear, and brimming with tears. I felt bad for her, and slightly nervous for myself. My chances of being picked had just slightly increased.

Bristol happily plunged her hand into the girls' bowl for the second time, drawing out a cream white slip.

"Lotus Ashling!" she called out.

That was me. My blood froze, my heart turned to stone, and my hair stood on end. Then my body went back to normal and I glided up to the stage, swift as an autumn breeze. The crowd gasped slightly when they saw me. It must've been the Rumblestrum powder that caused it. I felt very uncomfortable for about my looks. I would rather be known for my purple personality, not my purple looks.

I grabbed the microphone and said, "Hello everyone! It's a very pleasant night, isn't it? Too bad the Glownifers aren't out."

It really was too bad. They were these darling little blue type creatures that sing and bake apple pies, and they were ever so polite.

The crowd stared at me, open mouthed, and I felt a little uncomfortable. Maybe I shouldn't have been so forthcoming.

Bristol hastily grabbed the microphone back from me and told me to shake hands with Tyonna. We did. Tyonna stared at me in wonder, and I gave her a friendly smile. She seemed nice, not like some of the bloodthirsty tributes we got occasionally.

"District 7," Bristol announced, "May I present to you, your Quarter Quell representatives, Tyonna Martel and Lotus Ashling! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I beamed out at the crowd, wanting to cheer them up. They all seemed so sad. They shouldn't be after all. If purple couldn't win the Games, what could?