Welcome to wonderland
I'll be your guide
Holding your hand under sapphire skies
Let's go exploring or we could just go for
A walk
Dahlia Lucretia
District 10, She/They, 17
(2 Months Prior the Reaping)
...
"Close your eyes, outstretch your hands and breathe in." I whisper, doing just that. I sit in tranquil silence until I feel it, it's like a shiver that slowly trickles itself up my spine until it reaches my face and my eyes fly open. "Keep your eyes closed." I snap to the client who sits opposite me and I watch her eyes snap back shut. I begin to hum and tap my fingers against the floor until it appears.
It isn't a ghostlike form as many might expect, in fact, it looks almost identical to how it would in the land of the living. Besides the eyes, which no longer contain white and simply darkness, I have never found out why this might be but it frightens me. "He's here." I murmur and my client begins to breathe rapidly, hands shaking. "Stay calm, let me talk to him."
I stare into the dark eyes of the man, he is younger than what I'm used to. Maybe 18, give or take, with a youthful, pale face and disheveled dark hair. He is quite beautiful, I can see why my client misses him so much. "You are Jonathan Crowther, yes?" The man nods his head slowly. "I am here with your wife, Lucia." He looks down at the woman who now sobs on the floor, eyes remaining closed. It has been a few years since his death and she has never stopped mourning, a friend of hers must've told her about me. She was reluctant at first, all my clients are, but proof is easy for me to provide in the form of a special moment the two of them shared or an inside joke.
"I-I love her very much. Tell her that. Please." He says in a croaky voice, hardly managing to get his words out. It's tough to make the journey over here, I know that much from my own research, and many of the people I meet with are exhausted and lacking in energy so I cannot keep them long. I repeat what Jonathan says to me back to Lucia, and she nods - still sobbing.
"I love you too Jonathan. I love you too." She whispers and he smiles before fading away.
"He's gone, you can open your eyes, Dear." She does and tears slip down her dark-skinned cheeks from her large, hazel eyes.
"T-thank you Dahlia. Thank you." She says, taking my hands in hers and pressing her forehead against them.
"Next month we can do it again, he must rest." She nods and gets up, thanking me again on her way out. I sigh in relief (as it's my final client of the day) and I make my way out of the shed in my backyard, approaching the large, white townhouse before me. My parents and sister all sit at the dining table, eating a yellow-coloured soup with a roll of bread for dipping. I sit down next to my sister and immediately begin to devour the meal already set out in front of me.
"We were wondering when you'd get in." Mother says, tapping the sides of her mouth with a napkin. "You work too hard, Dahlia. You know we don't need the extra money that your...services provide." My parents, like most people, are hesitant to believe in my gifts. I would be too and therefore I don't hold anything against them for it, although it would be nice to have the extra support.
"I know. But I enjoy it, helping people, I mean. It's fulfilling." Father nods his head as I speak.
"That's my daughter, amazing work ethic just like her old Dad." I smile at him, we've always got along better than I do with my mother. While my sister and mother are knitting or watching TV, I much prefer to keep myself busy by cleaning and cooking, another one of my 'quirks'. Other kids in the District think I'm weird, for a variety of reasons, and I understand but it will never not hurt.
I want to be normal so bad and yet I'm anything but.
Ossian Rasmus
District 10, He/They, 14
(Reaping Day)
...
Oh, how I hate eating breakfast alone. Thinking about the day ahead as you shovel cereal and milk into your mouth, not knowing whether you can be bothered to get up and start the day. It's breakfast when I'm at my lowest, thinking about Mum and Dad (well, really my Stepdad) cracking jokes around the table. Dad telling me all about what to look forward to - fixing cars or working in The Butcher's usually - and Mum telling me how lucky I was to have a Dad who wants to hang out with me. Not so lucky now, just a lonely orphan trying to make the most out of life.
I sigh as I get up and off of my chair, there will be no simply sitting around today. I cannot go back into that spiral. That spiral of mourning and grief. I shudder just to think about it, sitting up in my room while I cuddle Kiki. Not even bothering to get something to eat on the majority of days. Then, one day, I saw Dad's car out in the garage while getting myself a can of soda. It just sparked something in me, I couldn't help it, suddenly I was under the car with a wrench making improvements and laughing at memories of him and I. It didn't all become sunshine and rainbows after that and it likely never will but I'm learning to accept that.
Once I've washed my bowl and spoon in the kitchen sink, I head into the garage and begin painting it in the new neon green colour that I bought at the market - yesterday. I repaint the car every couple of weeks, it keeps me busy for the most part although it's admittedly not very productive. I look up at the clock every couple of minutes, usually I lose track of time while working on the car and being late to The Reaping would not turn out great. Gracie Adams told me once that her brother's friend was dragged outside his home and shot in the head by a Peacekeeper, simply for sleeping through it!
I have around ten minutes before it starts so I slip on my shoes and begin my walk. I wish I could take the car, not because the walk is long or anything, but because of how much I miss riding in it. Dad and I would always go out late at night, riding around in the fields where nobody could see us, I would stick my whole head out the window. It made me feel so brave, like I could do anything.
I almost run into someone in The District Centre, too caught up in the memories of wild joy rides
"Watch it!" The woman shouts and I mutter back an apology, making my way to the line. I don't recognise anyone, I've rarely gotten the chance to interact with people since my parents' accident. Any friends I had previously have long forgotten about me.
"Finger." I stick out my index finger for the Peacekeeper and he pricks it, causing me to hiss through my teeth due to the sudden sting. I don't do well with pain, not since I thought about what they must've felt like in that moment.
By the time I've found the section with the other kids my age, The Reaping has begun with a petite man in a bright pink tuxedo hopping on stage.
"'Ello, 'ello District Ten." District Ten is silent in response. "No applause? Booooo!" He shouts into the microphone before throwing his head back to cackle. I roll my eyes, what a daft man.
"Alrighty, here's your mentor then. Miguel Cowley, come on out buddy!" Miguel walks out of The Justice Building with a small wave, per usual.
"Let's start out with our female tribute..." I find the silence very uncomfortable and shuffle my feet. "Dahlia Lucretia!"
A tall girl with pale skin shows on the screen, she wears a spiky black coat and a hoop on her nose which I find odd. I've never seen someone like that before but she seems to own it. Her head is held high as she walks toward the stage but there is very obvious worry etched in her electric blue eyes. I don't think I would be able to compose myself if I were to be reaped so props to her.
"Now our male..." Shuffle, shuffle. "Ossian Erasmus." I jump at the sound of my name and look around frantically, the kids around me are all staring. Some look empathetic and encouraging, others look like they could care less. I almost trip over as I make my way up to the stage, not realising there's another step to get up. I stand next to Dahlia and focus on stopping the tears from spilling out.
"Our tributes from District 10, Dahlia Lucretia and Ossian Erasmus!"
I thought things couldn't get any worse but I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
A/N: Two more reaping chapters to go :O. Thanks to Gomex for Dahlia and Ossian!
- Neb