Elara Veux, 18 Years-Old
The first rays of the sun sneak through the tattered curtains, casting a pale light across my small, sparsely furnished room. I sit on the edge of my bed, my body trembling uncontrollably. Today is the day of the Reapings, and fear clutches at my heart like an icy hand. I am 18, it's my final year but my name is etched on multiple slips of paper in that dreaded bowl.
My breathing is rapid and shallow, each inhale a struggle as panic winds its way through my body. I bite my lip hard, trying to stifle the sobs that threaten to break free. I never handled stress well. In the spur of moment, I am fine but the longer my mind has to dwell, the worse I feel. My mind is my own worst enemy.
Beside me, on the next bed, my younger brother sleeps peacefully, oblivious to the turmoil swirling in my mind. He's only 10, safe from the horrors of the Reaping, and I envy his innocence.
My eyes wander to the window, where the sun is slowly rising, casting a golden hue over the distant mountains. I long to be out there, far from the clutches of the Capitol, far from the terror that awaits me. The mountains seem to represent a close but unattainable freedom, and a profound sense of hopelessness engulfs me.
My cat, a small, grey tabby named Whiskers, jumps onto my lap, breaking my trance. Instinctively, my hands begin to stroke his soft fur, finding a small measure of comfort in his warm presence. Whiskers purrs, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. How I wish I could be like him, carefree and unburdened by the weight of the world. Where my biggest concern was finding a warm place to sleep.
As I sit there, my mind races with thoughts of the Reaping. I imagine my name being called, the walk up to the stage, the eyes of the entire district on me. The thought makes my stomach churn. I try to tell myself that I won't be chosen but deep down, a voice whispers that something is terribly wrong and that I need to run.
The silence of the room is punctuated only by my quiet sobs and Whiskers' gentle purring. I look at my brother again, his chest rising and falling rhythmically in sleep. I feel a fierce protectiveness over him, a desire to ensure that he never has to face a day like this.
My gaze returns to the window, to the world awakening outside. The beauty of the dawn is a stark contrast to the darkness in my heart. I feel trapped. The mountains in the distance, once a symbol of dreams and possibilities, now seem like silent witnesses to my despair.
Whiskers nuzzles my hand, bringing me back to the present. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Today is a day of fear, a day of uncertainty, but I know I have to face it. For my brother, for myself, I have to find the strength to endure.
With a heavy heart, I slowly rise from the bed, Whiskers jumping down with a soft thud. I wipe my tears, take another deep breath, and steel myself for the day ahead. The Reaping awaits, and with it, the cruel hand of fate. But in this moment, with the first light of dawn and the quiet comfort of my cat, I find a flicker of courage to face whatever lies ahead.
Sterling Banks, 12 Years-Old
The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the schoolyard where my friends and I were playing basketball. I was in my element, the ball in my hands, laughter and shouts filling the air. Life felt simple in moments like this.
"Pass it here, Sterling!" yelled Marble, waving his arms frantically.
Grinning, I dribbled the ball, feeling the familiar adrenaline rush. With a swift movement, I aimed and threw the ball with all my might. But instead of heading towards Marble, it veered off course, smashing right into the school window with a loud crash. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the yard, and for a moment, everything went silent.
"Oh man, Sterling, you're in trouble now!" whispered Maximus, his eyes wide.
I stood frozen, watching as Mrs. Harrow, our stern-faced math teacher, marched towards us. Her eyes were blazing with anger, and I knew there was no escaping this one.
"Who did this?" she demanded, her voice sharp as a knife.
The guys looked at me, and I knew I had to own up. Shrugging, I said, "It was me, Mrs. Harrow."
Her gaze fixed on me, piercing and cold. "Can you pay for that window, boy?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
I shrugged again, trying to appear nonchalant. "Probably not," I replied, trying to mask my nervousness with indifference.
Mrs. Harrow's frown deepened. "Detention for a week, Sterling. I'll be speaking to your parents about this."
I rolled my eyes and replied with a mocking tone, "Ooo, so scary." My friends snickered, and I couldn't help but smirk.
Just as Mrs. Harrow opened her mouth to say more, the bell for the Reaping cut her off. Her expression softened slightly, but her words were still stern. "You're being let off because it's Reaping day, Sterling. But you need to watch your mouth."
The mention of the Reaping sent a shiver down my spine. I'd been trying to forget about it all day, but now the reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I was Twelve, and this was my first year in the pool. The thought of my name being called out in front of the entire District terrified me. I wasn't even alive during the war yet I was still at risk of being punished for it?
I glanced at my friends, seeing my own fear reflected in their eyes. "It's going to be alright," I said, more to reassure myself than them. "We'll get through today, just like any other day."
They nodded, but the usual banter and jokes were gone. The weight of the Reaping hung over us, a dark cloud on what had been a perfect, carefree day.
As we walked towards the assembly area, I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the broken window and my careless attitude. Today of all days, I didn't need extra attention on me. But it was too late for regrets now.
We joined the crowd of students, the nervous energy palpable in the air. I stood there, trying to appear brave, but inside, my heart was racing. The Reaping was about to begin, and all I could do was hope and pray that my name wouldn't be called.
Caspian Farrow, Victor of the 3rd Hunger Games
I felt thousands of eyes watching me as I sat next to the Mayor on the stage. Every parent hoped I could save their children, every child hoped I could bring them home. Why wouldn't they? I was a victor, you could argue the most qualified man in District 1. They'd watched me win my games through pure might and little strategy. I attacked anything that moved, no matter their age or District. The difference was that I was raised in war. I fought on the front lines and battered man twice my size from the age of thirteen. I was trained in most melee weapons and hardened by a real battle field. It was almost terrifying how quickly the lines blurred between the enemy and a small child from District 8.
The children I saw before me were not soldiers. They were children who at their eldest probably spent the dark days clung tightly to their mother and developed a small fear for the sound of gunfire. The younger they became the less likely it was they had ever witnessed war or held a weapon of any kind. I couldn't train someone to murder with ease. I couldn't train someone to survive something I had no experience in. Gone were the days of the simple gladiator style arena. The Games had evolved to vast outdoor Arenas. Most likely an environment I'd struggle to survive more than a few days in. I couldn't help them, I couldn't bring any of them home.
My thoughts were interrupted by the small clink of the Escort's heels. A woman, only a few years younger than myself, named Aurelia Vesper. A graduate of some Capitol University who had been chosen to aid the Tributes within the Capitol. It was something I was thankful for. Teaching children to survive was one thing, teaching them to be likable was impossible.
Aurelia scanned the crowd, her brown eyes failing to convey the happiness shown within her smile, her fingers lightly fluttering in a small wave to the children.
"Good morning, District 1" she said light-heartedly. "Are you ready to see which…lucky…boy and girl will be chosen this year?" The crowd was silent as they blankly stared back at her. I couldn't help but smirk as I watched her squirm at the unresponsive crowd. In what way were they "lucky"? It was something only a Capitolite could say.
Aurelia cleared her throat before silently moving towards the female bowl. Without hesitating she thrust her hand in and picked a name from deep within the bowl.
"Elara Veux!" she called, her voice cracking slightly as she did so. A blonde girl from the 18 year old section froze at this, looking around her maybe in hopes she had heard the name incorrectly. When she realized she hadn't she took a deep breath and started to move towards the stage. She was a pretty girl with flowing golden blonde hair, a sweet face and large green eyes. That could get people on her side. She was also tall and reasonably well fed so she would at least be able to fight back. I offered her a small smile as she mounted the stage, but she didn't return it, instead scowling at Aurelia who fussed about her being on a certain spot. I saw my younger self in the rage her eyes held. The anger at knowing I was being sent to my death.
"And now, for the boy!" she said, straining to sound happy. She made her way over to the other bowl and picked out the name from the top.
"Sterling Banks" there was a gasp as people quickly looked around to the youngest section to where a tall boy stood, his eyes wide with fear. He could have been Elara's brother with his appearance but she seemed to care too little for him to be family. Sterling moved to run but when a Peacekeeper stood to the side and blocked him, he looked back towards the stage. Slowly he moved, his head hung low and his body shaking as he sobbed.
I let out a sigh as I watched him, joining my District as they watched him mount the stage with heartbreak.
He was twelve-years-old and he was the youngest Tribute Reaped so far from District 1. Elara had a chance but I knew there was nothing I could do to protect that poor boy.
Authors Note: Our First Reaping! Starting off strong with District 1.
So I am trying out this format of having the Tribute's POV be their life before they were Reaped/Volunteered and having the Mentor or Escort POV be about their Reaping. Let me know what you think!
So, as I have no other Districts full at the moment I have decided to combine Reapings until I do. Such as District 2 Male and District 12 Male. Ideally I'd like full Districts but I'd like to write the Tributes I've got in already rather than waiting for someone to complete a District.
Overall, this chapter was really fun to write. It's not often you get to write or read about untrained, weak District 1 Tributes or an uneasy Escort.
Chapter Questions (If you would like to answer):
-Thoughts on Elara?
-Thoughts on Sterling?
-Any predictions?
-Would your Tribute consider allying with Sterling or Elara?
Until next time!