Wonderful part, from my biased point of view it was the best so far! Alara was amazing here, I love how she turned out. Troy was also great, I already like him.
Alara Morrow: District 7
I lie motionless, crouched behind a tree. The morning light has just hit the woods and we’re in the clear. I cal… morel Cedric out and he pops out from another tree.
“You have your tree?” I ask.
“Yeah, you?” I point to the one I’m standing next to.
“Better get to work.” I say. Cedric, my younger brother and I begin to chop down the trees. This is going to take several days but it’s what gets food on the table.
We live in the poorest part of district seven. The floors are chalked in dirt and there’s two rooms. I wish my mom married a carpenter. That way we could just build a nice house.
Out of my five other siblings Cedric is my favorite sibling. And I have no problem confessing that. The others already know, maybe not Ava since she’s seven but she likes spending time with Quentin better anyways.
District seven really didn’t have boundaries like the others. Well, yes it did. We did have a wall that separ… [view original content]
[Talk about it]
Wonderful part, from my biased point of view it was the best so far! Alara was amazing here, I love how she turned out. Troy was also great, I already like him.
Name: Omri Grayny
Age: 17
District: 9
Weapon: Spear
Personality: Talkative , Carelss , Kind , Funny , Dumb , Jealous , Proud.
… more Appearance: red short curly hair , blue eyes , thin , weak , fair skin , 5.7 feet tall.
Backstory: After he mother´s death , he became a drug adict. His older brother Barley is one of the richest perople in the district cause he married a young woman called Mazie , who´s father is owner of a lot of fabrics. Omri hates him
If there was a song that relates to your characters story, what would it be?:
Name: Omri Grayny
Age: 17
District: 9
Weapon: Spear
Personality: Talkative , Carelss , Kind , Funny , Dumb , Jealous , Proud.
… more Appearance: red short curly hair , blue eyes , thin , weak , fair skin , 5.7 feet tall.
Backstory: After he mother´s death , he became a drug adict. His older brother Barley is one of the richest perople in the district cause he married a young woman called Mazie , who´s father is owner of a lot of fabrics. Omri hates him
If there was a song that relates to your characters story, what would it be?:
Personality: Hestia is a shallow woman, due to the lavish lifestyle she had in the Capitol. She hopes to bring some excitement and joy to district ten's reapings and hopes for a winner this year. Sometimes her Idiocy brings tension to people who have it worse, but she always manages to turn bad situations right, or so she thinks.
Appearance: Nobody really knows what she looks like underneath all that makeup. She's caked in white powder and has over the silver hair and wearing a peacock feathered dress.
Backstory: None really
District ten doesn't mention any mentors so I'll make some also.
District: 10
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Name: Angus Ford
Personality: Angus is very blunt in his personality, not afraid to say whatever is on his mind even when it gets him and those he loves in trouble.
Backstory: Angus is district tens only victor. He won by using the arena to his advantage, a prairie arena that was similar to ten. When there were few remaining, he used his brute strength to kill off the remaining tributes. He didn't ally with any tributes because of the fear they'd turn on him. Angus still has nightmares about the games (PTSD).
Appearance: Angus is a very tall and muscular man, 6'6. He's an attractive man with light green eyes and dark brown hair.
Alara Morrow: District 7
I lie motionless, crouched behind a tree. The morning light has just hit the woods and we’re in the clear. I cal… morel Cedric out and he pops out from another tree.
“You have your tree?” I ask.
“Yeah, you?” I point to the one I’m standing next to.
“Better get to work.” I say. Cedric, my younger brother and I begin to chop down the trees. This is going to take several days but it’s what gets food on the table.
We live in the poorest part of district seven. The floors are chalked in dirt and there’s two rooms. I wish my mom married a carpenter. That way we could just build a nice house.
Out of my five other siblings Cedric is my favorite sibling. And I have no problem confessing that. The others already know, maybe not Ava since she’s seven but she likes spending time with Quentin better anyways.
District seven really didn’t have boundaries like the others. Well, yes it did. We did have a wall that separ… [view original content]
Just checked this out, awesome story! I submit the District 12 male if that is okay.
Name: Colton Traynor
Age: 16
District: 12
Weapon: His fists, his strength
Personality: He is very aggressive and rude. He never trusts anyone, but is also very honest and straightforward, so he would never betray someone or lie about something. He is stubborn and can't admit mistakes and he is also not very smart or subtle. He is ruthless, even towards his district partner and is very brutal and loud and cruel. He is also arrogant and thinks that he is better than anyone else. He loves violence and to get into fights
Appearance: Tall for his age, short blond hair, blue eyes, very muscular and strong because he worked as a coal miner for years.
Backstory: He comes from one of the richer families of District 12 that always had enough food to eat. Because oft this he was always taller and stronger than other children and he often pushed them around and never had many friends. He works in the mines and often gets into fights with other people from his district.
If there was a song that relates to your characters story, what would it be?:
Just checked this out, awesome story! I submit the District 12 male if that is okay.
Name: Colton Traynor
Age: 16
District: 12
W… moreeapon: His fists, his strength
Personality: He is very aggressive and rude. He never trusts anyone, but is also very honest and straightforward, so he would never betray someone or lie about something. He is stubborn and can't admit mistakes and he is also not very smart or subtle. He is ruthless, even towards his district partner and is very brutal and loud and cruel. He is also arrogant and thinks that he is better than anyone else. He loves violence and to get into fights
Appearance: Tall for his age, short blond hair, blue eyes, very muscular and strong because he worked as a coal miner for years.
Backstory: He comes from one of the richer families of District 12 that always had enough food to eat. Because oft this he was always taller and stronger than other children and he often pushed the… [view original content]
Name: Omri Grayny
Age: 17
District: 9
Weapon: Spear
Personality: Talkative , Carelss , Kind , Funny , Dumb , Jealous , Proud.
… more Appearance: red short curly hair , blue eyes , thin , weak , fair skin , 5.7 feet tall.
Backstory: After he mother´s death , he became a drug adict. His older brother Barley is one of the richest perople in the district cause he married a young woman called Mazie , who´s father is owner of a lot of fabrics. Omri hates him
If there was a song that relates to your characters story, what would it be?:
Just checked this out, awesome story! I submit the District 12 male if that is okay.
Name: Colton Traynor
Age: 16
District: 12
W… moreeapon: His fists, his strength
Personality: He is very aggressive and rude. He never trusts anyone, but is also very honest and straightforward, so he would never betray someone or lie about something. He is stubborn and can't admit mistakes and he is also not very smart or subtle. He is ruthless, even towards his district partner and is very brutal and loud and cruel. He is also arrogant and thinks that he is better than anyone else. He loves violence and to get into fights
Appearance: Tall for his age, short blond hair, blue eyes, very muscular and strong because he worked as a coal miner for years.
Backstory: He comes from one of the richer families of District 12 that always had enough food to eat. Because oft this he was always taller and stronger than other children and he often pushed the… [view original content]
Just checked this out, awesome story! I submit the District 12 male if that is okay.
Name: Colton Traynor
Age: 16
District: 12
W… moreeapon: His fists, his strength
Personality: He is very aggressive and rude. He never trusts anyone, but is also very honest and straightforward, so he would never betray someone or lie about something. He is stubborn and can't admit mistakes and he is also not very smart or subtle. He is ruthless, even towards his district partner and is very brutal and loud and cruel. He is also arrogant and thinks that he is better than anyone else. He loves violence and to get into fights
Appearance: Tall for his age, short blond hair, blue eyes, very muscular and strong because he worked as a coal miner for years.
Backstory: He comes from one of the richer families of District 12 that always had enough food to eat. Because oft this he was always taller and stronger than other children and he often pushed the… [view original content]
Durian´s father
Thorn Willow Everbrown
44
Male
Personality: Agressive , Insane , Blunt , Careless , Coward
Thorn´s dad died … morefrom starvation and exastuation from working so much (which is one of the most common type of death in District 11). When he was 14 , he feel in love with her neighboor , Apple. But Apple was reaped and he didn´t do anything to stop it. She was brutally murdered and cause there wasn´t many supplies in the arena , the tribute who killed her eat her. Thorn was depressed until he saw a "reflection" of Apple in her sister Peara. He married her and had Durian , but she died in birth. He felt as Apple was taking away from him again and he is angry ever since
Apperance: Black long curly hair , brown eyes , fair skin , 5,8 feet , athletic.
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thing out.
After my dad died, we got a month’s pension before my mom was expected to get back to work. But that never happened, shortly after his death she got deathly sick, and it took lots of effort for her to just to get out of bed. At nine years old, I started working on the fields. Sometimes milking a cow, sometimes slaughtering them and shipping off to the Capitol. I grew to like the animals but I’m slowly starting to learn not to get too attached anymore.
Usually, I’d have to spend an extra six hours working the in the farmland. The peacekeepers force us. But today was a special day. Any workers, ordered by President Snow, with children or who are between the ages of twelve to eighteen shall be released early. And last month, I turned twelve.
Today I’d head to the footsteps of town hall and watch as one supposedly lucky male and female are given the ‘honor’ of representing district ten in a not so honorable fight to the death.
My name is supposed to be entered one time today because I just turned twelve last month, the age you become eligible, at twelve your name is put in once, at thirteen twice, as so on until you’re eighteen, the last eligible year, when your name is in the pool seven times. But the Capitol’s reaping system is unfair, with the poor always getting the short end of the stick.
Here’s the catch, if you need the food you can opt to add your name into the pool extra times in exchange for tesserae, each time you enter your name you get a modest years supply of grain and oil for one person. You can do this for family members as well. So, my name is entered three times today, one because I have to, the second is for me, and the third is for my mom. But I know that’s not going to help her get better again.
A tub of warm water is there when I get home. I scrub the dirt, grime and sweat out until I’m somewhat decent. I put my hair in nothing more than a ponytail. It’s not as if I could put it in much else, it’s dull, blonde and falls flat with no vibrance when it hangs just slightly past my shoulders.
I change into my reaping clothes, they’re just some working clothes but they double as a reaping outfit since it’s just a pair of jeans and a sleeveless white blouse. Most of the surface stains fade away, but the deep mud stains are still stuck in the white blouses fabric.
I walk to my mom’s bed, lightly shaking her before she wakes up. She doesn’t look so bad today, her sickly pale skin isn’t looking so sick today, but good days are often followed by bad ones.
“You look beautiful.” She manages to sit up. She combs part of my hair that has apparently fallen out of the ponytail and tucks it behind my ear. “Better.” She smiles, which makes me smile back. “When do I not?” I sarcastically reply. I can hear her stomach growl in hunger. It was a good thing for tesserae. But I know that won’t save her.
At two’ o clock, my mom and I head to the town hall. I considered the thought of just hiding in the fields, but that would cause more problems. Not showing up is punishable by death. I’m pushed to the front with the other twelve year olds. Also known as the splash zone because going into the games here is a guarantee of certain death.
“Welcome.” Our escort, bubbly socialite, Hestia Pensworth, blares her over the top Capitol accent through her mic. “And a happy hunger games!” In fact, her entire appearance screams over the top. Silver hair, her faced cakes in white powder, and a dress plucked in vibrant feathers. It looks like she’s trying to be sick.
She gushes about what an honor it is to be district ten’s escort. I’m not sure if she’s lying, she genuinely seems happy. She must be in her own shallow world where she doesn’t know how bad the games really are here. Evident by our one and only victor of district ten sitting on stage, Angus Ford. A stern looking man in his thirties, it was clear how he won, he was a giant at six and a half feet and built like an ox.
It’s time for the drawings. Hestia struts down to the female pool and as she always says “Ladies first!” She digs her hand in, spending a few seconds before choosing which one.
The crowd draws in a collective silence. All hoping it’s not them. My mind pulls away, through the crowd I can notice my mom, coughing her lungs out, holding a rag sprayed in her blood. It’s that, rag, sprayed in her blood that snaps me back. I push my way through the twelve year olds. “I volunteer as tribute!” I gasp.
I can hear the crowds breath taken away, and for good reason. I don’t know if there’s ever been a volunteer in ten, definitely not a twelve year old, that’s for sure. My actions even have our escort, Hestia Pensworth hanging her jaw before she quickly closes it back up.
“W… wonderful! Bravo!” Hestia Pensworth manages to pull out. Angus Ford, our only victor has a questionable look in his green eyes but reluctantly claps. “Well come up dear! Don’t be shy!” She gestures me up the stage. The girl on stage is sobbing, but smiling at the same time. I think she thanks me when I walk up there.
“Aren’t you fearless?” Hestia hands her mic to me. I’m frozen, no words come out my name. I just nod along. “What’s your name?”
“Cheyenne Wells.” I manage to pull out.
“Well, district ten say hello to your newest tribute. Cheyenne Wells!” Hestia heartfully smiles. Few are clapping, mainly the ones holding the betting slips. But some are still shocked, even angry, at my decision, but there was nothing I could do! My mom would be dead in a matter of months, I’ve seen what happens when the orphanage takes you, those sad eyes and malnourished bodies. I wouldn’t let that happen to me or her.
“Time for our male tribute.” Hestia moves on. She draws a paper and heads back to the podium. “Buck Jones!” She cheers.
A boy with short brown hair from the seventeen year old section emerges. He’s fearful, as am I now. When he walks up and stands beside me he’s a complete opposite of me in every physical aspect. He’s at least a foot taller than me and has at least a hundred pounds on me.
“Congratulationas Buck!” Hestia goes in for a hug from Buck, he nearly pushes her off stage, but Hestia somehow manages to not fall overboard, I can hear Angus laughing in the back. Hestia’s apparently silver wig is off centered. Hestia cowers in embarrassment but keeps going. “District ten, your tributes Buck Jones and Cheyenne Wells!” She must be in a hurry to finish things.
We’re rushed into the Justice building. I’ve never seen a place this expensive, mainly because district ten is mainly covered in barns and open fields. I sit down on one of the velvet couches, running my fingers through the expensive fabric before my mom’s escorted in.
She’s in tears when she walks in. “What have you done!” I pause for a few moments, I’m shaken. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done!” She snaps. I can tell she’s angry, because she uses all her strength to stand up straight and fold her arms in an angry manner.
“I was going to win for you.” I tell her but the next part is especially hard. “I don’t want to see you die!” You see, if you’re a victor, you and your family become immediately rich and safe. An expensive house, food is never scarce and most importantly medicine.
“Cheyenne no!” She holds me close, because I’m now sobbing in her floral blouse. “No twelve year old has ever won the games, no twelve year old has ever volunteered!” She sobs along with me until her words become almost incomparable.
We hold each other for the next few moments. Until the peacekeepers barge in the mahogany doors. “Times up.” One hisses.
“Cheyenne I want you to take this.” Her arm is still tense and shaking. Inside her palm was a rabbits foot, she always kept in her pocket for good luck. It was a token, the Capitol will let you wear one thing from your district in the arena, whether it be a locket, a ring, or a pin, as long as it’s not a weapon.
“You said you were, you were…” I can’t finish the next sentence. In the likelihood she dies, she said she wanted to be buried with it. I can’t take it, does she think I’ll die?
Cheyenne Wells: District 10
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun… more is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thin… [view original content]
Cheyenne Wells: District 10
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun… more is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thin… [view original content]
Cheyenne Wells: District 10
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun… more is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thin… [view original content]
Cheyenne Wells: District 10
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun… more is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thin… [view original content]
Cheyenne Wells: District 10
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun… more is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thin… [view original content]
Cheyenne Wells: District 10
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun… more is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thin… [view original content]
The little shack near the square, that was our house. My older sister, Willow had just walked in. Her head trying to stay high She had taken extra shifts in the field to keep the house.
“You ready?” She asks me, shutting the door behind her.
I pause for a moment. “I just wish mom and dad were here.”
Willow looks at me with a surprised look in her wide set of brown eyes, like mine. I haven’t brought them up since dad died. “Me too kiddo.” She rushes to my side and gives me a hug.
“Just think, they’re looking down on you right now, they’ll keep you safe.” She tells me. Which cheers me up a little.
Willow helps me put my thick brown hair in a bun. She wears mom’s old reaping dress with blue ruffle on it and I wear her hand me downs, some white dress thing that goes down to my knees.
Today’s my first reaping and my sisters last. My name is entered three times today and hers is entered twenty-four. If I keep the pattern going until I’m eighteen my name will be entered fifteen times in the pool.
When the crowd fills up I’m separated from my sister who goes with the other eighteen year old in the back. I clutch my fists for the next few hours to come, the reapings were always painful to watch, even when I wasn’t in them.
At two o’ clock, district eleven’s newest mayor walks up to the stage and begins the mandatory treaty of treason. My dad would’ve been the one reading this today, but I guess not even the mayor is safe from starvation, really says something up district eleven. It’s a long boring spiel about how we lived in a country in ruins once called North America and how it rose from the ashes and became the thriving country we now call Panem, with a rich Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts. Then he lists the dark days, when Panem’s districts rebelled. District thirteen was destroyed and the other twelve were defeated. I’ve learned some of it from my sister, who talks about her hatred for the Capitol any chance she gets.
And then came the treaty of treason, that guaranteed peace at the cost of never repeating the dark days, gave us the Hunger Games.
The man finally concludes his speech and heads back to his seat. Our escort Atheana Dunbryll gets up from her seat and gives a big hearty smile that is most likely a genuine one. Unlike most of the Escorts I’ve seen on televised on the square, Atheana is actually very pretty, it’s only her green dress and black studs that screams Capitol.
“Quite the speech!” She gushes in her odd Capitol accent that’s high pitched with the tone of her voice only going up as she speaks. “Happy Hunger games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!” She cheers, but there’s no clapping, only silence to her embarrassment.
“Let’s begin, as always ladies first!” She tries to get the ball rolling again. Her dainty little fingers delicately dance around the top of the bowl before picking one. I quickly glance over my shoulder and spit Willow biting her lip in the wait. The odds are certainly in her favor of being reaped, I should've put my name in more, she already does so much for me, it's the least I could do.
But it's not Willow Baker.
It's me.
The crowd is in a complete silence, as they always are when a twelve year old is reaped, because no one thinks it’s fair. I fight my legs to move making them mount the steps to the stage.
She can volunteer for me! I think to myself, she must be thinking that because of the look in her eyes.
“Now are there any volunteers?” Atheana asks. The crowd is hushed, so silent you can hear a pin drop.
“Anyone?” Atheana asks again. Through the crowd I can see Willow, her wide set of brown eyes are filled with fear. But her mouth is sewn shut. Wait, no it’s not. She mouths the words, I'm sorry. because here, the games are almost certain death. There’s twenty four tributes and one comes out. I’m not some weapons expert, I’m not two hundred twenty pounds, I’m just tip the scale at seventy pounds and four foot nine, with a limited knowledge of a knife.
The odds are certainly not in my favor.
[Cry] [Stay silent]
I might add the ending of district eleven since this was short. What do you think? Should I? I might start doing that instead.
She can't intimidate the other tributes, that's for sure. I don't think anyone will believe her if she acts tough. But maybe she can win some sponsors if she puts emphasis on her being a poor little girl. As far as I know the capitol people aren't heartless, just extremely ignorant and they might have an oddly soft spot for cute little girls
If you want, you could add a longer ending for D11, given that we haven't seen the D11 male reaping so far.
Clementine Baker: District 11
The little shack near the square, that was our house. My older sister, Willow had just walked in. Her head … moretrying to stay high She had taken extra shifts in the field to keep the house.
“You ready?” She asks me, shutting the door behind her.
I pause for a moment. “I just wish mom and dad were here.”
Willow looks at me with a surprised look in her wide set of brown eyes, like mine. I haven’t brought them up since dad died. “Me too kiddo.” She rushes to my side and gives me a hug.
“Just think, they’re looking down on you right now, they’ll keep you safe.” She tells me. Which cheers me up a little.
Willow helps me put my thick brown hair in a bun. She wears mom’s old reaping dress with blue ruffle on it and I wear her hand me downs, some white dress thing that goes down to my knees.
Today’s my first reaping and my sisters last. My name is entered three times today and hers is entered twenty-four… [view original content]
Comments
[Talk about it]
Wonderful part, from my biased point of view it was the best so far! Alara was amazing here, I love how she turned out. Troy was also great, I already like him.
Lets try our best to make it through, partner!
@TWD_25
http://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/92526/a-murder-mystery-fanfiction
Did you see it? @TWD_25
I'll make a escort.
Name: Hestia Pensworth
District 10
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Personality: Hestia is a shallow woman, due to the lavish lifestyle she had in the Capitol. She hopes to bring some excitement and joy to district ten's reapings and hopes for a winner this year. Sometimes her Idiocy brings tension to people who have it worse, but she always manages to turn bad situations right, or so she thinks.
Appearance: Nobody really knows what she looks like underneath all that makeup. She's caked in white powder and has over the silver hair and wearing a peacock feathered dress.
Backstory: None really
District ten doesn't mention any mentors so I'll make some also.
District: 10
Gender: Male
Age: 38
Name: Angus Ford
Personality: Angus is very blunt in his personality, not afraid to say whatever is on his mind even when it gets him and those he loves in trouble.
Backstory: Angus is district tens only victor. He won by using the arena to his advantage, a prairie arena that was similar to ten. When there were few remaining, he used his brute strength to kill off the remaining tributes. He didn't ally with any tributes because of the fear they'd turn on him. Angus still has nightmares about the games (PTSD).
Appearance: Angus is a very tall and muscular man, 6'6. He's an attractive man with light green eyes and dark brown hair.
Oh okay
[Talk about it]
Awesome chapter!
Just checked this out, awesome story! I submit the District 12 male if that is okay.
Name: Colton Traynor
Age: 16
District: 12
Weapon: His fists, his strength
Personality: He is very aggressive and rude. He never trusts anyone, but is also very honest and straightforward, so he would never betray someone or lie about something. He is stubborn and can't admit mistakes and he is also not very smart or subtle. He is ruthless, even towards his district partner and is very brutal and loud and cruel. He is also arrogant and thinks that he is better than anyone else. He loves violence and to get into fights
Appearance: Tall for his age, short blond hair, blue eyes, very muscular and strong because he worked as a coal miner for years.
Backstory: He comes from one of the richer families of District 12 that always had enough food to eat. Because oft this he was always taller and stronger than other children and he often pushed them around and never had many friends. He works in the mines and often gets into fights with other people from his district.
If there was a song that relates to your characters story, what would it be?:
Hi jan nice to see you here
Accepted
Accepted!
NO MORE SPOTS OPEN!
Wow again just one more person and you could'nt join. You are lucky
YOUY now we know all the people we have to killl........wait
Starting Part 6.
YAY
@TWD_25
I edited my escort a little, sorry.
Ω
Cheyenne Wells: District 10
I wipe the sweat off my brow. My work clothes are caked in dirt and my stomach is growling in hunger. The sun is just beginning to rise over the fields and you can still hear the locust chirp. You think the district that works with livestock wouldn’t be starving all the time, but that’s sadly not the case. I’ve seen people just fall down one day with a bucket of raw meat in their hand. Peacekeepers are harsh here, they catch you eating even just a bite they’ll cut off the hand you used to eat with.
Today, no slaughtering the cows, instead the peacekeepers send my quadrant and I to the pig barn to slaughter them. I really didn’t care for the pigs, the barn always smelled like manure. I struggle to pin the pig down for just a moment and slit it’s throat open. Blood spews out ahead but I manage to keep clean. As always, I try to lift the corpse, but I’m too small to carry it back. Someone helps me carry the thing out.
After my dad died, we got a month’s pension before my mom was expected to get back to work. But that never happened, shortly after his death she got deathly sick, and it took lots of effort for her to just to get out of bed. At nine years old, I started working on the fields. Sometimes milking a cow, sometimes slaughtering them and shipping off to the Capitol. I grew to like the animals but I’m slowly starting to learn not to get too attached anymore.
Usually, I’d have to spend an extra six hours working the in the farmland. The peacekeepers force us. But today was a special day. Any workers, ordered by President Snow, with children or who are between the ages of twelve to eighteen shall be released early. And last month, I turned twelve.
Today I’d head to the footsteps of town hall and watch as one supposedly lucky male and female are given the ‘honor’ of representing district ten in a not so honorable fight to the death.
My name is supposed to be entered one time today because I just turned twelve last month, the age you become eligible, at twelve your name is put in once, at thirteen twice, as so on until you’re eighteen, the last eligible year, when your name is in the pool seven times. But the Capitol’s reaping system is unfair, with the poor always getting the short end of the stick.
Here’s the catch, if you need the food you can opt to add your name into the pool extra times in exchange for tesserae, each time you enter your name you get a modest years supply of grain and oil for one person. You can do this for family members as well. So, my name is entered three times today, one because I have to, the second is for me, and the third is for my mom. But I know that’s not going to help her get better again.
A tub of warm water is there when I get home. I scrub the dirt, grime and sweat out until I’m somewhat decent. I put my hair in nothing more than a ponytail. It’s not as if I could put it in much else, it’s dull, blonde and falls flat with no vibrance when it hangs just slightly past my shoulders.
I change into my reaping clothes, they’re just some working clothes but they double as a reaping outfit since it’s just a pair of jeans and a sleeveless white blouse. Most of the surface stains fade away, but the deep mud stains are still stuck in the white blouses fabric.
I walk to my mom’s bed, lightly shaking her before she wakes up. She doesn’t look so bad today, her sickly pale skin isn’t looking so sick today, but good days are often followed by bad ones.
“You look beautiful.” She manages to sit up. She combs part of my hair that has apparently fallen out of the ponytail and tucks it behind my ear. “Better.” She smiles, which makes me smile back. “When do I not?” I sarcastically reply. I can hear her stomach growl in hunger. It was a good thing for tesserae. But I know that won’t save her.
At two’ o clock, my mom and I head to the town hall. I considered the thought of just hiding in the fields, but that would cause more problems. Not showing up is punishable by death. I’m pushed to the front with the other twelve year olds. Also known as the splash zone because going into the games here is a guarantee of certain death.
“Welcome.” Our escort, bubbly socialite, Hestia Pensworth, blares her over the top Capitol accent through her mic. “And a happy hunger games!” In fact, her entire appearance screams over the top. Silver hair, her faced cakes in white powder, and a dress plucked in vibrant feathers. It looks like she’s trying to be sick.
She gushes about what an honor it is to be district ten’s escort. I’m not sure if she’s lying, she genuinely seems happy. She must be in her own shallow world where she doesn’t know how bad the games really are here. Evident by our one and only victor of district ten sitting on stage, Angus Ford. A stern looking man in his thirties, it was clear how he won, he was a giant at six and a half feet and built like an ox.
It’s time for the drawings. Hestia struts down to the female pool and as she always says “Ladies first!” She digs her hand in, spending a few seconds before choosing which one.
The crowd draws in a collective silence. All hoping it’s not them. My mind pulls away, through the crowd I can notice my mom, coughing her lungs out, holding a rag sprayed in her blood. It’s that, rag, sprayed in her blood that snaps me back. I push my way through the twelve year olds. “I volunteer as tribute!” I gasp.
I can hear the crowds breath taken away, and for good reason. I don’t know if there’s ever been a volunteer in ten, definitely not a twelve year old, that’s for sure. My actions even have our escort, Hestia Pensworth hanging her jaw before she quickly closes it back up.
“W… wonderful! Bravo!” Hestia Pensworth manages to pull out. Angus Ford, our only victor has a questionable look in his green eyes but reluctantly claps. “Well come up dear! Don’t be shy!” She gestures me up the stage. The girl on stage is sobbing, but smiling at the same time. I think she thanks me when I walk up there.
“Aren’t you fearless?” Hestia hands her mic to me. I’m frozen, no words come out my name. I just nod along. “What’s your name?”
“Cheyenne Wells.” I manage to pull out.
“Well, district ten say hello to your newest tribute. Cheyenne Wells!” Hestia heartfully smiles. Few are clapping, mainly the ones holding the betting slips. But some are still shocked, even angry, at my decision, but there was nothing I could do! My mom would be dead in a matter of months, I’ve seen what happens when the orphanage takes you, those sad eyes and malnourished bodies. I wouldn’t let that happen to me or her.
“Time for our male tribute.” Hestia moves on. She draws a paper and heads back to the podium. “Buck Jones!” She cheers.
A boy with short brown hair from the seventeen year old section emerges. He’s fearful, as am I now. When he walks up and stands beside me he’s a complete opposite of me in every physical aspect. He’s at least a foot taller than me and has at least a hundred pounds on me.
“Congratulationas Buck!” Hestia goes in for a hug from Buck, he nearly pushes her off stage, but Hestia somehow manages to not fall overboard, I can hear Angus laughing in the back. Hestia’s apparently silver wig is off centered. Hestia cowers in embarrassment but keeps going. “District ten, your tributes Buck Jones and Cheyenne Wells!” She must be in a hurry to finish things.
We’re rushed into the Justice building. I’ve never seen a place this expensive, mainly because district ten is mainly covered in barns and open fields. I sit down on one of the velvet couches, running my fingers through the expensive fabric before my mom’s escorted in.
She’s in tears when she walks in. “What have you done!” I pause for a few moments, I’m shaken. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done!” She snaps. I can tell she’s angry, because she uses all her strength to stand up straight and fold her arms in an angry manner.
“I was going to win for you.” I tell her but the next part is especially hard. “I don’t want to see you die!” You see, if you’re a victor, you and your family become immediately rich and safe. An expensive house, food is never scarce and most importantly medicine.
“Cheyenne no!” She holds me close, because I’m now sobbing in her floral blouse. “No twelve year old has ever won the games, no twelve year old has ever volunteered!” She sobs along with me until her words become almost incomparable.
We hold each other for the next few moments. Until the peacekeepers barge in the mahogany doors. “Times up.” One hisses.
“Cheyenne I want you to take this.” Her arm is still tense and shaking. Inside her palm was a rabbits foot, she always kept in her pocket for good luck. It was a token, the Capitol will let you wear one thing from your district in the arena, whether it be a locket, a ring, or a pin, as long as it’s not a weapon.
“You said you were, you were…” I can’t finish the next sentence. In the likelihood she dies, she said she wanted to be buried with it. I can’t take it, does she think I’ll die?
[Take rabbits foot] [Decline]
?
[Take rabbits foot] That was so sad
I already love Cheyenne! She's my favorite by far! You did good!
Thanks! @AAA_Jane
[Take rabbits foot]
Wow...that was a good part. Looking forward to more. :P
Oh yeah, sorry.
I was just bored. :P
And I wanted to bump the thread.
And you posted when I bumped it!
Oh, it's all good!
Sorry for bothering you!
.
.
.
[take rabbits foot]
instantly wanting her to win, but at the same time wanting someone else to win...
[Takes Rabbits foot]
Awesome chapter! The feels...
[Decline]
[Take rabbits foot]
Oh god that was sad. Now I'm going to have a significantly harder time rooting for Alara to win, that's for sure.
Starting part 7!
Clementine Baker: District 11
The little shack near the square, that was our house. My older sister, Willow had just walked in. Her head trying to stay high She had taken extra shifts in the field to keep the house.
“You ready?” She asks me, shutting the door behind her.
I pause for a moment. “I just wish mom and dad were here.”
Willow looks at me with a surprised look in her wide set of brown eyes, like mine. I haven’t brought them up since dad died. “Me too kiddo.” She rushes to my side and gives me a hug.
“Just think, they’re looking down on you right now, they’ll keep you safe.” She tells me. Which cheers me up a little.
Willow helps me put my thick brown hair in a bun. She wears mom’s old reaping dress with blue ruffle on it and I wear her hand me downs, some white dress thing that goes down to my knees.
Today’s my first reaping and my sisters last. My name is entered three times today and hers is entered twenty-four. If I keep the pattern going until I’m eighteen my name will be entered fifteen times in the pool.
When the crowd fills up I’m separated from my sister who goes with the other eighteen year old in the back. I clutch my fists for the next few hours to come, the reapings were always painful to watch, even when I wasn’t in them.
At two o’ clock, district eleven’s newest mayor walks up to the stage and begins the mandatory treaty of treason. My dad would’ve been the one reading this today, but I guess not even the mayor is safe from starvation, really says something up district eleven. It’s a long boring spiel about how we lived in a country in ruins once called North America and how it rose from the ashes and became the thriving country we now call Panem, with a rich Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts. Then he lists the dark days, when Panem’s districts rebelled. District thirteen was destroyed and the other twelve were defeated. I’ve learned some of it from my sister, who talks about her hatred for the Capitol any chance she gets.
And then came the treaty of treason, that guaranteed peace at the cost of never repeating the dark days, gave us the Hunger Games.
The man finally concludes his speech and heads back to his seat. Our escort Atheana Dunbryll gets up from her seat and gives a big hearty smile that is most likely a genuine one. Unlike most of the Escorts I’ve seen on televised on the square, Atheana is actually very pretty, it’s only her green dress and black studs that screams Capitol.
“Quite the speech!” She gushes in her odd Capitol accent that’s high pitched with the tone of her voice only going up as she speaks. “Happy Hunger games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!” She cheers, but there’s no clapping, only silence to her embarrassment.
“Let’s begin, as always ladies first!” She tries to get the ball rolling again. Her dainty little fingers delicately dance around the top of the bowl before picking one. I quickly glance over my shoulder and spit Willow biting her lip in the wait. The odds are certainly in her favor of being reaped, I should've put my name in more, she already does so much for me, it's the least I could do.
But it's not Willow Baker.
It's me.
The crowd is in a complete silence, as they always are when a twelve year old is reaped, because no one thinks it’s fair. I fight my legs to move making them mount the steps to the stage.
She can volunteer for me! I think to myself, she must be thinking that because of the look in her eyes.
“Now are there any volunteers?” Atheana asks. The crowd is hushed, so silent you can hear a pin drop.
“Anyone?” Atheana asks again. Through the crowd I can see Willow, her wide set of brown eyes are filled with fear. But her mouth is sewn shut. Wait, no it’s not. She mouths the words, I'm sorry. because here, the games are almost certain death. There’s twenty four tributes and one comes out. I’m not some weapons expert, I’m not two hundred twenty pounds, I’m just tip the scale at seventy pounds and four foot nine, with a limited knowledge of a knife.
The odds are certainly not in my favor.
[Cry] [Stay silent]
I might add the ending of district eleven since this was short. What do you think? Should I? I might start doing that instead.
[Cry]
She can't intimidate the other tributes, that's for sure. I don't think anyone will believe her if she acts tough. But maybe she can win some sponsors if she puts emphasis on her being a poor little girl. As far as I know the capitol people aren't heartless, just extremely ignorant and they might have an oddly soft spot for cute little girls
If you want, you could add a longer ending for D11, given that we haven't seen the D11 male reaping so far.