Tector Ramsey, 14 - District 3
A knock at the door disturbs me and pulls me away from my desk, where I’ve been studying all night. I op… moreen the door and I’m greeted by my mother, who makes a joke about me being up all night, however my thoughts trail from her and to the woman behind her: my tutor.
“Ingrid came early this morning,” my mother announces, “she wanted to talk to you about the reaping...” her voice trails uncomfortably. She leaves me with Ingrid, her brown, curly hair bouncing around as she walks away. Ingrid walks in, pushing her glasses up.
“Ah, working all night?” She smiles as she looks at my desk. I smile weakly and Ingrid sits on the chair by my black, wooden desk. “Right, so, as you know, today is the reaping,” she says, “and you most definitely could get reaped,” she states unemotionally. She runs her hand through her thin, black hair and scratches her chin. “Tector, you’re my favourite student, you could win with yo… [view original content]
Tector Ramsey, 14 - District 3
A knock at the door disturbs me and pulls me away from my desk, where I’ve been studying all night. I op… moreen the door and I’m greeted by my mother, who makes a joke about me being up all night, however my thoughts trail from her and to the woman behind her: my tutor.
“Ingrid came early this morning,” my mother announces, “she wanted to talk to you about the reaping...” her voice trails uncomfortably. She leaves me with Ingrid, her brown, curly hair bouncing around as she walks away. Ingrid walks in, pushing her glasses up.
“Ah, working all night?” She smiles as she looks at my desk. I smile weakly and Ingrid sits on the chair by my black, wooden desk. “Right, so, as you know, today is the reaping,” she says, “and you most definitely could get reaped,” she states unemotionally. She runs her hand through her thin, black hair and scratches her chin. “Tector, you’re my favourite student, you could win with yo… [view original content]
Tector Ramsey, 14 - District 3
A knock at the door disturbs me and pulls me away from my desk, where I’ve been studying all night. I op… moreen the door and I’m greeted by my mother, who makes a joke about me being up all night, however my thoughts trail from her and to the woman behind her: my tutor.
“Ingrid came early this morning,” my mother announces, “she wanted to talk to you about the reaping...” her voice trails uncomfortably. She leaves me with Ingrid, her brown, curly hair bouncing around as she walks away. Ingrid walks in, pushing her glasses up.
“Ah, working all night?” She smiles as she looks at my desk. I smile weakly and Ingrid sits on the chair by my black, wooden desk. “Right, so, as you know, today is the reaping,” she says, “and you most definitely could get reaped,” she states unemotionally. She runs her hand through her thin, black hair and scratches her chin. “Tector, you’re my favourite student, you could win with yo… [view original content]
Tector Ramsey, 14 - District 3
A knock at the door disturbs me and pulls me away from my desk, where I’ve been studying all night. I op… moreen the door and I’m greeted by my mother, who makes a joke about me being up all night, however my thoughts trail from her and to the woman behind her: my tutor.
“Ingrid came early this morning,” my mother announces, “she wanted to talk to you about the reaping...” her voice trails uncomfortably. She leaves me with Ingrid, her brown, curly hair bouncing around as she walks away. Ingrid walks in, pushing her glasses up.
“Ah, working all night?” She smiles as she looks at my desk. I smile weakly and Ingrid sits on the chair by my black, wooden desk. “Right, so, as you know, today is the reaping,” she says, “and you most definitely could get reaped,” she states unemotionally. She runs her hand through her thin, black hair and scratches her chin. “Tector, you’re my favourite student, you could win with yo… [view original content]
Tector Ramsey, 14 - District 3
A knock at the door disturbs me and pulls me away from my desk, where I’ve been studying all night. I op… moreen the door and I’m greeted by my mother, who makes a joke about me being up all night, however my thoughts trail from her and to the woman behind her: my tutor.
“Ingrid came early this morning,” my mother announces, “she wanted to talk to you about the reaping...” her voice trails uncomfortably. She leaves me with Ingrid, her brown, curly hair bouncing around as she walks away. Ingrid walks in, pushing her glasses up.
“Ah, working all night?” She smiles as she looks at my desk. I smile weakly and Ingrid sits on the chair by my black, wooden desk. “Right, so, as you know, today is the reaping,” she says, “and you most definitely could get reaped,” she states unemotionally. She runs her hand through her thin, black hair and scratches her chin. “Tector, you’re my favourite student, you could win with yo… [view original content]
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me slightly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets. Isla’s arms wrap around me and pull me close for a hug and I return it.
“How did I know you guys were going to be here?” I hear Sandy’s voice behind us as she chuckles, “Mom and Dad are still asleep.” I look behind Sandy and see a row of wooden, crooked shacks that people, like me, call a home. My parents are just stereotypical fishers from 4, the lowest paid job, but they always tried to give us everything. Sandy sits to the right of me and the three of us watch the waves crash against the sand and retreat back into the ocean.
“It’s beautiful,” Isla breaks the silence, “I’ll always love it here.” I look at her and she seems hypnotised. I can’t help but notice the dark circles forming under her eyes. Ever since she turned 19, she’s been working more and more to help my parents and I can see it’s taking its toll. I lean my head on her shoulder and she rubs my back soothingly.
“Morg, maybe we should go get ready,” Sandy sadly ponders and I nod my head as she takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. Isla replies that she’ll she at the town square before the reaping and departs. Sandy and I return to our shack.
“What should we wear? Maybe I’ll wear what Isla wore last year,” Sandy says, placing her finger tip on her chin quizzically. I look the small display of clothes before us and I see a white shirt laced with blue frills. “Oh, this skirt would look so cute on you!” squeals Sandy before she takes a knee-length, white skirt from the pile and gives it to me. Then, I decide to take the shirt and starting changing from my pale yellow nightgown. Sandy also chooses to wear some cerulean shorts, a yellow blouse with a pastel green, long cardigan. Once we’ve finished she looks at me and cuddles me and grinning.
We leave our bedroom and in the main room we see our mother, smiling weakly at us. “You’re both so beautiful,” her eyes tear, “let me do your hair, both of you.” Sandy grins greatly and we sit in front of her. My mother braids Sandy’s thick, dirty hair and pins the braids against Sandy’s head in a pretty way and it looks beautiful. She then ties mine into two separate buns, braids some long strands of hair and wraps the braids around the buns. She has made us look gorgeous.
“Patrikz, it’s time for the reaping,” my mother softly speaks into my parent’s room and my father exits out of the room and embraces me and Sandy. His dark unshaven stubble scratches against my forehead. When he pulls away he looks at me and traces the scar on my face with his finger. I look down, my eyebrows twitching. The four of us leave our shack, ready to meet Isla.
“There you are! You two look so stunning,” Isla beams at me and Sandy, “and your hair! Mom, you’re so good,” she smiles and hugs my mother. I see many other families walk to the town square and Sandy and I leave our family to follow the cobbled path to the Justice Hall.
We’re registered in by the Peacekeepers and Sandy squeezes my hand before we separate to our respective sections.
I stare at the stage for a few moments, looking at the range of District 4 victors before Marina and Aquia, two girls who insist I’m their friend, spot and join me. Marina compliments my hair and Aquia plays around with my skirt, informing me that she thinks it’s lovely.
“Listen, Morgan, we’re still your friends, you know...” Marina states, “We understand with what happened, but-”
“You don’t understand!” I snap, “I don’t have or want friends!” I yell before walking away angrily. Thankfully, before either of them can try to calm me, the usual District 4 escort begins. Vadimo Broin is his name. He’s taller, definitely taller than me, and is wearing his usual style of clothing, a bright blazer with striped trousers. He reminds me of Caesar Flickerman; changing the colour yearly.
“Let the District 4 reaping commence!” He announces, tipping his top hat. “Let’s begin with our striking ladies!” Vadimo struts to the reaping bowl, filled with many names. Sandy and my name are just a tiny fraction of the names in there – we won’t be reaped.
His glove-covered hand dives into the bowl and waves his hand around before selecting a slip. He returns to the microphone, slip in hand. “And the female tribute of District 4 is...”
“Morgan Moore!” echoes across the square. My eyes widen in shock and I look around. Marina and Aquia are staring at me in equal shock. I can’t even bear to look at Sandy or Isla or my parents. I slowly walk to the stage, uncomfortable with all the faces staring at me.
“Congratulations!” Vadimo says as I reach the stage, “And the male tribute is...” his voice rises towards the end as he comically walks to the boy’s bowl. He hastily snatches a name out and returns to the bowl.
“Salman Queous!” However, another boy interrupts them, shouting that he wants to volunteers. A boy with curly hair, tanned skin and noticeable green eyes exits the crowd. He smirks at the cameras and jogs to the stage. “Oh, what’s your name, then?”
“Aaron Velliedeen,” he charmingly smiles and I clench my fists in annoyance. He just showed me up completely, with his charming smile and relaxed nature. I look pathetic with how I reacted.
“I present to you, the tributes of District 4 for the 51st Annual Hunger Games!” Vadimo finishes and there is some applause from the other teenagers as well as the parents at the back. Sandy looks at me apologetically and my mother is sobbing into my father’s neck.
“Hey, listen,” Aaron whispers to me, “ wanna be allies?” He asks, looking directly at the crowd, smiling.
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Very good part! I liked Morgan a lot here, looking forward for more of her The story in general gets even better and better with every part, you are an awesome writer!
[Yes]
It can't be bad for her to have an ally and I suppose there are worse allies than her district partner.
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Very good part! I liked Morgan a lot here, looking forward for more of her The story in general gets even better and better with every part… more, you are an awesome writer!
[Yes]
It can't be bad for her to have an ally and I suppose there are worse allies than her district partner.
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me sli… moreghtly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets… [view original content]
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter my eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the skirt on. I decide to fashion white, knee-high socks as well as black ballet shoes. I turn my head to the mirror and gaze at myself. The girl staring back at me looks child-like: from my petite body frame and small height, it’s as though I stopped growing when I was 12.
My mother’s knock on the door startles me and I open it, inviting her back in. “Adorable, you are beautiful,” she says, untucking my hair from the blouse, “how shall we do your hair this year?” I shrug my shoulders in response and avoid looking at her. My mother is strikingly beautiful. She has curvy hips and is much taller than me. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she starts, “your father is at the Justice Hall with a few other workers. They’re trying to raise the pay of the lower-ranked workers.” My father is such an honourable man, so thoughtful and caring. I wish I was like him.
My mother runs her fingers through my hair, admiring it. “I wanted my hair this length as a child,” she smiles, “you’re very lucky,” she chuckles, kissing my forehead. “How about, this year, you keep your hair down, letting it flow.” Hesitantly, I agree. My mother then hands me a thin piece of cloth. “I wore this when I was 16,” she says, tying it around my neck like a scarf.
Taking my hand, my mother leads me down the stairs and into the kitchen. She hands me some fruit and asks me to eat it. This fruit is probably the most expensive food we own, so I am tentative to eat it. My mother encourages me to do so and that the only reason she bought it was for this day. I bite into the apple, juice filling my mouth and I smile shyly at my mother, slightly guilty that she spent so much on this.
After I finished it, we exit out of our house. Outside, I can hear the sound of crashing water. It is the hydroelectric plant, the one my parents work at. As me and my mother walk to the town square, we walk past a wind farm and the turbines make a loud whirring noise. I remember running past these all the time as a child, imitating them.
Once we arrive at the town square, my mother lightly pecks my cheek and hugs me. Separating from my mother, the Peacekeepers sign me in and I stand alone. I look around me and feel paranoid, that everyone is chatting about me. A group of girls in particular throw their glances at me, muttering.
“Welcome, District 5,” the escort yells into the microphone, ceasing all talk, “today is the day of the reaping for the 51st Hunger Games; I hope you’re all ready!” She says eagerly. Behind her are the victors, gormless and moody. How could they be so sad?
“How about we start with the males?” She asks patronisingly, “Alrighty, then.” She skitters across the stage giddily, almost humorously. Her hand circles the bowl before dipping her hand in, she takes out a slip and walks back to the microphone. “And our male tribute is...” She says, concentrating on unravelling the piece of paper. I wonder who the unfortunate boy is.
“Gia Draxelle!” She reveals. It takes a moment for me to register what has happened. That’s me. But I am a girl; maybe there’s a boy with an identical name. Nobody walks up to the stage, however. The mayor appears by the escort and whispers in her ear. It’s comical how normal he looks in comparison to her.
“Sorry, folks, that was the female tribute!” She nervously laughs, waiting for someone to starting walking. Hot, stinging tears blur my vision and I begin breathing heavily and quickly. Peacekeepers appear by my side and drag me to the stage and I can’t focus because I’m hyperventilating.
“Welcome, Gia,” the escort says to me, but I don’t response, I can’t even focus. “Now, to the male tribute,” her laugh is nervous again, probably as nervous as me.
“David Nukelor!” She announces and I see a boy begin walking to the stage, confidence with every stride he takes. I recognise him, his family is very rich and I recall him and a few of his friends being caught training in an abandoned factory.
“Congratulations to Gia and David, the tributes from District 5!” Our escort hollers cheerfully, her arm pressed to our backs. She leads us into the Justice Hall and we’re followed by the victors and the mayor. My mother and father will come see me soon to say their goodbyes and I’m terrified to do so.
Inside, a Peacekeeper stops the mayor and I overhear him, “we executed them, the protesters.” I start panicking again, what if my father is dead, what if they killed him?
[Resist and find out][Continue and forget about it]
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter … moremy eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the sk… [view original content]
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter … moremy eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the sk… [view original content]
[Resist and find out] Your writing is really good, but I've noticed the reaping themselves are really short. I hope I don't offend you but I think your writing would be even better if you go into greater detail during the reapings.
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter … moremy eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the sk… [view original content]
This would be something I would do in her situation. I think not knowing her father's fate could influence her in a negative way. Despite, she is already reaped, I doubt the peacekeepers will kill her for this insubordination.
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter … moremy eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the sk… [view original content]
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter … moremy eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the sk… [view original content]
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter … moremy eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the sk… [view original content]
Appeareance: bald head , blue eyes , a little fat , fair skin.
Backstory: His parents never cared about him and his brother Rye , and when they died he didn´t feel anything. He stole with Rye to live , but people voted Rye for that for the 25th Hunger Games. As Harvey saw him get tortured by the girl from 12 , he went depressed and mad. Wjen he heard people talking how Rye deserved that , he killed someone out of anger and went to jail. He could volunteered to the 27th hunger games and he did , but he doesn´t kmow why exactly. He was asked by the careers to join them and he did. He brutally killed the girl from 12 in the bloobath (just 12 year old) , but when hunting for tributes with the leader of the pack , he got mad when he (the leader) killed the boy from 12 himself. He killed him , causing the careers to split up. He hid for the rest of the games until he won. People in the district don´t like. He knows he is crazy and wants to handle it , but can´t
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter … moremy eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the sk… [view original content]
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. Outside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behind me, I hear some of the wood crack and hastily leave before my father realises.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this cruel, unforgiving life, but I just have to deal with it. As I walk I feel my matted hair stick to my forehead. I haven’t been able to shower for the last month thanks to my parent. Their dealer cut the water because of how far back they are with their payment. I don’t even want to imagine how I smell and luckily I don’t have to thanks to the constant scent of burning from the factories.
To my left I see a man push a crippled woman over and I try to forget about it; she’s likely put herself in that position, like my parents. But then again, what if she is innocent and he’s just taking his anger out of someone more submissive? I approach the man, relatively stealthily and hook my foot around his ankle before pushing him. Brutality isn’t my favourite thing, I prefer getting back at someone less obviously. I give the bedraggled woman a slight nod and leave her.
Continuing down the concrete path, littered with glass shards and crumpled paper, I soon find myself at my desired destination. Doctor Ewell’s illegal doctor’s practice - he helps the people like me, like that woman and most importantly: my sister.
I walk in and Doctor Ewell welcomes me and updates me on Astra’s condition, stating that there haven’t been any signs of improvement since yesterday. I squint my eyes disappointedly, but nevertheless, continue to my sister’s room. Immediately, I recognise the familiar beep of her heart monitor. Sitting on the uncomfortable, teal chair, I sigh heavily. I suppose I can be thankful I don’t have to worry about Astra at the reaping, the Capitol excuse her due to her condition. However they think she is at home, rather than the highly illegal doctor’s.
Dr Ewell knocks at the door and his disheartened expressions tells me exactly what I predicted. “Listen, Charon, I can’t keep Astra here much longer, she is taking a lot of my medication and she’s just not improving. You have to take her to the proper hospital and see what they can do,” his voice drops, “I’m sorry.” I grit my teeth and nod understandingly. Dr Ewell leaves and I gaze at my sister’s seemingly lifeless body. Her hair is less brown than mine, hers is auburn and fiery, just like she used to be and her skin is noticeably paler, probably due to her being in a coma. I know what I have to do to get her treatment.
Hastily, after a goodbye to my sister, I thank Dr Ewell and depart. I rush towards the town square, but it appears I’m early – the Peacekeepers and cameramen aren’t even there. The town square is the only nice thing in District 6. The buildings surrounding it are covered in pink flowers and wild fern. There used to be a stone fountain, but it was demolished due it being impractical for the reaping. A shadow begins to appear and I look up.
Overhead is the hovercraft that contains the escort and cameramen. Several Peacekeepers appear and stare at me. I understand, why would a District 6 citizen creep around the town square?
“I don’t care what happened in District 5! For all I care, the girl could have killed the Peacekeeper! What I do care about, however, is the fact I have to speed up my reaping because they couldn’t control some poor girl!” I overhear. I turn my head and see District 6’s infamous escort, Laurtie McCharpe, jab her finger in some unfortunate man’s chest. She pivots on her shoe’s heel, her curly, rose hair whipping the man in the face as she turns.
District’s 6 three victors, Volk, Fiona and Edford, soon appear on the stage with the mayor. He kisses goodbye to a young girl, presumably his daughter and she walks to the Peacekeepers where they prick her finger and allow her to stand in the velvet-roped sector for 14 year olds. Smirking, I walk over to the Peacekeepers and they likewise prick me. I, however, stand in the 18 year old sector. It isn’t long till the square is almost full of potential tributes, most look pathetic and scared.
“Welcome, citizens of District 6,” the mayor speaks into the microphone, silencing everyone, “today begins the start of the 51st Hunger Games and how thankful we are for all the Capitol has done,” his voice sounds dreary and insincere, which it probably is. “We are especially proud of our past victors: Volk, victor of the 16th Hunger Games, Fiona, victor of the 26th Hunger Games and Edford, victor of the 30th Hunger Games.” His tone makes it sound more like that he pities them and rightfully so. Edford and Fiona are both hooked up on morphling and their paranoia as the cameras focus on them makes it obvious. On the other hand, Volk is addicted to alcohol and I notice him taking small swigs from a shiny, silver bottle which he is trying to discreetly hide.
“I will now pass you onto District 6’s escort, Laurtie McCharpe.” Laurtie thanks him and welcomes everyone, as if we haven’t heard it already. Her hips bulge out through her tight magenta dress and her hair is loose ringlets, reaching to her torso and it’s her normal rose colour.
“Let’s begin this reaping then!” She squeaks and I flinch every time she speaks because her voice is unnaturally high. She trails to the glass ball containing the thousand of slips. I smirk at her pace, it’s as though she is purposely going to slow to lengthen the reaping. Perhaps she isn’t as bland as I misinterpreted.
She curls a finger around her lip once she reaches the bowl and hums questionably and I’m almost biting my lip at her humour. Dipping her hand into the bowl, she rummages around for 30 seconds, switching her glance from the cameras to the cameraman she prodded earlier, a devious smile stretched across her face.
After finally selecting a name, she sashays back to the microphone, her hips swaying. Just before she reads out the name, I hear a few people surrounding me draw their breath in anticipation. I’m unaffected because I know the outcome. Whether it’s my name or not – I know I’m going to be the tribute.
“Aero Railley!” Laurtie reveals and a boy only a few spaces away from me gasps and begins breathing heavily. I avert my eyes back to Laurtie and raise my hand.
“I volunteer,” I sound calm, just as I expected. Leaving my place, I walk towards the stage, my usual smirk on my face, returning the glances that everyone is giving me. Laurtie reaches out her hand and invites me to the stage. Her hand is still outstretched and I ignore it as I climb the stairs. “My name is Charon Malgus.”
“Fantastic,” Laurtie grins, clapping and some of the other citizens applaud too, not that I care. All I can think about it winning and being able to pay for Astra’s treatment. “Carrying on,” I hear Laurtie speak to everyone else. My mind wanders to being able to see Astra walking and breathing on her own. I imagine her without being dependent on a machine.
Gasps surround me and I snap back into reality. I look at Laurtie and her smile drops slightly at the negative reception of whoever the female tribute is. Girls separate, creating a walkway for whoever it is.
The mayor’s daughter. Her face is drained of blood and she’s almost as pale as Astra. Her right arm wraps around her body and she holds onto her left arm timidly. She walks stiffly, her steps slow. Perhaps she is waiting for a volunteer, but no one comes to her rescue. She is truly unlucky. She mustn’t have had her name in there many times, not nearly as many as other girls, but she was still reaped. On the stage, she looks at her feet weakly.
“I present to you the District 6 tributes for the 51st Hunger Games – Charon Malgus and Lucy Maskell!” There is a weak applause from the crowd and we walk in, followed by Laurtie, the victors and the mayor. Lucy and I are led into different rooms and I can hear Lucy sob. At least she has someone who is going to visit her... I have no one.
In the room next to me I hear her bawling and screaming, presumably to her parents. Maybe I should check on her.
[Leave and comfort Lucy][Stay and see if Charon’s parents appear]
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. O… moreutside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behi… [view original content]
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. O… moreutside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behi… [view original content]
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. O… moreutside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behi… [view original content]
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. O… moreutside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behi… [view original content]
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. O… moreutside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behi… [view original content]
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. O… moreutside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behi… [view original content]
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. O… moreutside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behi… [view original content]
Comments
[Walk to the stage]
[Hide in the crowd]
[Walk to the stage]
They'll find you and catch you eventually.
[Hide in the crowd]
[Walk to the stage] they'll find him. If he doesn't walk up there and tries to blend in the crowd he'll look like a complete idiot
Morgan Moore, 16 - District 4
Exiting out of my house, I walk bare-footed to the nearest beach. My light brown hair whips behind me slightly due to the calm breeze. Once I reach the beach, I sit, running my tanned fingers through the sand.
“Hey, Morg,” Isla approaches me from behind. I startled when I first heard the voice, but as my sister’s comforting hand touched my shoulder I relaxed. “Are you nervous?” She politely enquires, a sincere smile on her face. “I already spoke to Sandy and of course how nervous she is, with it being her last year.”
I nod understandingly. My oldest sister, Isla, is 19 and free from the Games, she’ll live the rest of her life only worrying about her children, if she chooses to have any. However, Sandy, my other sister, is 18, so this will be her last year. I look at my sister and her big, blue eyes are looking back at mine. If Isla, Sandy and I were the same height, people would assume we were triplets. Isla’s arms wrap around me and pull me close for a hug and I return it.
“How did I know you guys were going to be here?” I hear Sandy’s voice behind us as she chuckles, “Mom and Dad are still asleep.” I look behind Sandy and see a row of wooden, crooked shacks that people, like me, call a home. My parents are just stereotypical fishers from 4, the lowest paid job, but they always tried to give us everything. Sandy sits to the right of me and the three of us watch the waves crash against the sand and retreat back into the ocean.
“It’s beautiful,” Isla breaks the silence, “I’ll always love it here.” I look at her and she seems hypnotised. I can’t help but notice the dark circles forming under her eyes. Ever since she turned 19, she’s been working more and more to help my parents and I can see it’s taking its toll. I lean my head on her shoulder and she rubs my back soothingly.
“Morg, maybe we should go get ready,” Sandy sadly ponders and I nod my head as she takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. Isla replies that she’ll she at the town square before the reaping and departs. Sandy and I return to our shack.
“What should we wear? Maybe I’ll wear what Isla wore last year,” Sandy says, placing her finger tip on her chin quizzically. I look the small display of clothes before us and I see a white shirt laced with blue frills. “Oh, this skirt would look so cute on you!” squeals Sandy before she takes a knee-length, white skirt from the pile and gives it to me. Then, I decide to take the shirt and starting changing from my pale yellow nightgown. Sandy also chooses to wear some cerulean shorts, a yellow blouse with a pastel green, long cardigan. Once we’ve finished she looks at me and cuddles me and grinning.
We leave our bedroom and in the main room we see our mother, smiling weakly at us. “You’re both so beautiful,” her eyes tear, “let me do your hair, both of you.” Sandy grins greatly and we sit in front of her. My mother braids Sandy’s thick, dirty hair and pins the braids against Sandy’s head in a pretty way and it looks beautiful. She then ties mine into two separate buns, braids some long strands of hair and wraps the braids around the buns. She has made us look gorgeous.
“Patrikz, it’s time for the reaping,” my mother softly speaks into my parent’s room and my father exits out of the room and embraces me and Sandy. His dark unshaven stubble scratches against my forehead. When he pulls away he looks at me and traces the scar on my face with his finger. I look down, my eyebrows twitching. The four of us leave our shack, ready to meet Isla.
“There you are! You two look so stunning,” Isla beams at me and Sandy, “and your hair! Mom, you’re so good,” she smiles and hugs my mother. I see many other families walk to the town square and Sandy and I leave our family to follow the cobbled path to the Justice Hall.
We’re registered in by the Peacekeepers and Sandy squeezes my hand before we separate to our respective sections.
I stare at the stage for a few moments, looking at the range of District 4 victors before Marina and Aquia, two girls who insist I’m their friend, spot and join me. Marina compliments my hair and Aquia plays around with my skirt, informing me that she thinks it’s lovely.
“Listen, Morgan, we’re still your friends, you know...” Marina states, “We understand with what happened, but-”
“You don’t understand!” I snap, “I don’t have or want friends!” I yell before walking away angrily. Thankfully, before either of them can try to calm me, the usual District 4 escort begins. Vadimo Broin is his name. He’s taller, definitely taller than me, and is wearing his usual style of clothing, a bright blazer with striped trousers. He reminds me of Caesar Flickerman; changing the colour yearly.
“Let the District 4 reaping commence!” He announces, tipping his top hat. “Let’s begin with our striking ladies!” Vadimo struts to the reaping bowl, filled with many names. Sandy and my name are just a tiny fraction of the names in there – we won’t be reaped.
His glove-covered hand dives into the bowl and waves his hand around before selecting a slip. He returns to the microphone, slip in hand. “And the female tribute of District 4 is...”
“Morgan Moore!” echoes across the square. My eyes widen in shock and I look around. Marina and Aquia are staring at me in equal shock. I can’t even bear to look at Sandy or Isla or my parents. I slowly walk to the stage, uncomfortable with all the faces staring at me.
“Congratulations!” Vadimo says as I reach the stage, “And the male tribute is...” his voice rises towards the end as he comically walks to the boy’s bowl. He hastily snatches a name out and returns to the bowl.
“Salman Queous!” However, another boy interrupts them, shouting that he wants to volunteers. A boy with curly hair, tanned skin and noticeable green eyes exits the crowd. He smirks at the cameras and jogs to the stage. “Oh, what’s your name, then?”
“Aaron Velliedeen,” he charmingly smiles and I clench my fists in annoyance. He just showed me up completely, with his charming smile and relaxed nature. I look pathetic with how I reacted.
“I present to you, the tributes of District 4 for the 51st Annual Hunger Games!” Vadimo finishes and there is some applause from the other teenagers as well as the parents at the back. Sandy looks at me apologetically and my mother is sobbing into my father’s neck.
“Hey, listen,” Aaron whispers to me, “ wanna be allies?” He asks, looking directly at the crowd, smiling.
[Yes] [No] [Ignore him]
[Yes]
Very good part! I liked Morgan a lot here, looking forward for more of her
The story in general gets even better and better with every part, you are an awesome writer!
[Yes]
It can't be bad for her to have an ally and I suppose there are worse allies than her district partner.
[Yes]
Awesome part!
Thank you so much!
[Yes]
[Yes]
[Yes]
Allies are good. So was this chapter. Great chapter!
Posting for @ualexen92
"my vote is [Yes]
Helion Sinheras song
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmI_Ndrxy14#start=0:00;end=2:50;cycles=-1;autoreplay=true
And Yuko is perfect
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIHq893AFew#start=0:00;end=2:50;cycles=-1;autoreplay=true
all my votes are here
http://pastebin.com/vgz6aGM4
just to check"
[Yes]
Could i make a mentor for D9? and D1?
[Yes]
[Yes]
Sure!
Gia Draxelle, 16 - District 5
“Gia, sweetie,” I hear, “it’s time to wake up,” my mother’s comforting voice echoes around me. I flutter my eyes and see her gentle smile looking down at me. “Hi, darling,” she strokes my arm softly, “let’s get you ready for today.”
I sit up in my bed and hug my mother. Across the room, I see she has already chosen my clothes and I’m truly grateful. I remember when I was 13 and I broke down from the pressure of having to look perfect for the Capitol. My mother is the only person who honestly understands me.
“I chose this blouse and skirt, are they okay?” She calmly asks me. I stare at the coral blouse and maroon pleated skirt. Nodding my head, I embrace my mother again. “You’ll be alright, Gia.”
My mother leaves momentarily, allowing me to change. Closing my eyes, scared, I reach for the blouse and pull it over my head. It’s cool against my skin as I haven’t worn it for months. Then, I slide the skirt on. I decide to fashion white, knee-high socks as well as black ballet shoes. I turn my head to the mirror and gaze at myself. The girl staring back at me looks child-like: from my petite body frame and small height, it’s as though I stopped growing when I was 12.
My mother’s knock on the door startles me and I open it, inviting her back in. “Adorable, you are beautiful,” she says, untucking my hair from the blouse, “how shall we do your hair this year?” I shrug my shoulders in response and avoid looking at her. My mother is strikingly beautiful. She has curvy hips and is much taller than me. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she starts, “your father is at the Justice Hall with a few other workers. They’re trying to raise the pay of the lower-ranked workers.” My father is such an honourable man, so thoughtful and caring. I wish I was like him.
My mother runs her fingers through my hair, admiring it. “I wanted my hair this length as a child,” she smiles, “you’re very lucky,” she chuckles, kissing my forehead. “How about, this year, you keep your hair down, letting it flow.” Hesitantly, I agree. My mother then hands me a thin piece of cloth. “I wore this when I was 16,” she says, tying it around my neck like a scarf.
Taking my hand, my mother leads me down the stairs and into the kitchen. She hands me some fruit and asks me to eat it. This fruit is probably the most expensive food we own, so I am tentative to eat it. My mother encourages me to do so and that the only reason she bought it was for this day. I bite into the apple, juice filling my mouth and I smile shyly at my mother, slightly guilty that she spent so much on this.
After I finished it, we exit out of our house. Outside, I can hear the sound of crashing water. It is the hydroelectric plant, the one my parents work at. As me and my mother walk to the town square, we walk past a wind farm and the turbines make a loud whirring noise. I remember running past these all the time as a child, imitating them.
Once we arrive at the town square, my mother lightly pecks my cheek and hugs me. Separating from my mother, the Peacekeepers sign me in and I stand alone. I look around me and feel paranoid, that everyone is chatting about me. A group of girls in particular throw their glances at me, muttering.
“Welcome, District 5,” the escort yells into the microphone, ceasing all talk, “today is the day of the reaping for the 51st Hunger Games; I hope you’re all ready!” She says eagerly. Behind her are the victors, gormless and moody. How could they be so sad?
“How about we start with the males?” She asks patronisingly, “Alrighty, then.” She skitters across the stage giddily, almost humorously. Her hand circles the bowl before dipping her hand in, she takes out a slip and walks back to the microphone. “And our male tribute is...” She says, concentrating on unravelling the piece of paper. I wonder who the unfortunate boy is.
“Gia Draxelle!” She reveals. It takes a moment for me to register what has happened. That’s me. But I am a girl; maybe there’s a boy with an identical name. Nobody walks up to the stage, however. The mayor appears by the escort and whispers in her ear. It’s comical how normal he looks in comparison to her.
“Sorry, folks, that was the female tribute!” She nervously laughs, waiting for someone to starting walking. Hot, stinging tears blur my vision and I begin breathing heavily and quickly. Peacekeepers appear by my side and drag me to the stage and I can’t focus because I’m hyperventilating.
“Welcome, Gia,” the escort says to me, but I don’t response, I can’t even focus. “Now, to the male tribute,” her laugh is nervous again, probably as nervous as me.
“David Nukelor!” She announces and I see a boy begin walking to the stage, confidence with every stride he takes. I recognise him, his family is very rich and I recall him and a few of his friends being caught training in an abandoned factory.
“Congratulations to Gia and David, the tributes from District 5!” Our escort hollers cheerfully, her arm pressed to our backs. She leads us into the Justice Hall and we’re followed by the victors and the mayor. My mother and father will come see me soon to say their goodbyes and I’m terrified to do so.
Inside, a Peacekeeper stops the mayor and I overhear him, “we executed them, the protesters.” I start panicking again, what if my father is dead, what if they killed him?
[Resist and find out] [Continue and forget about it]
[Resist and find out]
[Continue and forget about it]
[Resist and find out] Your writing is really good, but I've noticed the reaping themselves are really short. I hope I don't offend you but I think your writing would be even better if you go into greater detail during the reapings.
[Resist and find out]
This would be something I would do in her situation. I think not knowing her father's fate could influence her in a negative way. Despite, she is already reaped, I doubt the peacekeepers will kill her for this insubordination.
Resist and find out
[Resist and find out]
Mentor for nine
Name: Harvey Miller
Age: 42 (18 when he won)
Appeareance: bald head , blue eyes , a little fat , fair skin.
Backstory: His parents never cared about him and his brother Rye , and when they died he didn´t feel anything. He stole with Rye to live , but people voted Rye for that for the 25th Hunger Games. As Harvey saw him get tortured by the girl from 12 , he went depressed and mad. Wjen he heard people talking how Rye deserved that , he killed someone out of anger and went to jail. He could volunteered to the 27th hunger games and he did , but he doesn´t kmow why exactly. He was asked by the careers to join them and he did. He brutally killed the girl from 12 in the bloobath (just 12 year old) , but when hunting for tributes with the leader of the pack , he got mad when he (the leader) killed the boy from 12 himself. He killed him , causing the careers to split up. He hid for the rest of the games until he won. People in the district don´t like. He knows he is crazy and wants to handle it , but can´t
Sorry everyone but I can't get the District 6 reaping out today!
No worries. Take your time. Its all cool, were a patient bunch.
[Resist and find out]
It´s okay. I understand
Charon Malgus, 18 - District 6
Another restless, prolonged night ends as I watch the sun slowly ascend above the neighbouring houses. Outside of my room I can hear the mumbling of my parents, doing their usual dose morphling. I procrastinate, not wanting to see my parents during this disgusting time. My eyes wonder to outside, where a few bodies are crumpled on the ground asleep. I’ll give my parents that; at least they gave me a roof over my head.
I pull on a yellow, dirty shirt and don’t bother changing my ripped jeans. Taking a deep breath, I open my door and see my parents scurry around the make-shift table. “Morning, sweetie,” my mother greets me. My mother must have been very pretty as a youth, but the drug ruined her appearance and life. However, my father doesn’t greet me and I’m thankful. Littered on the floor, by his feet I see a discarded syringe and roll my eyes before storming out the house, slamming the wooden door. Behind me, I hear some of the wood crack and hastily leave before my father realises.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this cruel, unforgiving life, but I just have to deal with it. As I walk I feel my matted hair stick to my forehead. I haven’t been able to shower for the last month thanks to my parent. Their dealer cut the water because of how far back they are with their payment. I don’t even want to imagine how I smell and luckily I don’t have to thanks to the constant scent of burning from the factories.
To my left I see a man push a crippled woman over and I try to forget about it; she’s likely put herself in that position, like my parents. But then again, what if she is innocent and he’s just taking his anger out of someone more submissive? I approach the man, relatively stealthily and hook my foot around his ankle before pushing him. Brutality isn’t my favourite thing, I prefer getting back at someone less obviously. I give the bedraggled woman a slight nod and leave her.
Continuing down the concrete path, littered with glass shards and crumpled paper, I soon find myself at my desired destination. Doctor Ewell’s illegal doctor’s practice - he helps the people like me, like that woman and most importantly: my sister.
I walk in and Doctor Ewell welcomes me and updates me on Astra’s condition, stating that there haven’t been any signs of improvement since yesterday. I squint my eyes disappointedly, but nevertheless, continue to my sister’s room. Immediately, I recognise the familiar beep of her heart monitor. Sitting on the uncomfortable, teal chair, I sigh heavily. I suppose I can be thankful I don’t have to worry about Astra at the reaping, the Capitol excuse her due to her condition. However they think she is at home, rather than the highly illegal doctor’s.
Dr Ewell knocks at the door and his disheartened expressions tells me exactly what I predicted. “Listen, Charon, I can’t keep Astra here much longer, she is taking a lot of my medication and she’s just not improving. You have to take her to the proper hospital and see what they can do,” his voice drops, “I’m sorry.” I grit my teeth and nod understandingly. Dr Ewell leaves and I gaze at my sister’s seemingly lifeless body. Her hair is less brown than mine, hers is auburn and fiery, just like she used to be and her skin is noticeably paler, probably due to her being in a coma. I know what I have to do to get her treatment.
Hastily, after a goodbye to my sister, I thank Dr Ewell and depart. I rush towards the town square, but it appears I’m early – the Peacekeepers and cameramen aren’t even there. The town square is the only nice thing in District 6. The buildings surrounding it are covered in pink flowers and wild fern. There used to be a stone fountain, but it was demolished due it being impractical for the reaping. A shadow begins to appear and I look up.
Overhead is the hovercraft that contains the escort and cameramen. Several Peacekeepers appear and stare at me. I understand, why would a District 6 citizen creep around the town square?
“I don’t care what happened in District 5! For all I care, the girl could have killed the Peacekeeper! What I do care about, however, is the fact I have to speed up my reaping because they couldn’t control some poor girl!” I overhear. I turn my head and see District 6’s infamous escort, Laurtie McCharpe, jab her finger in some unfortunate man’s chest. She pivots on her shoe’s heel, her curly, rose hair whipping the man in the face as she turns.
District’s 6 three victors, Volk, Fiona and Edford, soon appear on the stage with the mayor. He kisses goodbye to a young girl, presumably his daughter and she walks to the Peacekeepers where they prick her finger and allow her to stand in the velvet-roped sector for 14 year olds. Smirking, I walk over to the Peacekeepers and they likewise prick me. I, however, stand in the 18 year old sector. It isn’t long till the square is almost full of potential tributes, most look pathetic and scared.
“Welcome, citizens of District 6,” the mayor speaks into the microphone, silencing everyone, “today begins the start of the 51st Hunger Games and how thankful we are for all the Capitol has done,” his voice sounds dreary and insincere, which it probably is. “We are especially proud of our past victors: Volk, victor of the 16th Hunger Games, Fiona, victor of the 26th Hunger Games and Edford, victor of the 30th Hunger Games.” His tone makes it sound more like that he pities them and rightfully so. Edford and Fiona are both hooked up on morphling and their paranoia as the cameras focus on them makes it obvious. On the other hand, Volk is addicted to alcohol and I notice him taking small swigs from a shiny, silver bottle which he is trying to discreetly hide.
“I will now pass you onto District 6’s escort, Laurtie McCharpe.” Laurtie thanks him and welcomes everyone, as if we haven’t heard it already. Her hips bulge out through her tight magenta dress and her hair is loose ringlets, reaching to her torso and it’s her normal rose colour.
“Let’s begin this reaping then!” She squeaks and I flinch every time she speaks because her voice is unnaturally high. She trails to the glass ball containing the thousand of slips. I smirk at her pace, it’s as though she is purposely going to slow to lengthen the reaping. Perhaps she isn’t as bland as I misinterpreted.
She curls a finger around her lip once she reaches the bowl and hums questionably and I’m almost biting my lip at her humour. Dipping her hand into the bowl, she rummages around for 30 seconds, switching her glance from the cameras to the cameraman she prodded earlier, a devious smile stretched across her face.
After finally selecting a name, she sashays back to the microphone, her hips swaying. Just before she reads out the name, I hear a few people surrounding me draw their breath in anticipation. I’m unaffected because I know the outcome. Whether it’s my name or not – I know I’m going to be the tribute.
“Aero Railley!” Laurtie reveals and a boy only a few spaces away from me gasps and begins breathing heavily. I avert my eyes back to Laurtie and raise my hand.
“I volunteer,” I sound calm, just as I expected. Leaving my place, I walk towards the stage, my usual smirk on my face, returning the glances that everyone is giving me. Laurtie reaches out her hand and invites me to the stage. Her hand is still outstretched and I ignore it as I climb the stairs. “My name is Charon Malgus.”
“Fantastic,” Laurtie grins, clapping and some of the other citizens applaud too, not that I care. All I can think about it winning and being able to pay for Astra’s treatment. “Carrying on,” I hear Laurtie speak to everyone else. My mind wanders to being able to see Astra walking and breathing on her own. I imagine her without being dependent on a machine.
Gasps surround me and I snap back into reality. I look at Laurtie and her smile drops slightly at the negative reception of whoever the female tribute is. Girls separate, creating a walkway for whoever it is.
The mayor’s daughter. Her face is drained of blood and she’s almost as pale as Astra. Her right arm wraps around her body and she holds onto her left arm timidly. She walks stiffly, her steps slow. Perhaps she is waiting for a volunteer, but no one comes to her rescue. She is truly unlucky. She mustn’t have had her name in there many times, not nearly as many as other girls, but she was still reaped. On the stage, she looks at her feet weakly.
“I present to you the District 6 tributes for the 51st Hunger Games – Charon Malgus and Lucy Maskell!” There is a weak applause from the crowd and we walk in, followed by Laurtie, the victors and the mayor. Lucy and I are led into different rooms and I can hear Lucy sob. At least she has someone who is going to visit her... I have no one.
In the room next to me I hear her bawling and screaming, presumably to her parents. Maybe I should check on her.
[Leave and comfort Lucy] [Stay and see if Charon’s parents appear]
[Stay and see if Charon's parents appear] We'll have time to comfort her during the train ride. Great Chapter!
[Leave and comfort Lucy] his parents are real douches anyway.
[Leave and comfort Lucy] His parents´s are morplhing so nope
Awesome Chapter
[Leave and comfort Lucy]
I wouldn't count on his morphling parents to appear. I'm not even sure if they realize that he's been reaped.
[Leave and comfort Lucy]
[Leave and comfort Lucy] I just realised I was unfollowed from this post
sorry!
[Leave and comfort Lucy]
http://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/94700/the-1st-annual-hunger-games-a-fan-fiction