Games That Never End

▪──── ⚔Cross Your Fingers⚔────▪

It was that fateful day again, the day the children of Penam must pay the debt of their ancestors with the blood of their brothers and sisters. A 15-year-old boy looked in the mirror, looking over his dirty face, cringing at the ridiculous yellow pants he wore and the more brown then white dress shirt that looked far too big at the shoulders. He was small, that was no doubt, he often wondered if he could pass for 11; and miss just one more year before he marched to the gallows.
His sister, a girl with brown hair and big brown eyes, looked into the mirror beside him. She was even smaller than he was, whether it was malnutrition or genetics they couldn't tell, she used a hand to attempt to wipe the dirt from her pale face. The boy placed a hand around his sister's shoulder, his face that held a look of complete and utter hopelessness only seconds before, shown in a bright toothy smile as he looked down at the girl.
"Don't worry Sunny! You've still got 2 beautiful years left before we have to walk together."
The girl, Sunny, smiled back up at her brother holding his hand as they walked out the door and into the streets. The barren road that used to bussel with trade and conversation was always eerily silent on this day. The two siblings walked side by side, before having to separate their hands still reaching for the comfort of family. The blonde boy approached a line of young boys his age, many of which he recognized as his friends or kids he went to school with. He stepped in line and was then followed by another child, a boy with dark skin but bright blue eyes. The blonde turned to face him, the blue eyed boy was named Robb. The boy remembered him from the reaping last year, they had stood in line next to each other then too.
"Feeling lucky this year Tiny?"
The boy, Robb, asked in a playful tone. The blonde boy laughed and rolled his eyes before moving up in line. He fell through the motions that he had become strangely accustomed to over the past three years. They filed in, crammed like Sardines and all completely silent as they heard the click of high heels on a metal platform.
A young woman stepped forward, large curly hair stood unmoving on top of her head. Her clothes were colorful and extravagant, a piece of pink and purple fabric hung from her shoulder and swooped onto the ground making up for the lack of length in her dress that caused many of the boys to bow their heads to avoid seeing something they most definitely shouldn't. Her skin was dark but not as much as the other woman of district 11, it was as if she had washed her color with a bucket of bleach or taken a bath in a tub of white paint and water. But she certainly was beautiful. She approached the outdated microphone that this district has been using sense the 10th annual event, but she stood proudly in front of the audience nevertheless. She took hold of the Mic, speaking into it, her voice sweet and full of pride as if she was honored to be in their presence.
"I am honored to be in your presence, truly! As we celebrate the 67th annual Hunger Games!"
She threw handfuls of what looked like sparkling sand into the stone cold crowd as she announced the event the districts of Penam had been dreading since the day they were instated. The Beautiful women of the capital hummed an ever present smile still on her painted lips.
"Tough crowd"
She joked, turning her head to the peace keepers that stood on either side of the large door behind her. Her swaying movements as she spoke were graceful as if rehearsed, she turned her head back to the audience.
"Of course, as always we have a little message coming from the gorgeous artists in our Capital!"
If you didn't know where she was talking about, and you weren't a part of that group of children standing in perfect lines waiting to be issued a death sentence, you would think she was talking about a place most similar to heaven. As if the Capital was a godly place that the people in the districts had a pleasure of even knowing exits. But of course, these poor children knew where she was talking about, and they were standing in perfect lines waiting to be handed a death sentence and a handshake. A video played, explaining the history of the games and why they were crucial to the success of Penam. Robb leaned over and whispered to the smaller boy next to him,
"This is always a snooze fest, same old video every year and they act like it's some revolutionary news"
The blonde boy suppressed a chuckle, as did the boy next to him. They struggled to continue looking forward as the screen faded to black and the capital woman spoke again,
"Isn't it wonderful!"
She clapped her hands together and let out an excited squeal, her heels clicking repeatedly against the platform.
"Now, the moment we've been waiting for, it's time to pick one of each of you brave young souls to serve your district as the tribute for this years Hunger Games"
The woman in the short dress practically skipped over to the first bowl, Mic in hand as she sifted through the names and scavenged for one at the bottom. She pulled it out with a triumphant grin and brought the unopened paper center stage.
"Lady's first of course!"
She said excitedly then slowly unfolded the paper to add suspense, girls were gripping each other's hands and some even crying before the words even left the woman's mouth.
"Regan Fort!"
The blonde could audibly hear the boy next to him suck in a sharp breath, as a peacekeeper led an older girl to the platform. Her hair was full of dark curls, she was rather burly for a 17 year old girl, large arms and sculpted legs. Her dress had a few holes and her vest was missing two buttons, but she held herself with confidence. The blonde thought her face looked awfully familiar, the gears in his head made his eyes look to Robb who's eyes filled with tears as he continued to look straight ahead. He felt as if Robb was being punished for mocking the history of the games, that he had somehow done wrong by being a silly young boy. Regan still stood proud, looking straight ahead into the skyline, not the camera's of peacekeepers that pulled her arounds. The woman touched the girl's arm and spoke a praise that couldn't be picked up by the old speakers, before moving over to the boy's side sifting through the pages until one felt just right.
The boy crossed his fingers, silently praying to be freed, to fly far away and never return to this god awful place. His breath fell short, his ears rang, he felt as if his heart had crept up into his throat. His hand shook violently as his feet moved without any conscious command. His head looked down as he climbed the steps, he felt a hand touch his as the beautiful capitol woman lifted his hand in the air. He could not hear her, when asked to recount the memory later, he would say he felt blind. Her voice played in his head over and over like a record on an endless loop.

"Tikan Mortimer!"