The Hunger Games: Beneath the Moonlight

Chapter one | Reaping day

Birdie had spent night and day working on her sketches. Beautiful outlines of clothing her mama would sew up for reaping day. She sat on a wooden rocking chair, pencil in her hair and hands gripping the paper.

She could hear the voice of her papa, humming a tune as he washed his coal-ridden hands. It was the same routine every year during reaping week. Peacekeepers flooded the streets of twelve, buying from the lucky ones who had things of value to sell. In this case, her mama had clothes, a unique talent of catching their attention with her embroidery and rare patterns. Her papa on the other hand had the talent of following orders, being head miner he never missed an opportunity to work extra hours.

Yet, most people in twelve didn't even have the luxury of selling at the hob. Birdie and her family weren't the wealthiest but not the poorest either. So selling at the hob was contingent upon their yearly earnings. Coming reaping week, most families hid in their homes, waiting until they sent their kids off to the reaping and Birdie watched it first hand. Once a child in their neighborhood turned twelve, she saw them less and less. Even kids from her school who lived in the seam became ill-tempered as they had to sign for additional Tessera.

This particular year, Birdie was not too worried about her fate during the reaping. She was eighteen and therefore one step closer to worrying about other things in her life. Like her drawings, her aspirations and, her love life.

She could finally look at Finley without thinking about the Capitol and their rotten ideology. She could provide for her family indefinitely. Millions of things she could do if her name wasn't called out in the reaping.

"May the odds be ever in my favor." She muttered under her breath pausing before she looked to her stained fingers and began wiping them on her dress.

"Birdie?" A voice echoed from behind her shoulder, it was her mother. "What is this?"

She gasped and looked down to her drawings, ruffing through the many pages. "These are—beautiful honey."

Birdie smiled as she looked at her mother, searching her face for a moment. She knew how much work it was for her to sew all the clothes year round and even more of a burden to come up with new ideas. Drawing the designs came to her when looking at her mother selling at the hob.

She realized how much she loved doing it. She started noticing her smiles when sewing at home, and how her face lit up when displaying her pieces to her father. She realized there was hope in finding a job that she enjoyed in twelve. She could help and work with her mother at the hob.

"I made designs for next year— or for the following." She rushed out whilst her mother inspected the other drawings. "Whatever helps you best mama."

"Oh Birdie." She whispered bringing her in for a hug, kissing her head. "They're absolutely perfect."

She thanked her a million times before ushering her to get some rest. As in a couple of hours it was to be reaping day. Her last reaping day at that.

When Birdie tried to sleep she found herself thinking about The Hunger Games once again. She remembered the bits and pieces of previous games. How it seemed like the end of the world when she turned twelve, a constant fear of her name being on the chosen slip. Now she was old enough to have her name be in there ten times. A couple of times more than she should from the years they needed Tessera to survive. How was she the scared girl from seven years ago? The same one who covered her eyes when a tribute was barely injured?

She dreamt of her that night, the memories before her father was promoted— when life was much harder. When she would have to be sung to sleep by him and would dread putting on her reaping dress. The screams of the people she knew being called up on stage and their family members being forgotten by time and grief.