The 11th Hunger Games

Reaping of Cathy

I look at the sky. It's about to rain. I hate Reaping day. The escort is too bright and we look dull and its boring. As long as I'm not picked I'll be fine. The escort Ginger totters onstage. Her ginger hair coiled around her head and her yellow dress vibrant and sticking out at all angles. She looks crazy and it doesn't help that her eyes are yellow. She speaks and never shuts up and then she puts on some crappy video about the Dark Days. I can hear different women crying as it brings back memories, memories that have been buried away because they're so bad. I shut my eyes. I can barely remember the Dark Days. But what I can remember, people shooting and falling to the ground, not moving. People on the side of the road, begging for food or their life to be spared. Towards the end all around the District I heard crying, screaming. I was two when the Dark Days ended. We lost the rebellion. Now we live our lives in fear, cowarding away, working our hearts out. Only for our names to put in a bowl, to go to our deaths. I snap out of a trance only to hear my name. I stare wide eyed at everyone. "Come up dear" Ginger Squeaks. It registers in my mind. I'm going to the Games. I walk up wobbling, my legs shaking. I say my name and age and sit down. She calls the boys name Simon. He walks up trying to look brave but I can see tears in his eyes. We shake hands and then Ginger talks for a while. All of a sudden it starts pouring rain. The weather matches my mood. I close my eyes to keep the tears in.