The Beauty In Hell

The smell of my fathers hair slick oil wafted down the hall. Warning me of the date. His warm husky voice called me awake in a haze. Clara nudged me to get out of bed, saying if I didn't I could be prosecuted for not attending. My father steps beside her, handing me a dress. "Asia, come on, the reaping should only last an hour. There are thousands of kids from district 3 that could be selected, your name is only in there once, everyone's is". I pull myself up, to see the white gown before me. "Where is Mom?" I ask rubbing my eyes. "She's out to the bazaar to get soap and beef," he answers kissing me on the cheek. "Beef?" I questioned, surprised we were able to afford some nicer meat. Normally Chicken and pork were our diet. "Its a national holiday now," he replied handing me the dress. "I'll step out to let you get dressed, be sure to let Clara help you." I nod, slipping out of my night gown.

Clara is my age, 17, and I know she is just as scared as I am. We don't know what to expect. Little has been released about the games in the district. It's the first time we will be featured on Capitol television. The largest rumors have been stated true, that death will be involved. I can't see the entertainment in that.

Today's Reaping Day, the day 24 tributes will be selected to be apart of the new reality TV show, The Hunger Games. Young Adults from age 12 to 18 will be selected from each district. There are 12 districts in all, one boy and one girl from each. That's all we were told.

Clara zips up the back of my dress and pats my shoulder. "It'll be okay." I look back to see her in the same laced dress, but it was blue. "But what if the rumors are true? What if it is to kill us?" I shiver, peering into her hazel eyes. "Now why would the Capitol want to punish us like that?" She responded clamping the Morganite gem necklace around me. "It'd make since. You know, to punish us for the war."

"I don't think so," she whispers looking over my shoulder to look at me in the mirror. "You're beautiful," she whispers again, standing beside me. I shake my head in disagreement. "Not compared to you," I disagreed. She smiles and walks off. I continue to stand in front of the mirror, fixing crumpled ends of my white dress. I felt sick to my stomach. I knew the rumors were true, and I knew how disgusting the Capitol was to want to watch something so horrific.

I hear the front door jingle open. There were bells on knob to celebrate the winter . My mother announces she is home from the bazaar. I scramble downstairs to see the goods she brought. A huge smile is spread across her face as she pulls out stuff from the metal crate. "The Bazaar was celebrating today with foods, and gifts!" She exclaimed, placing down a three loafs of bread. Food in District three wasn't nearly as expensive as it was in the others but buying three loaves of bread was only for the rich. More food was set on the table, a very tiny cake, apples, one pound lump of beef, seven pork chops, an entire chicken, three rolls of crackers, oranges, pears, and strawberries. "All this for 15 dollars!" (100 dollars our time.) She exclaimed looking at the table satisfied. "Not only food but I was able to buy a new pan for 2, a dress for 3, some new trouser for 2 and a Cryliss Record for a quarter!" My father looked down, a crease formed across his forehead, "that's 22 dollars Emmeline." Mom looked at him, realizing he wasn't happy, "Yes, honey, but its worth it, food will never be this cheap again." Father shook his head and began to walk upstairs. Mom sighed and followed him, trying to console him with useless words.

Clara picked up an apple and observed it, "this food won't last for long that's why he's upset. Should have saved the money for the future." I grab the tin of strawberries and look at their red bodies, knowing they would only be brown in a few days. I shove the tin of strawberries into the icebox and order Clara to follow. Mom comes back downstairs with swollen red eyes. She grabs the pound of beef and throws it into the pot. I step away, knowing I would only become a punching bag if I got in her way. I grab Clara's wrist and drag her outside with me.

A group of well dressed kids were already walking to the square where the drawing of the tributes would be held. I watch them go by, feeling the chilling wind brush my pale red hair against my face. "We'll head over there in a few minutes," Clara informs me, rubbing her arm to keep her warm. For the first time none of the factories were at work. No smoke was polluting the sky, and I could see the white clouds. "I don't think I can recall a day where I could see white clouds," I stated, watching them float by. "Just think, you might be able to see them in the Capitol," Clara murmured, turning around to step back inside. I would have followed her in, but even the chilliness didn't bother me .

A moment later, my father steps out onto the porch where I was. "Beautiful, aren't they," he admits, staring up at the sky as I was. I nod. "We can watch them later, but for now we need to get to the square in time for the reaping," he said offering my hand. Clara was behind him, holding my jacket across her arm. I take it from her and slip it on.

The walk there was silent, for none of us knew what to say. I stood close to my dad. For fear I may never see him again. I grab his old leathered hand, and feel his cold marriage ring against my palm. I didn't want to let go. I stood in line with him to get my finger pricked and then gather into the square with the other thousands. The area was relatively quite, with only a few clamors here and there. I grip my fathers hand tighter when I watch a ridiculously looking Capitol man step out onto the platform.

"Welcome," he announced," to the very first Hunger games! I am Cyrus Clearly your district representative and escort!" A few claps echeo throughout the crowd. A quirky smile spreads across the face of the man. "I would love to draw the names now but first we must watch the video! In tribute to the war!" The man beams, pointing to the screen above him. The projector flickers on and the video begins.

"War, terrible war. Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained. And then came the peace, hard fought, sorely won. The people rose up from the ashes and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost and the traitors were defeated. We swore as a nation we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed, that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute, one young man and woman, to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage and sacrifice. The lone victor bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future."

The crowd suddenly went frantic when they discovered what the games were. Cries boomed, and agruements were shouted. Everyones calmness shifted. The atmosphere turned to panic, and my heart began to race. I gripped my fathers hand even tighter, fearing to ever let go. "Now, now it's okay! Only two will be selected!" Cyrus said to comfort the crowd.

The PeaceKeepers began to drag the arguers out of the crowd. I didn't want to know what they were going to do with them.

"Okay! Now lets move on to the drawing," he reported, moving over to the two large gold bowls. "And the female tribute of District Three." He trailed with a quick mix of the papers, and suddenly my world ended.