The Hunger Games - Writing Contest (ENDED)

District 6 - Esther

DISTRICT 6

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Esther

Gender: Female

Age: 16

PERSONALITY

Weapon of Choice: dagger

Hobby: writing, reading, playing GTA (or any game that involves killing people)

Skills: keens sense of smell, weapon master

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Eye Color: Brown

Hair: Brown

Height: 5'7

ALLIANCES

-

STATUS: Alive

ITEMS: one knife

SPONSORSHIP: 4

REAPING DETAILS

My arm slung around the thin scarf protecting my body from the howling wind. It blew litters of empty bottles, cans, and squashed papers across the street - the wind. Like metal swords clashing against each other, the empty cans fell to the cold concrete floor. Even though there were a hundred people standing in the Town square, a tall woman standing before a glass bowl that held my fate, the clashing was all I could hear. I used my idle hand to block the flying dust particles from my eyes.

My feet stilled to the ground and I felt immobile and helpless. The only movement from me was the pounding ring from my heart. My heart throbbed like the wooden leg of a one-legged sailor against the wooden boards of an old ship. My fingers trembled in fear and anxiety and I balled it up into a fist. It was stupid to show weakness.

My eyes darted from the blazing sun to the pink-haired woman standing on the temporary stage a good distance away. I held my breath and counted to four trying to force focus on what her plump yellow lips said. It was hard to listen - I made it hard to listen. I didn't want to know who was going to be taken. I didn't want to see the fear; the denial. I didn't want to hear the silent thuds of their feet against the hard concrete floor. I didn't want to witness the Reaping. So, I looked at the sky and marveled at the wonders of the clouds.

I felt shoulders go limp and the silence tense. It was no longer the silence of buzzing bees. My heartbeat accelerated and my clenched fist, unclench. I looked down from the skies to the pink-haired woman. Her lips pulled into a line as she searched the crowd. I turned to my side and felt the heated gaze of my brother. His brown eyes held grief and swelled with tears. One by one, they all turned to me, the brown-haired girl dwarfed by her brother's height, and stared. They stared the stare I didn't want to witness. I felt my body go limp and my heart break into a million pieces.

The pink-haired woman spoke with her eyes on me and motioned for me to come. It was pointless to show weakness so I braced myself and motioned for the temporary stage. I felt my weight drop as I lost my footing and I prepared myself for the spreading pain and taste of cold floor but none of that came. Instead I felt the clothing wave of the air and the spreading warmth of an arm around me. I turned to my brother and met the familiar brown eyes.

His eyes reflected everything I felt; doom. He might have caught my fall but it was pointless. Just like my weakness, it was pointless because I had fallen to my doom. It was all I knew as I walked towards the pink-haired woman, and into the helicopter. It was all I felt as I sat with the thin scarf in between my thumb and index. In as much as I knew I had to survive, I knew it was all the reaping would do - bring me to my doom!

If you wish to make an alliance with or sponsor this tribute, private message me.