The First Annual Hunger Games Contest Book Entries

Challenge Two: The Reaping

The sun had begun to make its descent after the high sun at noon. Our Reaping was scheduled for two in the afternoon. This so called Reaping was describe in simple terms: a place and time where we should all meet and find out who, from our district, will be a part of the Games. All morning long, my mother fussed over what I wore and how my hair was done. Personally, I couldn't think of anything but of what I had secretly done behind my parent's backs. When I found out we had to enter our names and multiple times if you were older than twelve years of age, I submitted my name as many times as allowed. I couldn't tell my parents, especially my father, who knew ratios and percentiles better than everyone. He would have known that my chances to be picked are probably higher than anyone else's in my district. But it's too late now. Now I just have to wait for chance and fate to take their course.

My mother had a very grim expression upon her cherubic facial features. She tried to maintain small talk with me for the sake of her sanity. Worry was deeply embedded on her face, especially in her usually bright eyes. We sat on my bed as she combed through my hair, my head tilting back every time she ran the comb through my locks. After moments of silence, I heard my mother mumble words to herself, a prayer for the well being of myself and for protection from the evil in the world. Who knew that I would be the evil my mother was so fervently praying against?

When my mother finished, my family and I stood in front of a mirror, admiring what my mother had accomplished for me just so she could remain remotely calm. Mist soon clouded my mother's eyes as I observed the emotional changes she was going through. Next to her was my father. He remained perfectly emotionless. He followed the norm of what a male should and should not do, so he rarely cried. Only for my beloved Ammon.

After a quick but late lunch, we left the house together and ventured through various short cuts to make it to the Justice Building, the place where our Reaping was to be held. We arrived to the crowded area; people were pushing back against the wave of people like a fish swimming against the current. We all wanted to get out of this place.

A firm hand gripped my shoulder and I looked up to see a peacekeeper. He directed me to a sectioned off area of girls roughly about my age. They were all murmuring among themselves, the chittering soon began to get under my skin. I didn't really get along with people my age because of reasons like this- excessive chattering over pointless and meaningless things.

All of a sudden, the sound of loud feedback filled the speakers all around this area. Many people jumped at the sudden impeding noise but all were silenced as a video rolled on a big screen. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what the narrator was speaking but the images captured my attention more than the words. They had always said that pictures are worth a thousand words.

"...uprising that rocked our land.." Said the narrator, concluding a simple sentence. Images of pure desolate despair filled the screen. I felt like my heart was being ripped maliciously as orphaned children filled the screen. I felt moisture go down my cheeks as guilt swept me into its rough embrace.

"Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them." The narrator continued, no emotion seeped through his voice. More violent images filled the white canvas of the screen. Anxiety began to fill my brain and then my very being.

"Brother turned on brother until nothing remained. And then came the peace.." Continued the narrator. A scene of an explosion filled the screen and I burst into silenced sobs. For some bitter reason, the explosion was the way I visioned my brother's miserable peril. My hand covered my mouth to stifle my shrieks of terror. I looked down to the soil and felt the blood rushing to my ears, a numb ringing filled my ears and I lost focus of everything.

I heard nothing and for good reason, the video was over. I quickly ceased my shrill yells into the palm of my hand since there was no loud noise to hide them anymore, but my tears flowed down my cheeks freely. My brother was gone, and it was now that it really hit me.