It was a sunny day in District One. However the sun didn’t really lighten up the usual mood of the District. The dark gray smog still clouded the sky, and cast a dark and depressing glow over the square.
Cecily Lerra sits on the stage and sighs. She’s been stuck in the drab and dreary District One for three long years now and has yet to be fired or promoted. Somewhere in her core she always finds a small bit of hope. Maybe this is the year! Maybe this year District One will pull out a victor just like in the early days. But her prayers always went unanswered. In the past three years the farthest a One tribute had managed was eleventh.
Everything about the District is so un-extraordinary. The dull factories take up a minority of the District, while the majority is filled with the crumbling and decaying houses where the many citizens lived.
Cecily sighs once more and stands up from her chair. Like the rest of the district, the chair she’s provided with is dull and boring. She impatiently paces the stage, arms crossed over her chest. Her green hair blows in the heavy winds.
There’s nothing more she hates than being in this place.
She glares at everyone passing by the stage, as if they’ve each insulted her somehow. In her eyes, they have. These people haven’t even put the slightest bit of effort into this! The least they could do is hang a banner, or throw a light or so here and there. The whole thing is underdone once again.
The mood in the pens isn’t much better. The vast population of twelve through eighteen year olds stand in their pens, with slumping postures and shaking frames. Some try breathing heavily to take their minds off of things, while others try to think of other, happier times in their lives.
In the twelve year old pens Tara Crane stands up as straight as she can, but keeps her head down. As usual, she’s not in the mood to talk to anyone. She drowns out all other conversations, and stays in her head.
Her older brother, Nate, stands outside of the pens, outside of the house for once. Ever since their father took dangerously ill with young problems a few years ago, Nate’s been the one to take care of him. However this story is nothing extraordinary in One, where nearly half of the population struggles with some time of health issue.
It’s not only the adults who take ill either, for in the sixteen year old pen stands Rachel Penz. Due to work at the factory she can barely breathe anymore and spends most of her time coughing up a lung. Her dark eyes cast a sad view on the crowd, as she knows that no matter what happens here today she’ll die before she’s twenty. However next to her stands someone a little less pessimistic. Bink stands up straight and tall as hair awkwardly flies out from under his Brimmer. No one really knows what to make of the boy, he’s much more quirky than most kids from District One, somehow not taking a depressing look on life.
He casts a glance upon the Capitol woman sitting on the stage. Her magenta eyes meet his black eyes from under his glasses. She scrutinizes him with a disgusted look on her face, looking as if she’s going to be sick when her eyes land upon his left ‘arm’. Slightly embarrassed, he turns away and casts a quick gaze up the replacement arm he was given after the accident. It barely even resembles an arm, being made of steel bars and gears.
Cecily sighs and begins pacing the stage again. She waits for the ceremony to begin, but her impatient and silent pleas go unanswered, leaving her to wait even longer. She hears a deep and low hacking from someone, causing her to mess up her face.
She inhales and exhales as quickly as possible, not wanting to breathe in the awful air. Finally she finds her chair again and lowers herself into it. Beneath her feet there’s a small stain on the stage. Moaning as loud as she can Cecily tosses her head back.
Leslie Taters glares at the woman from the thirteen year old pen using her one eye that works. She lost sight in the other one during a factory fire, leaving her a one eyed girl. The escort simply irks her. Under her breath she curses the woman and crosses her arms.
Pergine Laz hears this and turns to his friend. “You can’t hate her that much. It’s not her fault she was born Capitol.”
“Whatever.” Leslie states, rolling her eye, “I hate her and that’s that.”
“We-” Pergine starts, but the sound of a microphone being tapped cuts him off.
“Hello District One!” Cecily shouts from the stage, “How are we today!?”
As always, no one answers her question.
“Well...I’ll take that as good!” she chirps and turns to the camera, “Live from District One, it’s the REAPING!!”
Everyone in the District watches her with bored eyes, waiting for this to be over. In wealthier Districts there would be some type of background music to accompany the reaping, but no one in District One wants to pay for the equipment.
“Before we get started, please welcome the Mayor of District One: PETER PETERSON!”
The applause is short and dull as Peter walks onto the stage. His round and doughy figure waddles on up to the mic, gripping it with a beefy hand. “Hello! Thank you everyone, and now...”
His words keep coming, but no one pays attention. The man’s too lazy to change up the speech every year, so everyone knows what he says. Quite frankly, it’s a sad speech considering they’ve only had about three hundred of the over two thousand and six hundred victors. Leslie sighs and waits for him to finish.
It seemingly takes ages, but Cecily finally steps up and reaches into the bowl of girls. Tara, Leslie and Rachel all watch with fear, hoping it isn’t them.
“Taaaaaaaaaaaaaara Crane!” Cecily calls out, reading the slip of paper.
The girl takes a deep and unsteady breath before making slow steps up the stage. She uses her dark hair as a curtain to hide her fear as she makes her way closer to the frightening Capitol lady.
“Come on over child!” Cecily says with a sense of over enthusiasm. She wraps her arm around the girl and shoves the microphone in her face. “Anything you’d like to say?”
“Um...” Tara starts, trying to keep her voice stable “I know I don’t look like much...But I’ll do all that I can...”
“FAN-TAS-TIC!” Cecily coos, and then pushes the young girl aside and throws her hand into the other bowl. “The boy.....is.......BINK RAAAAAAAAAAAAATCHEEEEEEETTTTTTTTT!”
Bink makes his way out of the pen and shuffles onto the stage. Cecily towers over him in her twelve inch heels, which is unusual for him. Usually he’s taller than the other person, but not this time around.
“Bink!” Cecily cheers, trying not to touch his ‘arm’. “What would you like to say?”
“Well that I think I can use my mind to make my way out of the arena alive.” he says before stepping back next to Tara.
“Lovely!” she coos, trying to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “Any volunteers!?”
No one raises their hand.
“Of course not!” Cecily laughs and motions towards her tributes “Let’s hear it for Bink and Tara, District One’s tributes this year!”
There’s some short applause, and tears from Tara’s parents, but finally the lights are dimmed and the cameras shut off.
Cecily breathes a sigh of relief and mutters “Finally that’s over,” before sauntering off the stage, leaving Bink and Tara alone. They share a glance with one another, Bink’s curious and Tara’s sad.
The sun continues to shine, but stays hidden.
