The Loric Games

Chapter 1: For Whom the Reaping Tolls

Katniss' POV

"I'm done" I say softly. I toss my napkin onto the table and get up. I'd had an enough of Effie's descriptions of what the latest night club in the Capitol and Haymitch's constant demands for more liquor. I could only take so much "togetherness."

I walk down the dining car, knowing that Peeta was watching me as I went. I open the door at the end of the car and shift through. I wasn't going to get used the whooshing sound of the train. 99 miles per hour and you were hardly supposed to feel a thing.  I felt it. I wished I was back at home, where everything was still.

        I open the door to my room and sit on the bed. Genuine silk, typical for a bed spread of the Capitol. I'll admit it was an improvement over the moth ridden blankets that my mom was constantly sewing, but it just smelled wrong. Clean, artificial and most likely brand new. I wondered how many tributes before me had slept on sheets like this, probably never felt something quite like this and then once they were killed, the silken spread was most likely disposed of to get rid of the scent of District 12. They didn't want the filth of our poverty ridden lives contaminating what they had. it was much easier to toss them away, just like the Games does with our lives.

        I turn towards the TV that's playing on the wall. It's just showing re-caps of the reapings. I can't help but glance every so often to see who will be competing. The first two districts are the same, beautiful and spoiled, but strong people volunteering to make their district proud. The next one a scrawny teen is picked from the boys in Three. He catches my eye for a moment. He doesn't...seem normal. He's unusually skinny considering what district he's from. He looks like he's been out of the sun for years and his eyes are black. He has those eyes that seem unforgiving and you could probably see yourself if you made eye contact. I shudder thinking that if I ever come across him in the arena, those eyes would be the last thing I'd see. 

        He has sharp angles on his face and his nose is unusually large. I'm trying not to judge, but he sticks out like a sore thumb. He stands at the ready, hardly bothering to brush his thick, black bangs out of his face. He also looks too old to be a tribute, he looks to be in his twenties at least, but his name was in the reaping ball so he must be 18. He avoids a glance at the cameras unlike the previous districts who were pumping up the crowds like they owned them. The girl chosen  before him looks completely normal, shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. She seems almost wiry and possibly mousy.

        I'm about to reach for the remote when the District 4 reapings appear. A man dressed in an excessive amount of feathers, including a hat made with peacock feathers stands at the glass bowl.

"John Smith."

       A handsome boy looks about 15 years old. He's well built with a square jaw and has blond hair and blue eyes. He looks like Peeta, only slightly younger and more angry. He seems to be clenching his fists and hardly looking at the camera. I ponder over his name as he makes his way to the stage.

        What an old fashioned name. Hardly used anymore, it's pretty weird. I know from history class that there used to be many Johns and it was a holy name, back when religion was a tradition. I wonder if his parents are Traditionalists from the Dark Ages. That's some kind of alliance that the Capitol has been trying make extinct for years. It contains people who are kind of rebels, they long for the peaceful days before the war and Panem. They've been labelled as crackpots and are ignored mostly, but one of their methods of rebelling is to name their children very old names. Whether their names are weird or not, they're still kids and they go into the reaping just like everyone else.

   John Smith's made it to the stage and he keeps his eyes down. He has this really dark intensity to him that makes him really intimidating. I can tell he wants to punch the announcer, but his eyes go out into the audience and he sees someone out of shot. There's a cut to a girl, a very pretty girl who seems to be crying. She's also quite beautiful and blonde, she looks like a supermodel. She covers her face with her hand and runs towards the man with the camera.