The Writing Games: the Tale of Coleton Ebony Baird

Assignment #1: The Reaping

I stand here in the crowd of boys ages twelve to eighteen, gazing around as the heat from the unforgiving sun blazes down on us. The girls from district twelve are huddled on the right side of the square in front of the justice building, and the boys on the left.

My finger is still bleeding a little from the finger prick, so I put pressure on the spot so that it would quit oozing blood.

I glance around once again. I recognize a few faces; but I don't see any close friends or family, because I have none. Most of my family died either due to sickness, the mines, or the firing squad. An "unlucky batch, those Bairds," my schoolmates and neighbors would say. But I don't argue with them, because it's true. We are unlucky. Well- mostly.

My father is most likely somewhere among the onlookers, probably praying that I will be reaped. After all, I'm just another mouth to feed. I almost wish that he wasn't here.

My father and I have an odd relationship like that. I don't pay too much mind to it though. I'm seventeen, almost eighteen, and once I turn nineteen I can move out of our pathetic home and maybe get a better life than my father. Unless I get reaped today. Which I highly doubt. I mean, my name is only in there about twenty times. Yes, I've gotten tesserae a few times. What are the odds that I'll be reaped?

A woman with brightly colored hair and clothes walks onto the makeshift stage. Her perfectly straight rainbow hair goes down to her chin, creating a clean bob. I believe she is the district twelve escort, Flora Stirling. "Hello hello ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the 99th annual Hunger Games!" The woman practically yells into the microphone.

I sigh as Flora goes on and on about how the Hunger Games are "so important" and about why we have them in the first place. I typically tune this part of her speech out, simply because it's useless information to me.

Finally after a long few minutes she gets to the important stuff.

"We don't have much time so we must get going!" Her typical Capitol accent shines through. I thought they were running a little late. I guess I was right.

Flora strolls over to the bowl full of female names. Full of possible tributes for these sick games. After all these years I still don't understand why people enjoy watching them. But hey, I can't control the idiotic nature of others.

"Now for the girls!" Flora has an all too friendly smile on her face.

Flora reaches her hand into the large bowl and takes a slip out.

With every second that passes I'm getting closer and closer to the possibility of getting reaped. Why am I so nervous? It's my anxiety, that's what. I just need to calm down. This isn't even for the boys.

"Alexandrea Pinesmith!" Flora calls out.

Do I know that name? It sounds familiar.

Everything is silent for a moment. There's some movement in the girl's crowd, and then someone shouts out nice and clearly, "I volunteer as tribute!"

I gaze over in the direction of the girl who volunteered, trying to see who this brave soul was. There's only been a few volunteers in district twelve history.

"Well then, come on up!" Flora yells cheerily.

The girl who volunteered slowly walks over to the makeshift stage and up the steps. Before she could say anything, I recognized her. Charlie Pinesmith, her name is. I used to have a mad crush on her in middle school, now it's mainly just respect.

"What's your name?" Flora asks Charlie.

"Charlie Pinesmith," she replies, staring off into the crowd.

She must've volunteered for her sister...

"Well then Charlie, are you ready to meet your district partner?" Flora asks another question to the nervous looking girl.

Charlie just nods plainly as Flora walks over to the boys bowl. I suck my breath in, biting my lip as I stare at Flora on the stage.

Come on... just read the name already. I need to get this over with so I can ease my nagging worry.

I'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen. I have to tell myself these things.

Flora takes her time picking out a slip and unfolding it. She reads the name on the slip.

"Coleton Ebony Baird!" Flora speaks the name into the microphone nice and clearly.

My name. That's my name. Isn't it? What is my name? I don't know.

I just stare at Flora for a moment. Was I reaped? Nah, this must be some insane nightmare.

Someone nudges me forward. I blink and the next thing I know I'm walking up the stairs onto the stage. How did I get here?

I hear Flora yell something about district twelve, but it's muffled. My hands and legs feel numb. I just stare forward, trying to process what's going on. My heart is racing.

The crowd claps a little. I keep a straight face, trying not to look worried.

A peacekeeper grabs my arm and leads me off of the stage and into the justice building.

I'm shoved into a dim room as the peacekeeper says friends and family may come to visit.

I look down at my feet, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

I was reaped. I am going into the Hunger Games. Unless...

"No," I whisper to myself. Suicide is not an option here. I just need to get on the train and I'll sort myself out there.

I sit down against a wall knowing all too well that no one is coming to visit.

I close my eyes tight and lean my head against the wall, uttering the lyrics to a tune my mother used to sing to me.

"Deep in the meadow... under the willow..."

I sit like this for a few minutes, softly singing, attempting to lull myself out of my anxious state.

After what feels like a lifetime, I hear the doorknob turn. The wooden door opens and I see a peacekeeper standing there before me.

"Let's get going," the peacekeeper says plainly.