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 |  Subject: The Reapings  Sat Oct 13, 2012 6:34 pm | |
| The District 8 escort, Miltish Grentch, steps up on stage and smiles with vibrant purple teeth. He starts speaking in a pitchy voice, "Welcome everyone to the Reapings! Today one young man and woman will be chosen to participate in the 30th Annual Hunger Games!" He steps up to the big bowls containing the names of every child in the district, from 12 to 18. His hands hover above the bowls for a second, as if deciding something. "Now then, Ladies first!" he says, and reaches into the bowl filled with girls names... |
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spaceraiderz
 Posts : 51
Join date : 2011-03-05
Birthday : 1997-12-12
Age : 26
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| | Subject: Re: The Reapings Sun Oct 14, 2012 2:59 pm | |
|   
✏ makes the biggest mistakes
Myron stood in the middle of the large group of District Ten boys, wishing this day would be over already. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about his sister for another two years, but there was still his own wellbeing to think about. He wasn't going to kid himself into thinking it couldn't possibly be him, nor was he going to fixate on the fact it was definitely him. He was just going to keep calm and carry on. He let out a calming breath as their Capitol Representative stepped up to the stage to give the regular spiel about how they're sacrificing their lives for the greater honour, and stuff that was being said nationwide, just in their own individual way. He was thankful that Eight's liked to keep it short. He kept his head bowed down, blending into the crowd as much as possible as he read out the girl's name. He shook his head as his fingers fiddled with the hem of his best button down shirt, feeling sorry for the girl and the family.
Then it was the boys' turn. Things seemed to slow down from thereon in. Myron found himself becoming more and more anxious, despite promising himself not to make a big deal out of it. It was what it was. It felt like a life time had passed before Miltish's hand dipped into the bowl [[which occurred at a snail's pace]] and pulled out the slip of card with one unfortunate's name scrawled upon it. Myres found himself closing his eyes, sending silent prayers to the sky, crossing his fingers, conjuring all the lucky superstitions that had been passed on since the old times. Myron promised himself he wouldn't get worked up about this, that there was an equal chance of him getting picked as there was everyone else. Well, maybe his name was in a couple more times than others, but still, the point stood.
His bottom lip quivered as he watched Miltish's lips form two words, words that his ears refused to compute. A boy behind him gave him a shove towards the stage, when he realised that the name chosen was "Myron Hanigan." His expression was dazed, as if someone had just whacked him over the head with a frying pan. The pain in his heart felt like that too. He followed the path that had formed in front of him, not thinking anything as he stepped up to the stage. Then he looked in the audience, the non-participants. His little sister was waving excitedly at her brother; her parents never got around to explaining the Hunger Games. She was a bit slow, and they didn't want to upset her. His parents. His father was holding Faye upon his shoulders, trying to look strong, and respectful for his son's imminent death. His mother forgot how to stand up, and was kneeling on the floor, uncaring of what people thought.
He had done this. Him.
It was his fault their lives were ruined.
It was his fault that he was dead.
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