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Post by Cherry on Mar 31, 2012 17:27:33 GMT -8
DISTRICT 8 REAPINGS Clow Stark messaged his temples, trying to shake the memories of last years games from his head. This was, after all, a new year of the Hunger Games, no need to dwell on the past. Did other escorts feel this way? Probably. Maybe they just hid it like he did. The Mayor of District 8 looked at him expectantly.
Time to put on a good show.
Clow climbed onto the stage in the center of District 8's town square and waved cockily to the audience as he made it to the microphone. Oh yes, he still had it.
“Why hello there, and welcome, to another splendid year to discover which one young man and woman will be chosen to compete in the 52nd Annual Hunger Games!” He tugged at the lapels of his gray pin stripped suit and gave his signature pearly white smile. The crowd remained indifferent to his speech so he made his way to the large glass bowl that sat at his right, “May the odds be ever in your favor. Ladies?” He stuck his well manicured hand into the bowl and felt around for a few seconds through the thousands of slips of paper and finally choose one. He walked quickly back to the microphone, “And our first tribute this year for District 8....” He let the suspense sink in as the people in the crowd held onto to one another.
“Bode Eileen”
Clow heard notable gasps as well as sighs from those who were spared this year. And the crowd parted for the young lady who had not been so lucky...Clow quickly and confidently walked over the glass bowl at his left and repeated the process. He once was at the microphone when he unrolled the next slip of paper, “Boys boys boys! And our boy tribute this year is...”
“TBD” [/size]
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Post by Bode Michaela Eileen on Apr 4, 2012 12:16:16 GMT -8
It was the same way it always was. The same way it had always been. The same way as last year. And the year before. And the year before. The only thing that changed was the number being shouted out by the smiling Capitol escort. A number growing larger only to show how nothing had changed. How nothing would ever change. She was even wearing the same dress she'd worn last year.
In contrast to most people in district 8, Bode didn't hate the 'Hunger Games'. Yes, they were awful, bloody and ghastly. And yes, they gave her younger sister nightmares. But they were also exciting, lively and thrilling. Something happened, something apart from her ordinary life, and she loved seeing the transformation from the frightened children on the reaping day into beautiful creatures in time for the opening ceremonies. Perhaps it was true. She was strange, with no concept of reality whatsoever. Or maybe her mind simply couldn't comprehend the horror of it all. Whichever way, Bode found herself looking forward to this every year. To the costumes. The dresses. The alliances. The winner.
Bode was brutally brought back to reality when she heard her own name. 'Bode Eileen'. It sounded different, coming out in the Capitol dialect, but it was definitely her own. The girls around her stepped back to make way for her, but she didn't move. Yes, she'd fantasised about it. About volunteering and winning. She was always smiling those times, brimming with pride and will power. As if nothing could go wrong. But those were just silly daydreams. Nothing to do with reality. The only feeling she felt now was sickness. She could literally feel the gall in the back of her throat, threatening to spill over.
Slowly, she started walking up the short staircase to face the man from the Capitol. Perhaps this would be a good thing. She had seen what happened to the winners. They all lived glamorous lives. Dancing around in pretty clothes and socializing with the best of the best. That could be her. She could win this. The honour and the money and the fame.
If only she got out of there alive.
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