I'm up for anything!

Just so everybuggy knows these are the people so far:

District 1~ Girl: Velvettina Morriseshia
Boy: none

District 2~ Girl: Ruiy
Boy: Yuir

District 3~none

District 4~ Girl: Marina
Boy: none

District 5~ none

District 6~ Girl: Alvina
Boy: none

District 7~none

District 8~none

District 9~ Girl: Aviva
Boy: none

District 10~ Girl: Aysekoryana
Boy: none

District 11: none

District 12: none

My character will die but she's going to last until pretty close to the end because she's easily forgotten, stealthy and hardly ever seen. 

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Ayse Koryana-

I can hear Perry singing when I wake
up. He's a tenor and a joy to listen to. His voice seems to reach every part of
the world even if he's singing as softly as today. The animals in our stables
stop eating to listen to his voice, the birds pick up the melody and twitter
along with him and for a few seconds the world is a peaceful place. No hunger,
no deaths, no Hunger Games, no Reaping. But at sometime the song has to
end. 

Perry
used to sing all the time when Mom and Dad were alive.  But after they
both died from the pox he stopped. I’ve tried to sing like him, pick up the
melodies that he’s always humming, yet I can’t even sing the easiest child’s
lullaby.

My
father was a musical man. He even taught us to play the old piano in our living
room. Of course, Perry took to it at once. I ceased playing after a day or so.

I’m
like my mother. She was a practical woman and knew all about running a farm. She
taught me common sense and how to trust your instincts. My brother, Perry, is
soft whereas I’m as hard as granite.

Perry
abruptly stops his singing when I go into the kitchen. Two eggs are frying in a
black metal pan and the table is already set. On the window sill is a picture
of Mom and Dad standing with a horse. He was named Starcatcher because of the
white spot on his forehead that looked like a shooting star. Our parents died
two years ago on Perry’s 17th birthday.

“Morning.”
I say as I slump into a kitchen chair.

“G’morning.”
Perry doesn’t look up from his eggs. He’s a great cook, just like Dad.
Everything about him is like Dad. His blue eyes, his slight build, the way he
smiles… The only part of him that doesn’t look like dad is his dark hair. He
inherited it from Mom, like me.

“Has
Minnie been milked? And the eggs gathered? And what about hay and water? Did
you give Leon a good pat? What about the pigs? Did you make sure they got
something to eat-“

Perry
turns around, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you just look yourself?” He laughs.
“I probably did something wrong again.”

“You
know, last time you forgot to milk Minnie and she went-“ My brother pushes me
out of the house before I can finish scolding him.

*

The day
would’ve been like every other if it hadn’t been interrupted by the Reaping.
Every year one girl and one boy got chosen to represent each district in the
Hunger Games where they fought to the death. This year was slightly different,
though, because the Capitol had decided that we should vote for the tributes
instead of it being a game of chance.

Perry
and I set off about an hour before the Reaping. It’s in the middle of town,
some miles away from our isolated farm on the outskirts of District 10.

When we
get there the square seems very empty but actually almost everyone’s there. Our
population became tiny after everyone got sick.

I join
the 15 year-olds, a lot of them anxiously whispering and some, like me,
standing quietly, feeling alone and helpless. Some of the richer kids in town
wear masks over their mouths and noses to protect themselves from the possible
germs that could still be floating around the area after the pox epidemic where
more than half of us died.

Perry,
who’s 19, stands with the grown-ups.

“Hello,
hello District 10 and welcome to the Reaping!” Dilla McGreen has dark green
hair, a tail and cat-like eyes. A veil covers her mouth and nose. So she also thinks
we’re all contaminated?

“This
Hunger Games is very special because you have been voted for! What an honor to
know that the population knows who you are!” Dilla waits for an applause.
Nothing. Clearing her throat, she continues: “Shall we start with the girls?”
She holds up a red envelope with the word GIRL on it. I hold my breath. Who
will it be? Her fingers seem to move in slow motion as she opens and unfolds
the piece of paper.

“A… How
do you say it? AYSE KORYANA!”

I'll be the guy from District 1, too.

Name: Quartzite Janison

Age: 17

District: 1

Appearance: Platinum Blond Hair cut in an attractive hairstyle, brown eyes, tan, overall H-O-T

Personality: The male version of Velvettina

Other: Only child of a perfumer and a furrier.  Other than that, think confident.

Velvettina Morreseshia~

I slide down the stairs into the atrium of the mansion.  Today's the day!  I grab an apple from Polish's desk.  She waves at me with a smile.  I don't wave back.  Instead, I cross my arms.  The help shouldn't be waving at me!  Then I break into a smile and wave back.  Today!  Is!  The!  Day!  

I waltz back into the residential part of the mansion.  Mink walks up to me.  "Why are you so happy?" she asks me.  She looks madder than I've ever seen her.  "You have to go kill people and maybe even be killed!"  

"Oh don't be such a Damask Downer," I say. "I'm using my training to bring honor to the family."  She scowls.  Then she tenses up and starts crying.  I look at her like she's crazy.  This is my day.

We are called into town square.  I wave my arms to the side.  All the girls move over to the sides to let me pass.  I strut right to the front.  Jacqueline Moplina takes the stage.  "Here we go, ladies," she says.  The other girls just look bored.  "Velvettina Morreseshia!" she cries.  Of course! 

Quartzite Janison:

Mother wakes me up by gently shaking me.  "Wake up, honey," she says, "It's reaping day."  She smells like the flowers she crushes to make the Capitol smell good.  She's also crying.  

"Mother, I'm going to win," I told her, "Don't cry.  I'll be back soon."

"But we don't know that!"

"We do.  I will win."

I throw off my wolf skin blanket and shoo Mother out of the room.  I shimmy into my Reaping Day suit.  Taking the stairs two steps at a time, I run into the kitchen.  I grab a slice of bread out of Father's hand.

In the square, I slide in between some other boys just as Jacqueline takes the stage.  She announces Velvettina as the girl.  Honestly, I don't know why she bothers to announce us anymore.  We know who is going to be tribute.  Then she announces me as the boy.  I.  Will.  Win.

I'll also make the district 6 boy:

Name: Sinkashon Gadd (Sinkashon is what his parents thought to be
Shinkansen) (Bullet Train)

Gender: Male

Age: 14

District: 6

Appearance: Curly black hair that goes down to just above his
shoulders, hazel eyes with flecks of gold, about 5 8'', thin
eyebrows, a mark above his left eyebrow that he got by getting
scratched on a car part and left alone to become a scar so that he
would look “cool”.

Personality: Obnoxious, obsessed with cars, thinks he can win,
and wants to win to impress his crush.

Family: His mom died right after his birth and his dad is just
really weird and overly confident of his child. No siblings.

Weapons: A hammer.

Other : He got chosen because his district just really wanted to
get rid of him, and because he asked everyone to.

Yay! This sounds fun, hope it's OK that I'm joining after you've started.

Name: Kim

Age: 13

District: 11

Description: Average height, pale skin, black hair and icy blue eyes. She is very persuasive and manipulative and very fierce. She will stop at nothing to survive and is not afraid to kill. Her preferred weapon is a knife. 

Ayse Koryana- 

Shock. That’s all I feel as I walk towards the stage. Otherwise I’m numb as if ice has frozen my body.

“Congratulations! And now to the boy…” Dilla applauds.

I know why they chose me. I’m the strongest and healthiest girl in District 10. I’m tough and most people in their right mind know that. But couldn’t they have picked someone else?

“Our boy tribute: Milo Peters!” A light applause. Milo is short, skinny and blond with scars from the pox all over his face. He’s 12 or 13. He wasn’t chosen for his strength. Someone wanted to get back at him. Revenge. What a horrible thing to do to a child.

*

I am led off to the Justice Building (is it called that?) and into a room. It’s windows are barred and a single pea green couch stands in the middle of the room. My door is guarded by two large men.

I stroke the material of the couch. It’s smooth like water yet I’d rather be sitting on the scratchy wool rug in our living room at home.

Soon Perry runs in. In a second his arms are around me and he’s pressing me against him. He’s shaking from sobs. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for him. First his parents and now me.

“You know,” he says after he’s calmed down. We’re sitting on the couch. “You have a chance. Unlike that Milo boy… He’s twelve, Ayse! Only twelve. He’s not even going to survive the first few seconds.”

“You never know…” I stare at my feet.

“Will you promise me that you don’t stay at the Cornucopia for long. The careers will strike you down if you do. Just grab a pack and run. Please?”

I don’t answer.

“Ayse! Look at me!”

I force myself to face him. His blue eyes are pleading. His pale skin tear-streaked. “Do you promise to try to win? I don’t know if I could get over losing you, too.”

“I can’t promise that, Perry. You’re old enough to understand why.”

He attempts a smile but it seems to be more of a grimace.

“Perry, can you do me a favor? Sing for me. Please.” His voice fills the room, warms it and I feel like I’m at home. I can hear the pigs snorting and our cow mooing. I see the green grass blowing in the wind. I’m galloping through the fields on our horse…

Perry stops singing. “I have to go.”

“Don’t forget to milk Minnie.” I whisper although my brother’s already gone. 

SOMEONE PLEASE POST?!?!?! 

Oops, I'm supposed to be playing aren't I? Heh heh. (Yes, I know it shold be am I not, but that sounds awkward.) I don't know much about District 2, so I'm just going to make half of this up. 

Reaping Day. That's all anyone can think about. Everyone is bragging about how they will get in and bring fame to District 2. Fame. Is that all they care about? What about the thrill of the hunt, the chase and then the kill? Animalic instincts drive us all, some more than others. Humankind lusts for violence. The Capitol watches as its children tear each other apart. We are no more than puppets on the strings of the Capitol. They are the Puppetmasters. 

What are you doing right now?

Watching men make fools of themselves. Pompous, preening idiots.

They all pretend that they voted for themselves. They didn't. They are too afraid. They think we don't notice them skirting away, shuddering as we pass. We hear the whispers when they think we aren't listening. They may act tough, but they are afraid inside.  They say they voted for us because they know we can win but they will breathe sighs of relief when we are gone. We won't make it back.

You know?

They want us gone. We will go. 

Life has more than suffering. It has pain, yes, but also pleasure.

They appear in my dreams. Everyone I have killed. The goverment hushes it up, writes it off, says it was just a freak accident. They weren't. They are gone yet they plauge me. 

Poor Riuy. Life holds no pleasure for her. We make a balance. The anger and the laughter. The light and the dark. The life and the death.   

It is time. The announcer, peppy as always, giving the speech of no meaning. I don't pay her attention. Thoughts are much more exciting than the speech of liing people. We don't belong in either worlds.

I think she just said something important. She just ruined my name. Pay more attention and you can laugh when she mispronounces your name.

"Uhh... Yur? Is there a Yur here?"  See?

Close enough. I walk up to the satge. The annoucer is babbling on about some honor and useless information. Riuy is agitated. THEY'RE STARING! TURN AWAY! TURN AWAY! NOW!

it's allright, it's allright, it'll be over soon, shh, shh, Riuy, don't have a cow, Riuy, please shush!

They're herding us towards this little room. Riuy's panicing. Calm down, calm down, they'll stop touching you in a second, please don't bite them. She doesn't. She's shaking though. Finally, we are escorted into these little rooms. They say family and friends can visit. What family? We are alone.  

Reaping Day. That is all that they think they think about. There is a primal instinct they can not lose, however- fear. And relief. We will be gone soon so they can forget. They will try to shove us to a back corner of their minds. We will wait. And then when the time is right, we will strike. Oh yes, we will strike. Be afraid, for we can never leave. There are always demon children in this world, strange abnormalities they try to forget. We die young and are born again and again. I am the knowledge. Yuir is ignorant. He can almost pass as normal. Lucky Yuir. The knowledge will someday kill you. All he can think about right now is them and their stupidity. The Capitol is playing dangerous games. They will not soon forget, but they will try. Oh yes. They will try.  We are no more than puppets on the strings of the Capitol. They are the Puppetmasters. But what is the puppets fight back?

What are you doing right now?

Watching men make fools of themselves. Pompus, preening idiots. Yuir doesn't often pay attention unless he is hunting. I have to watch while he has to communicate. I won't be able to last much longer. We won't make it back.

You know? 

They want us gone. We will go.

Life has more than pain. It has suffering, yes, but also pleasure. Lucky Yuir, the blind child. Blind to the ways of the world and the suffering. He has only experienced it through me. 

They appear in my dreams. Evryone I have killed. The government hushes it up, writes it off, says it was just a freak accident. They weren't.  They are gone they yet plague me. Lucky, lucky Yuir!

They say it is time. What is the point? Humans are so idiotic. Always saying things others already know. The females are paticulary horrendous. Our spokeperson is female and she reeks of false happiness and emotions. I want to attack her. 

"And our girl tribute will be... Ryu! Is there a Ryu here? There's no last name!" Why do they bother to label things extravagently? I know what I am. Everyone else knows that I'm a freak, "mentally disturbed". Why don't they just call me Freak? I would know who they are talking about. I go up to the stage. So many faces! STARING! She will want Yuir's attention soon. Pay attention, idiot brother. She just ruined my name. Pay more attention so you can laugh when she mispronounces your name. 

"Uhh... Yur? Is there a Yur here?" See?

Yuir is up on the stage soon after here proclamation. And I see the eyes. THEY'RE STARING! TURN AWAY! TURN AWAY!

It's alright, it's alright, it'll be over soon, shh, shh, Riuy, don't have a cow, Riuy, please shush! 

And then it gets even worse. This man, this attendant, comes over and GRABS ME! HE TOUCHES ME! THAT HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE SENSATION!

Calm down, calm down, they'll stop touching you in a second, please don't bite them. 

We are now in separate little rooms. To see friends and family. Ha. These cameras would be delighted now. They would rejoice: OTHERWORDLY TRIBUTES FROM DISTRICT 2 ARE ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD! WILL DISTRICT 2 WIN? I'm glad if I can provide a bit of twisted satisfaction for anyone out there in my own twisted way. Watch me, but do not forget me. Don't turn your back on the shadows.