The Hunger Games of Bengui

Chapter 2

The short walk from the meadow to the town square where they held the Reaping wasn't that far. But it was quite challenging to hike over the fallen tree trunks and dead flowers that were in the way. It wasn't an option to attend the Reaping, it was a requirement, well, if you were between the required ages of course. 10 minutes before the ceremony would start, guards would be all over the island, checking to make sure everyone was to be out in the town square. If caught hiding in your home, you'd most likely be arrested and thrown into jail, so it's best to avoid that route. No one wants to be messing with the Capitol. I just almost tripped over my stupid dress. It's a hideous grey dress with dreadful ruffles at the end of it. Mother says I must dress up in times like this so that we blend in with everyone else in the crowd. I call bullshit, because if I needed to flee the scene you know, a dress wouldn't really be that handy and woah- I'm getting off task aren't I. I realized that I had already just passed the turn that leads into the entry of the town square, so I hike up my dress and start running, careful not to smudge my shoes. Mother says I'll need them for next year's Reaping too.

As I finally turn the correct corner into the town square, I notice how much decorations have been put up just for the occasion. The usual boring 'ol town square where on a regular day would be gloomy and grey, the small chatter of pedestrians walking by on a stroll, is now completely decked out in big streamers and lights, all around the fences and made-do posts. The small chatter is now replaced by the sound of hundreds of people, big and small, young and old, either lined up in the designated age group filed from boys to girls, or the other lot of the faces of terrified parents and guardians in the way back, clutching onto tissues, jackets, and even each other, sobbing horrendously as they watch their children being pulled out of the crowd and thrown into with the other kids. I line up with the other 16 year old girls. It's a small island, so everyone practically knows everyone else from school and what not. I see many familiar faces amongst the crowd, some bawling their eyes out, others keeping a straight face and tip top posture. I try to copy their ways, but I'm just not as strong as they are.

After about 10 minutes of everyone in the crowd jostling in panic, the guards have finally returned to their posts and Mayor Prince comes out. He's quite an old chap, but he looks ok for his age I guess. He has less wrinkles than even some of the older women around here, so that's a sign. He steps up to the old podium, the podium that has been used for almost 6 decades now. I've lost track.

"Welcome to the 78th annual Reaping Day everybody!" Ah, so that's how many games there have been. Boy I really need to start paying attention more, they mention this kind of stuff in class all the time.

"Today marks the day when each district shall pick not one, but two tributes, one boy and one girl, to participate in the annual Hunger Games," he said, with a sort of sly smile. "Never trust the government," I mumbled to myself.

He started off with a long speech summarizing the history of the games, the origin, the summary of last year's game, and some standard television screening times of when the games will be aired live. He then passed the microphone over to an odd looking lady by the name of Figs. Figs is from the Capitol, Bengui. She always dresses in bizarre outfits and color coordinations. This year she has seemed to gravitate towards neon green, having equipped a long floor length neon green dress, matching shoes, a neon green matching jewelry set, eye catching bright green eyeshadows and swirls on her face, and her newly dyed bright green hair, perfect for the occasion. Although the dress was beautiful and modest, modest enough for Figs at least, the more I seemed to stare at it the more dizzy I got. No, it wasn't the lacy neckline. It wasn't the slim cinched waist. But it was the color. Oh, it was so nauseating. I was so dizzy I practically missed her whole speech. I'm sure it wasn't that important, it's not like I'm going to be a tribute in the games. I guess Figs sensed that everyone seemed to be falling asleep, because she dropped her microphone on the ground and the loud back screech blasted through the whole square.

"Well that's about better," she gleamed. "It is now time for the tributes to be chosen! Selected at random of course, to ensure a fair chance in getting picked." Now unless you're the luckiest person in the world, everyone's name on the island is written on small pieces of paper and placed into each glass jar. One for the males, and the other for the females. This is why the government oh so relies on the census, since they don't trust us to place the names in ourselves.

"Well, ladies first!" Figs strutted over to the first glass jar on the left, and slowly reached in, swooshing her hand through all the different pieces of paper. Through all the different names. The town square must have been so quiet, you would've been able to hear a pin drop. I looked around and saw the panic in everyone's eyes. Some of the younger ones were even sobbing into the arms of their peers. "Never show weakness," I said in my head.

And then it happened so quickly. Figs snapped her wrist back, revealing a slip of paper in her hand. As she unfolded it, everyone's heart seemed to have stopped, and time was frozen. The only sound that was heard was the clunk clunk of Figs' heels walking back to the podium. She had a smile on her face as she read out the first tribute's name.

"Cara Monroe."

My heart skipped a beat.