56th Reaping [D10]

Artemisa Snow

The reaping, the day of the year in which the fate of twenty-four people will be sealed. Twenty-three shall die meanwhile only one will make it out of the arena alive. To face the cruel reality of their life after the agonizing days they will have come to feel like they have been centuries. To embrace the living nightmare they will be in for the rest of his or her life. To be plagued with thoughts each passing second by the fearful and merciful pleas of those victims from The Capitol that he or she will kill without compassion, or at least not show any because they are forced to by someone with the power to finish off in one second those he or she loves. To know that they will chose between survival and humanity, and that they will pick survival because of the instincts we humans try to hide for millennia in order to distinguish ourselves from the animals that are always faced with the same dilemma these twenty-four chosen will have to go through because they have been forced to, just as these animals have because they do not have any alternative: to live for the certainty that their kind will keep on going, or to die to keep pure, and they choose survival for their loved ones. They do not choose what we humans call humanity because in a world where they have only one alternative, and we have to choose, only survival is the one in which we both gain, not humanity because we do not know a stranger and we would feel less guilty if we killed someone we don’t know over those we do know.

But that is what most people think, unlike me who thinks that if I had to be chosen for the games, I would definitely not fight for my survival or for anyone. I would only fight to keep myself clean. To not disappoint those I love. To not die in an instant while feeling guilty that I disappointed my beliefs for a selfish reason: my life at everyone’s expense. Although, if the time ever presents itself, I know that I will begin to debate my fight for survival, but I also know that I will eventually choose my beliefs over my need and instinct for survival. Because I know that my faith for keeping on being Artemisa Snow is far greater than the temptation of changing for my return. That I know the life I will have if I ever do return: to feel the hatred and indifference of those I love, and to know that things will never be the same. All of this is the reason why I would rather die in the arena with the warm memories of those who have always cared for me, not to die of an old age, alone, thinking that after the games I have lived a lonely life, never forgiving myself and never being forgiven.

And now the time has come. Everyone is now lined up in our district square to watch the name of two of us sealing our fate in that arena for the pleasure of The Capitol.

I think of all this as despicable. Why can’t they leave the past in the past? Why do they have to be so cruel to their own people? Why do they enjoy the suffering and agony of twenty-four children who still don’t know and will never know what it is to live?

Well, it is because they are not humans. And I think they have realized that, for what other reason they would like to paint their bodies so pathetically. Don’t they realize that our ancestors worked so hard to make us human and reason in a logical manner? And that they are now putting all that hard work towards the trash because they have come so low, even lower than animals for a ridiculous reason that they could have forgotten, but they haven’t because of their outrageous pride that one day will be their demise. Pathetic childish adults who think they are better than the rest of us just because they won over the districts during the war and have so much more than us.

I soon roll my brown and intense eyes in an act of annoyance and what is starting to become defiance. But I then recognize this and give my head a slight shake to focus on everyone around me. I do not want to forget the faces of the people that have made me who I am today. I want to keep everyone in my mind so that when my last seconds arrive, which I hope they don’t, I might have a picture of everyone to take with me.

As I gaze everyone like I have intended to do so for today, a cold and lonely, yet warm and comforting smile creeps up me. And my heart that has been slowly becoming hard and cold from all those thoughts about The Capitol, cease to be replaced by the endless gratitude and love I feel for everyone around me. It is this that gives me the idea to maybe volunteer for whoever gets chosen to go into the games.

"It is time," the mayor comes up to the stage while smiling, "To once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!"

And now I begin to feel dread for what is about to happen. For the possibility that I might be chosen, or worse, for someone I know to be taken towards their possible demise. For me to be obligated to watch that person confronting every obstacle in their path and choose whether to remain themselves or fight for their return.

"Ladies first," the mayor says as if to add a tone of festivity in this dreadful moment. Pathetic.

This is it, I think while taking a deep breath. It is probably the deepest one I’ve taken in my entire life to relax myself from showing my true emotions. The time has come to see whether I am spared for another year from the games, and whether any of my friends and family is also safe.

As the man in charge of District Ten’s reaping reaches into the glass ball containing all of our names, a flashback appears before me. It is about the time when I met both Anthony and Emma. Then the flashback fast-forwards up to the time when we were all fighting the mutts out there in the forest. And now a question arises from me: Why am I thinking about them right now?

I then slightly shake my head to tranquil my mind from thoughts. If there is something I don’t want to do now is remember anything about my life so that I can be ready to let go easily of everything, for when I pay a visit to The Capitol with my now brown curly hair and my fitting violet dress which will be defiance to The Capitol, that is, if they are smart enough to understand why I am wearing that color. Other than that, they’ll just let it pass until they find out way into the games about the deal with my violet dress and the amethyst necklace I’ll be wearing if I ever pay a visit to The Capitol.

The man then takes a piece of paper with the name of one of District Ten’s girl in it. He soon opens it very slowly as if to add more agony and dramatic effect to the occasion. And this is becoming too much for me to handle deep down, even though on the outside I seem to be carefree and somehow absent on the grave situation. And this makes my eyes slowly close to take the possible last free breath and moment of peace in my life.

In my mind all I see is a dark horizon of tranquility and warmth, nothing else. No thoughts or feelings are now present, and this somehow feels strange because every second of the day I will usually think out everything going on around me, except now. I want to take the liberty to see how it feels to not stress out or to just rest my mind for once in my life.

"Emma Jenning!" The name travels at the speed of light into my mind, interrupting everything and making me remember that I am at the point of no return.

My eyes quickly open followed by an unmistakable gasp of surprise, fear, sadness, and rage. That is when I remember why I was thinking about Emma and Anthony all this time. It was because she was going to be reaped. Wait, if I was thinking about her because she was going to be chosen, then does this mean Anthony…

"Anthony Peterson!" The man continues as if to answer the unfinished question in my head.

Anger and sadness are two words that mean different things, but today they mean the same. I cannot believe that both of them have been chosen to live a nightmare. I wish I could volunteer to spare at least one of them, but I can’t. Emma has already taken her place in the stage, and I can’t volunteer for Anthony. This cannot be happening. Two people, whom I have gone through a lot with, are now sentenced to a certain death.

I slowly stare daggers at the mayor whom I know has nothing to do with all this. I know that he is only a puppet by The Capitol to come out here and say who is going to die because the president is a coward who won’t do this himself!

Calm down, I think to help myself from saying or doing anything against The Capitol. I then clench to unclench my fists and appear lifeless to everything. My eyes have lost the intensity from years of thinking, and my body has lost all motion from years of running and hunting. But then when I return my mind back to District Ten, I watch Anthony and Emma having that intense and determined look in their eyes.

People say that they can imagine what someone is going through, but today no one, not even I who think all the time and comprehend people most of the time, can understand what these two are going through right now. One thing is to imagine and make a scene about what you might do and feel out of the possibility of dying in the arena, and another is to live that possibility.

"I am deeply honored to be able to be in the Hunger Games. I thank the Capitol for this opportunity." Emma says in a cheery voice," Let the odds be ever in your favor!"

And now I know that they are beginning to fight for their survival. But I also know that they are not feeling great about this mask they are cultivating to gain support. And that they are maybe hiding themselves the fact that they are scared, replacing them with thoughts of not caring about anything and how ridiculous all this could be.

I give my head yet another shake and turn towards both Emma and Anthony. A small tear that has managed to escape my own emotionless mask, falls down my cheek. After that, I give an uncertain smile and whisper to them the simplest yet sincere words, “Good luck you guys.”