shotgun. {cal shim one!shots}

[attr="class","mattioshimimage"]

[attr="class","mattioshimname"]

[attr="class","mattioshimpost"]i. the reaping

My mother had always promised a nice warm meal after the reaping. She said it'd be better than the last, and each time, it was. After our cousin had died, I was afraid to ask questions about the Games. I feared that the response, "We could have asked Luna, but those tributes slaughtered her." I realize now that Luna had died fighting a game of death, but at age nine, nobody could tell my two younger siblings or I that she died. Only Rhonwen and Sol knew. They would tell my brother and I that she went away for a while, and they didn't know if she would ever come back.

I remember the first day like you can tell the difference between black and white. I held Sol's hand as we walked to the Square, and I was tired. Every year I held onto his arm, leg, or whatever my height allowed my to reach onto and hold. He'd watch whatever was on the big screens, and I'd moan and groan, waiting for him to allow us to leave. But we didn't leave. We spent that whole entire day in the Square, and Sol wanted to see what happened in the movie.

When we went home that night, I was ready to sleep. Sol always told me a bedtime story, so I never was afraid of the dark. After all, he told me he fought dragons and saved the princesses every time. I loved it, and I was so naive to believe it instead of ask him what's wrong. Something was wrong with him that night when he tucked me into my bed, but I never tried to see if I could fix him. Instead, I asked for a story.

"There once was a girl, fifteen years old from District Five. She wasn't well known by many, but she was known well by one. She had been sent out by force on a quest for victory with others that had been from many mother lands, only one other being from her home. They were being sent to war. Cold blooded war, where trust would be broken. She'd be trained to do many things. Unfortunately, she'd be given a low number to represent how well she had trained."

By this time, I started to get sleepy. I closed my eyes, tucking my head under my covers and pillow. Hayk stayed up. He usually lasted longer than me, showing interest in Sol's stories and refused to sleep until there was a happy ending. The story began to merge into mixed words and emotions. Every now and again, the voice I knew as my big brother's got choked up, but he'd keep going.

Slowly, the words decreased in volume, and eventually, I heard no more. Instead, I made my own stories through my dreams.



Eventually, Rhonwen told me the horrifying reality of the Games. She told me that people were sent to their death, and only one would carry the burden of twenty-three others as they became crowned a victor. She said that Leon Krigel was crowned two years ago, and Luna was one of the burdens the man had to carry.

By then, another victor from our District had been crowd, and she disgusted me. When people praised her for fighting and surviving, I wished I could slap her. Considering she murdered four people to do so, I probably would've just added another number to that tally.

Today, I am fifteen years old, and I'm pleased when Ma' promises a nice meal. I like those kinds of promises as they help us to forget that there's monsters crawling all around us on Reaping day. Peacekeepers on high alert, escorts ready to announce which two from our District will be sent to their death next, victors ready to lie straight through their teeth to give the new tributes hope.

There's no such thing as hope, belief. There's no good luck charms, psychics.

It is all fact.

Fact: Every name that is called is another name my family will never speak of again.

Fact: People are going to die.

Fact: I get all of Sol's hand-me-down dress clothes.

I wore what Sol wore when he was fifteen. It's a plain white shirt, khaki tan pants, tan shoes. They fit perfectly fine, and it's good because I doubt I'll wear these anymore. I highly doubt there will be any sort of funeral this year, my family is filled with young and healthy people, none planning on dying anytime soon.

I walked beside Hayk and Sol when walking into our lines. Soon, they had to step away from each other. Sol went into the line with older males, I in the middle-aged, and Hayk in the front with the younger boys. Soon, I'd reunite with my younger and older brother, and then my two sisters, later my parents. Then, we could have the meal fit for kings and queens. A meal that could help up forget that two people from our District, possibly two that I know, will be sent to die or carry the heavy burdens of the dead.

The escort began to speak, and I refused to listen. The only thing I'd listen for was the name Shim, and then I'd stare at all the faces around me, hoping they don't stare at me.

The girl's name is a blur, and I only see a bleach-blonde haired girl stand on the stage. Then, I listen, hearing one word I didn't want to hear.

"Shim."

My eyes roamed to my left and right, but none of them were staring at me. Shim. My name. Was is Hayk? Sol? My heartbeat begins to quicken, the tension brewing. Ma' said we'd all have a feast today, but there will be one chair emptied tonight.

I close my eyes, refusing to open them until I hear more words from the escort. When I open my eyes, I look for height. It's too tall to be Hayk, and then I realize the small brown eyes are my eldest brother's, Sol's.



I said goodbye, hoping that I could say hello to him in person in two weeks. I want him to live, but I also don't want him to have to carry the burden of murders. I love him, but I do not know if I could feel the same way if he returned. After all, the winner of the Games changes when they return. They're scarred, both mentally and physically. They mature, knowing the true meaning of death and how it effects other people.

Don't lose your talent in stories, Sol. I really enjoy hearing them.

I want to listen to his voice again, but I can't. They won't let me go with him, it's never happened aside from pregnancies.



When we eat dinner tonight, Ma' asks if any of us want an extra serving. Usually, there's only one serving maximum, but now with one empty chair, there's more because my mother planned for seven to eat, yet only six come and sit.

"Make that two," I say, refusing to eat. Hayk happily eats all the food I starve myself from. He needs it as he begins puberty. He needs to grow, just in case he comes to the same fate as Sol and Luna.

When I go to bed, Hayk asked, "Sol, can I-" he quickly cut his train of thought with the reminder from Clem that he's gone.

I go to his bed, and hop in with him. He needs a bit of comfort now without his storyteller hear. "I'll tell you a story, Hayk."

"There once was a world where there was peace, and people could enjoy life without worrying about people murdering. People could just have fun, drink wine, and get drunk on the fact that nothing else mattered. They could just have fun in paradise."

"Is this a true story, Cal?" Hayk's words surprise me. He's old enough now to realize that my stories aren't as good as Sol's, and they won't be believable either.

"It can be if you want it to, now don't fucking interrupt me."

I continue to tell my story until I sleep in his bed.

Hopefully Sol will come back and hear about my story.

Because when I think about it now, he might like it. He likes dreams.

"Night, brother," I hear Hayk's words before everything goes silent.

I wake up and look over to the bed on my left, and it is empty, just like the chair.

It wasn't a dream. He's gone.

And he might never return.

{this was part one of }