The Reaping day is the one-day poor families fear most. The uncertainty of not knowing if your daughter or son will be taken away to fight till death as punishment for the rebellion years ago. One girl and one guy are chosen to represent their district. Tessera is the act of having your name put into the poll more than what's expected to receive extra grains and oil. I have been either helping or single-handedly feeding a family of five for seven years. The chance of those who live outside the seam is very slim compared to the ones who live in that part of town. That's what sets me off the most. The unfairness it represents doesn't help me either. However, that's the only way I see the Reaping. I can't help worrying about my family. There's
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I'm not risking my hard earned money!" stated the other gentlemen. Sadly, he is right I think to myself. Here in district twelve for many tesserae is their only option to survive or they will starve to death.
The capitol doesn't seem to care, though. Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping. She sees the fight to the death, yet she still keeps that ridiculous smile on her face. Everyone was separated into age groups and boys were divided from the girls. The air felt thick. The raw emotion everyone's feeling; terrified their life could change forever. The anxiety on their faces could stop a heart from beating. But I'm ready as I will ever be to hear the names she will soon call. Her long almost spider-like fingers curl around all the pieces of paper and she's looking for the perfect name to call. The nails she has on this reaping are so intricate and colorful. There full of design and style. It screams luxury. The rattling around of slips of paper makes me tremble even more.
"Maybe I'm not ready for this," I whisper to myself.
It's dead silent as she walks towards the microphone. No one knows what's to come; however, from this moment on it's everyone for
I'm not risking my hard earned money!" stated the other gentlemen. Sadly, he is right I think to myself. Here in district twelve for many tesserae is their only option to survive or they will starve to death.
The capitol doesn't seem to care, though. Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping. She sees the fight to the death, yet she still keeps that ridiculous smile on her face. Everyone was separated into age groups and boys were divided from the girls. The air felt thick. The raw emotion everyone's feeling; terrified their life could change forever. The anxiety on their faces could stop a heart from beating. But I'm ready as I will ever be to hear the names she will soon call. Her long almost spider-like fingers curl around all the pieces of paper and she's looking for the perfect name to call. The nails she has on this reaping are so intricate and colorful. There full of design and style. It screams luxury. The rattling around of slips of paper makes me tremble even more.
"Maybe I'm not ready for this," I whisper to myself.
It's dead silent as she walks towards the microphone. No one knows what's to come; however, from this moment on it's everyone for