Quarter quell Quarter quell
I stand with some of my friends, other boys with the same olive skin, dark hair and grey eyes. Today is the reaping day, and several of the boys in the 16 year old section seemed tense, then again who am I kidding?! Everyone’s tense on reaping days. A boy and a girl tribute are normally reaped from the pool of twelve to eighteen year olds, but not this year. Seeing as it was the 50th hunger games, that meant it was going to be a quarter quell.
a few days ago I was sitting at home with my girl. My mother was in the kitchen preparing a meal out of what meager supplies I’d brought back from signing up for the Tessera . My pa had just gotten home from the mines, somewhere I might end up working one day in the future. My girl was leaning against my shoulder and my brother was sitting on my lap, both of whom were asleep when the TV flickered on, something that never happens save for announcements from the capitol.
“Hey, wake up sweetheart,”
Dare to dreamPast the place where the wood lark calls, and the babbling brook meanders, there lies a place that’s warm and green, the likes of such you’ve never seen. Where the sparrow calls and the warm winds beacon, where the creatures slumber on the grassy moors and the meadow lark sings a sonnet. A place with skies clear and blue, and with flowers that sway in the breeze gracefully bobbing their delicate blossoms. A place where fear and worry a naught, and joy permeates the ground, this beautiful place where dreams are sought, amidst the soft white clouds.
When the sunset comes the sky glows ablaze with shades of crimson and gold, and the stars shine bright and bold amidst their place in the sky. The fireflies dance to the song of the peppermint wind as the moonflowers slowly unfurl, and the moon herself sheds delicate beams upon this quiet world.
There is a place where children stay young and laugh the days away, picking flowers for daisy chains and other such pleasant games. Where