Random Writings Of A Random Writer

The Hunger Games: The Sickle

*disclaimer*
This is a Hunger Games fic I started a while ago and lost interest in, but I thought I'd share what I have here. You don't have to have read the books/watched the HG movies to understand this. I don't own Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. But the characters here are all my ocs. Enjoy~

Sickle: a farming tool used for reaping crops such as wheat, hay, and rye.

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Why?
Why today?
Why did it have to be this day again so soon?
That's all that played in my mind. I was nervous, though I'd never show it. It was the day of the Reaping, and my sister, my sweet little sister, was 12. She's old enough to be reaped. That thought made my stomach churn.

I concentrated on my work, trying to get my mind off the sickening thoughts. she just turned 12, her name is only in there once, there's no way she'll get picked, we'll be fine. she'll be fine.

I keep telling myself that.

"Easy Farmy!" I shouted as our faithful chocolate brown working cow stumbled. You see, Papa never had the money to get a good working horse, so we settled with what we got. Still, no working horse nor cow was as steady or faithful as Farmy. We have tilled half the field already, preparing to plant new wheat later in the year. I got up early, not being able to sleep with my thoughts going to the mockingjays over what might happen. The uncertainty of Meri's safety was eating away at me, but I tried to hide it. I was the oldest sibling, the strong, mature, responsible one. I had to be, for my family.

I stop Farmy, there's still several hours before the Reaping, but I might as well head inside. "That's enough for today girl, I gotta get ready. Wouldn't want to keep the Capital waiting." I say with sarcasm. Actually, I would love to keep them waiting. I would love to not go at all. But they'll punish you if you don't. Once we get back I unhitch our lovely heifer and put her in her stall. After checking her supply of water and hay I head up to the house.

Papa was already at work. He worked in the grain processing factories. Most able-bodied adults did, the grain from both our district and District 11 needed to be cleaned, ground into flour, and packaged to be used by all of Panem. Papa has a special job after hours though, he fixes the grinders and other machines, we aren't allowed to use many because the Capitol wants to make us work. But Papa has managed to create a few automatic packaging units. I personally think he's just as good as those District 3 brainiacs. But I can't be sure. We aren't allowed to have any contact with them, or any other district for that matter. In case of rebellion and all that stuff. I think it's dumb, but one cannot have these thoughts against the ways of the 'great' Capital. Or at least that's what we're taught in school.

Heading up to the house I check our rain barrel. It's a design me and Papa came up with. A large metal basin resembling an upside-down umbrella was spread over a section of the roof. The water collected in this then drained through the hole in the middle to a large barrel. The barrel was connected to a few pipes that lead to the kitchen. It was just enough water to cook with and wash food and dishes. That way we could save the limited amount of running water we got for showers. Me and Papa were pretty proud of ourselves for making it up and it works nicely. It's now my job to keep it clean and working.

After making sure everything was in order with the barrel I went inside. Already I could here a commotion from the kitchen and I knew my siblings were taking advantage of the biscuits I made with the tesserae I received.

"Barley that's mine!"
"You looked like you weren't hungry!"
"You look like a thief!"
"Just get another one!"
"I want that one back!"

Oh brother. Well, brothers actually.