District 11 Reapings!

Mac Starberry

My heart beat faster and faster ever since I saw him die.. it was a quick death.. he was in the arms of another man.. it was Icarus.
Mac was writing at four in the morning. He urges for suspense had stopped that day, so he didn't continue writing about his inner self. There was no use in doing this anymore, and it wasn't like anyone was going to ever read it. Mac always enjoyed a good book every once in awhile, but he read them so fast. It seemed like the quiet boy was reading a book a day, unless he didn't have enough money to afford a new one. The teen was old enough to put responsibility into his own hands, so he couldn't ask his parents for money.  Rubbing his eyes, the boy wrote just a sentence more.
I want to seem him again.. hug him again.. feel him again.. I miss him.. Icarus.. why did you have to go?

The boy kept his mouth shut as he twirled his pencil through the loops of his notebook. The boy put his book in his secret hiding place, under his pillow. It was still four in the morning, but Mac couldn't fall asleep. His head just wouldn't let him. Today was a special day for him, and his two brothers. The teenager would have to go through yet another day of fears. Although today wasn't fears at all, it was a plan. Mac was going to make sure his family knew how important he was. How extraordinary he was. How strong he was. It was the Reaping Day.

Hours past now, three.. four.. five. There were five hours of waiting before he had to go. Mac was never one to hide from his possible death.. no. The boy was strong enough to realize that anything could happen. By chance or choice. Maybe he would be letting too many people down if he made his own choice.. but he truly did miss Icarus since the day he died. But who would he be giving up? His parents, Stella, Jak, and Axel. He'd be giving up his new friendship with Icarus' brother, Jude. He'd be giving up so many things to prove himself.. but was he really up for the task?

The boy got dressed. He had his outfit planned out since the night before. A long-sleeved white shirt with his white sweater vest (design shaped as a diamond). Tan khaki  
pants that were just the right size for him, and a pair of dark brown shoes. The teen made sure that his long-sleeved shirt was tucked in, and his pants were a bit too high, perhaps in the middle of his belly-button and his lower ribs. But this was what Mac liked to do. Surely nobody would look like him, Mac was unique. Mac was different. Mac had a plan.. a plan that he would most certainly try to put into action.

It was time for Mac to go to the Center Square, and he did so in silence. The boy left a bit earlier than his brothers, he had to have some time to think for himself. The sting to keep track of the people didn't hurt at all. He was used to it by now.  Mac made sure to pull down the sleeves of his shirt.. nobody could see the red stains on his arm.. nobody could. He wasn't too fond of showing people his true secrets, and he hoped nobody would even care. Mac was, as said before, a different kind of person. He didn't care if he died or lived forever.. he cared that his secrets were always locked up inside. But if you'd really like to know.. Mac has a very sharp pencil.

The person was now ready to start calling the reaped people. Nervously, Mac let his left heel spin around as more and more people gathered. It was starting to get much more cramped.. it hurt. But now, all the boy could do, was wait. He was going to wait to see who would be reaped.. and who's life he might be saving.

we're all just stories..
in the end..
and when a chapter is finished..
start all over again.

Mac Starberry

Mac Starberry! Was called out after the woman's name. His emotionless stared went from the person in front of him, to the left, then the right, and finally the stage on the top. Mac heard a girl volunteer for the 'Harvest' girl. This scared teen wouldn't be so fortunate. He tried to look for his brother's face, the face he wouldn't see for a long time. It was too late, however, so he went to the opening in the middle, willfully walking to the stage without the hands of PeaceKeepers grasping his arm.

The teenager took the three steps up the stage with ease. There was nearly dead silence, so quiet you could hear the little squeaks of the wooden stairs. The last time they improved this place was when the last victor was crowned. And now, the stairs almost breaking as someone weighing a hundred pounds, you could tell that the last victor was from a while ago.

Mac Starberry was now on the very top of the stage, standing a meter away from the disgusting escort, and an additional meter from the girl. The volunteer. The person that Mac was supposed to be. But he'd be more sane to willfully go up onto the stage when reaped than volunteer and give himself a death wish. His left hand kept tugging on his shirt collar, trying to act like he was nervous. But it turns out, he wasn't. Mac planned to prove himself to these people in District Eleven that he wasn't a weakling, he wouldn't use a pen or pencil to kill. If he really wanted to win, he'd have to learn how to fight.

His heart pounded as he was forced into the Building, shoved into a room. It was dark, quiet, and lonely. The teen didn't want anyone to come into his room, he had to think about what he was putting himself through. Mac leaned up against the door, he could hear the gentle knocking of his parents to let him in, but he couldn't. They'd just cry, and Mac wanted them to be strong. They had to be strong for him. No tears, no pain. "I love you, mom, father. Tell Jac and Axel and Stella I love them too.. but I'm sorry. I can't let you in." He said, taking out his pencil and paper.

"I'm not scared, I'm not scared.. I'm not scared!" I tell myself, feeling tears run up into my eyes. I don't let them out, not while my parents are near. They can't hear me saddened.. I can't let them hear me saddened. I just have to be brave. Please, help me.. My story may be coming to an end. He wrote. The Peace keepers now told him to come with them. Quickly he backed away from the door, slipping the paper into his back pocket. He'd have it for a bit.

we're all just stories..
in the end..
and when a chapter is finished..
start all over again.