Tinder Graybelle's Story

Tinder Graybelle

Tinder felt a warm hand caress her forehead. She slowly opened her blue eyes, and met her mother's gaze. The deep blue eyes lit up her worn face, and crows feet were visible as she smiled down at her daughter. Tinder gave a small smile then closed her eyes again, savoring this warm moment with her mother. All too soon, Mrs. Graybelle spoke softly to her daughter, saying that the morning bread must be bought. Tinder nodded and sat up as her mother exited the small room. She pulled on a pair of tight dark gray pants, a sleeveless black shirt, and black boots that laced to the knee. As she crossed the living room, she watched her mother take a small sip of coffee, a beverage they can rarely afford and only drink on special occasion. But of course, this was a special occasion, it's the day of the reaping.

Jumping down the front porch steps, Tinder made her way into town, careful to avoid the many railroads and factories nearby. How she hated transportation, despite the fact that her district specializes is constructing the machines. She could easily take a ride into town if she could afford it, but she preferred going on foot.

Walking into the district square, she said a few hellos to a few familiar faces and stepped into the bakery. Warm air hit Tinder's face, overwhelming her with a variety of smells. She inhaled deeply, loving the scent. Making her way to the counter, she greeted the baker. "G'Mornin', girl," said the round man. Tinder was fond of the baker. He was a kind man, and always gave fair prices, even occasionally given free bread to the poor children around back.

Tinder smiled. "Hello, Mr. Robson." The baker went around back and pulled out a small brown sack filled with bread. Tinder went to the bakery often enough that Mr.Robson knew what Tinder would ask for. She opened the bag, revealing four loaves of bread, instead of the usual two. Tinder raised her head and opened her mouth to speak, but was silence by the baker. "Think of it as a gift. . . for the holiday." Tinder nodded, slipped a hand-full of coins on the counter, and gave a small goodbye. If only today was a holiday. It ought to be, with all work cancelled. But of course, it wasn't for two particular families. One of their children will go off to the capitol where they will participate in the infamous Hunger Games and fight to the death. Those families will draw their shutters and weep in their rooms, forced to watch as their children die.

Making her way back home, Tinder met up with her brother as he walked home from the factory he was employed at. Ronder gave Tinder's hair a pat, and accompanied her home, where her parents were waiting. Placing the bread on the table, Tinder went back into her bedroom and undressed. She pulled on straight black slacks, and a white blouse. She let her blonde hair fall down her back. Slipping on black flats, she walked with her family to the district circle where the two honorable tributes will be chosen. Happy Hunger Games, she thought to herself and she walked.