Day[s] Of [Our] Lives
Apr 23, 2011 11:25:23 GMT -5
Post by Tsarashi 2.0 on Apr 23, 2011 11:25:23 GMT -5
When Heron Kimberling awake the morning after the death of her last teammate it was already mid afternoon and the day’s unrelenting light was splayed over her prone form. The night before she had managed to move one hundred yards from the bloody scene that was the very place where she had murdered her first. Now she was lying on her back on a tuff of grass, liking up at the bright, cloudless sky. Without a companion the world felt painfully silent, the only sound being the light whistling of the wind which sounded more like small creatures of myth playing tricks on her.
She had never before realized how much she had taken advantage of the people she had back home. Old friends and new, they were always there for her. There was never a dull moment when they were around. Heron had never realized that they could have been taken away so abruptly. Then she had made new friends; that was stupid. You weren’t supposed to make friends in the Hunger Games; you were supposed to kill off the other competitors for the entertainment of the Capital’s citizens. Heron never really did seem to do things the traditional way.
Now she carried the weight of her companions, though their bodies were long gone. All that was left of them was a ring on Heron’s finger and a wooden bracelet on her masculine wrist. That was what was left of their weight now, but to Heron it felt like more. Those added with the pickaxe necklace around her neck felt like an eternity. Did it make sense that the metaphorical weight felt like a measurement of time? No. But it did to Heron. Two lives lost now wounded the rest of eternity; whatever lives that they were going to live were lost, whatever families they would have and their families’ families would never come into existence. One death changes everything, two deaths changes more. The Games change everything.
As Heron laid there pulling the caps off of mushrooms she wondered how she would tell her story. It was a story filled with lies, pain and loss, but of hope as well. But as with any story told about battle there would be half truths, things that may or may not have happened. Every person sees things differently and nobody can tell a war story completely because they only have one side of the story, their own. Not that it mattered. Heron knew that if she were to ever get out of here she would never wish to speak about the Games ever again. She would lock the memories up tight. Besides, everyone in Panem already knows the story, they are watching it unfold everyday with a disgustingly morbid curiosity that they should be ashamed of.
Thoughts that seemed to contradict themselves raced through Heron’s mind, but her face didn’t show it. She was almost dead to the world as she thought about life and death, pain and joy, the differences between leaving and staying. If life hurt one and death hurt many, wouldn’t it be better just to live? Of course Heron would want to live; she had never wanted to give up. But would it all be worth it in the end? There was only one other person left, if Heron beat her would she still be able to love Fletc- Heron froze mid-thought. She ignored the fact that she almost admitted something to herself that she wasn’t ready for yet and focused on the prior half of the thought.
There was only one other person left in the Games. That meant that Heron had a fifty-fifty percent chance of winning. In her excitement Heron had jumped up to stand and shout for joy, but instead she ended up putting pressure on her knees which were still not healed. Her shout turned into a cry of pain as she fell back to the earth and clung to what remained of her legs in agony. Scratch that, she had a twenty five prevent chance of winning. How she forgot about her legs she would never know, but the truth was that her mind was so occupies that she didn’t have time to freak out over it anymore. Heron gripped the stump of her singed left leg and gritted her teeth. Storm was no longer there to keep her mind off of it. Nobody was. Heron was completely alone now.
Hot tear flooded her vision as she breathed through her teeth. She had been crying so much lately! She hated it! It made her feel weak, and above all it was on public television meaning that every single person could see her weakness. What did that mean for her? Would less people want her to win because she was a weak girl? Heron choked back a sob, but kept her tears at bay. Those people didn’t know her. Only a few people truly knew her. But wait. What did that mean? To truly know her? To know her as a female, but what else? Was she any different than the person who she was before? Was gender really that important!?
Heron gripped the ground, her eyebrows knitted together.[/size] “Guy… girl. It doesn’t matter, I’m still me.”[/size] She laughed a bitter laugh. It was probably too late into the Games to be finally realizing all this, but people needed to know. Who would know the true her if they she didn’t tell them? Heron looked up to shout at the sky and allow an invisible camera to get a close up of her face. ”I’m still the same person I’ve always been! Nothing can change that! Nobody can change that! I will keep going for as long as I can.”
’If I could make it out of the mines alive then I can make it out of this alive, that’s what Fletcher told me.’ Only now was Heron finally starting to believe those words. She could bite through the pain if it meant that she was going to see him again. There was only one other person left and Heron would do whatever it would take to win. But still in the back of her mind she wished that that person would get themselves killed before they ran into each other.
[[ooc-Sorry it took so long for me to post my day 7. I just got to internet connection. And I just got back from the city. Happy almost Easter for those who celebrate.
She had never before realized how much she had taken advantage of the people she had back home. Old friends and new, they were always there for her. There was never a dull moment when they were around. Heron had never realized that they could have been taken away so abruptly. Then she had made new friends; that was stupid. You weren’t supposed to make friends in the Hunger Games; you were supposed to kill off the other competitors for the entertainment of the Capital’s citizens. Heron never really did seem to do things the traditional way.
Now she carried the weight of her companions, though their bodies were long gone. All that was left of them was a ring on Heron’s finger and a wooden bracelet on her masculine wrist. That was what was left of their weight now, but to Heron it felt like more. Those added with the pickaxe necklace around her neck felt like an eternity. Did it make sense that the metaphorical weight felt like a measurement of time? No. But it did to Heron. Two lives lost now wounded the rest of eternity; whatever lives that they were going to live were lost, whatever families they would have and their families’ families would never come into existence. One death changes everything, two deaths changes more. The Games change everything.
As Heron laid there pulling the caps off of mushrooms she wondered how she would tell her story. It was a story filled with lies, pain and loss, but of hope as well. But as with any story told about battle there would be half truths, things that may or may not have happened. Every person sees things differently and nobody can tell a war story completely because they only have one side of the story, their own. Not that it mattered. Heron knew that if she were to ever get out of here she would never wish to speak about the Games ever again. She would lock the memories up tight. Besides, everyone in Panem already knows the story, they are watching it unfold everyday with a disgustingly morbid curiosity that they should be ashamed of.
Thoughts that seemed to contradict themselves raced through Heron’s mind, but her face didn’t show it. She was almost dead to the world as she thought about life and death, pain and joy, the differences between leaving and staying. If life hurt one and death hurt many, wouldn’t it be better just to live? Of course Heron would want to live; she had never wanted to give up. But would it all be worth it in the end? There was only one other person left, if Heron beat her would she still be able to love Fletc- Heron froze mid-thought. She ignored the fact that she almost admitted something to herself that she wasn’t ready for yet and focused on the prior half of the thought.
There was only one other person left in the Games. That meant that Heron had a fifty-fifty percent chance of winning. In her excitement Heron had jumped up to stand and shout for joy, but instead she ended up putting pressure on her knees which were still not healed. Her shout turned into a cry of pain as she fell back to the earth and clung to what remained of her legs in agony. Scratch that, she had a twenty five prevent chance of winning. How she forgot about her legs she would never know, but the truth was that her mind was so occupies that she didn’t have time to freak out over it anymore. Heron gripped the stump of her singed left leg and gritted her teeth. Storm was no longer there to keep her mind off of it. Nobody was. Heron was completely alone now.
Hot tear flooded her vision as she breathed through her teeth. She had been crying so much lately! She hated it! It made her feel weak, and above all it was on public television meaning that every single person could see her weakness. What did that mean for her? Would less people want her to win because she was a weak girl? Heron choked back a sob, but kept her tears at bay. Those people didn’t know her. Only a few people truly knew her. But wait. What did that mean? To truly know her? To know her as a female, but what else? Was she any different than the person who she was before? Was gender really that important!?
Heron gripped the ground, her eyebrows knitted together.[/size] “Guy… girl. It doesn’t matter, I’m still me.”[/size] She laughed a bitter laugh. It was probably too late into the Games to be finally realizing all this, but people needed to know. Who would know the true her if they she didn’t tell them? Heron looked up to shout at the sky and allow an invisible camera to get a close up of her face. ”I’m still the same person I’ve always been! Nothing can change that! Nobody can change that! I will keep going for as long as I can.”
’If I could make it out of the mines alive then I can make it out of this alive, that’s what Fletcher told me.’ Only now was Heron finally starting to believe those words. She could bite through the pain if it meant that she was going to see him again. There was only one other person left and Heron would do whatever it would take to win. But still in the back of her mind she wished that that person would get themselves killed before they ran into each other.
[[ooc-Sorry it took so long for me to post my day 7. I just got to internet connection. And I just got back from the city. Happy almost Easter for those who celebrate.
