Echo Cognition (Open}
Dec 5, 2011 19:34:02 GMT -5
Post by Kurt on Dec 5, 2011 19:34:02 GMT -5
Cara Digouldi~
Three left... Yet the impact is just as sudden as when there were twenty-three left... I could feel the knives enter and exit her skin, ripping and trekking through, removing pieces of herself that should never be taken from her. She's not dead yet, but we all consider her to be...
Sundra Wie, twenty-first to die.
I instantly regret that rhyme, cursing myself for even thinking of it. Her crimson-stained body lying on the ice, as if fighting her eventual death. She turns and prepares a brave move, she rips the knife from her neck and sends it soaring toward the massive boy, as if on Kinetic Rebound. Yet I know before the handle separates from her hand that she has missed.
Children around me in the square laugh, others praying for her to have a more comfortable death. I can do nothing but quickly turn away as a throwing knife latches onto one of her fingers and swipes it off. I'll admit, even I couldn't predict that. Well, I could have, but I don't like for my mind to travel to such dark places.
There's a pop, and a flash of sparks, and two more zaps of electricity. The screen goes black, and various citizens complain and rant about how 'they were just getting good'. Moving quickly, I run a bobby pin through my hair and begin the cold sprint to the electrical box near the column that the screen rests on. I begin to rub my hands on the wires, feeling for loose components and jostling some bolts.
"Look at her! Trying to fix the set!" I hear behind me.
"Silly child! Get down from there!" a woman belts.
"She's not a genius, she's a crazy!" I pick up from a boy, probably about my age.
That's when the shoving happens, an older boy, probably only here to show off, pushes me a bit, countering my balance.
"You can't fix something as complicated as this! Get away!" he shouts.
As I fall, I can't think of anything, just a giant black. Just nothing is there. Absentmindedly, I reach out for something to save me from my fall onto the snowy surface of the ground. My hand finds its way into the box, my fingers of ice latch onto the warm wires.
As I cascade down in my mindless state, only one thing is in my attention:
It's not the red and black rubber covering the copper wires that I have just ripped out of the box.
It's not the yelling and jeering of the crowd that has assembled.
It's not the embarrassment of the situation.
It's not even the freezing temperatures of the crystallized water that is now cooling my face to a steady chill.
It's one singular thought, a hope, a wish that I pray to be fulfilled,
Sundra Wie, please don't die.
Three left... Yet the impact is just as sudden as when there were twenty-three left... I could feel the knives enter and exit her skin, ripping and trekking through, removing pieces of herself that should never be taken from her. She's not dead yet, but we all consider her to be...
Sundra Wie, twenty-first to die.
I instantly regret that rhyme, cursing myself for even thinking of it. Her crimson-stained body lying on the ice, as if fighting her eventual death. She turns and prepares a brave move, she rips the knife from her neck and sends it soaring toward the massive boy, as if on Kinetic Rebound. Yet I know before the handle separates from her hand that she has missed.
Children around me in the square laugh, others praying for her to have a more comfortable death. I can do nothing but quickly turn away as a throwing knife latches onto one of her fingers and swipes it off. I'll admit, even I couldn't predict that. Well, I could have, but I don't like for my mind to travel to such dark places.
There's a pop, and a flash of sparks, and two more zaps of electricity. The screen goes black, and various citizens complain and rant about how 'they were just getting good'. Moving quickly, I run a bobby pin through my hair and begin the cold sprint to the electrical box near the column that the screen rests on. I begin to rub my hands on the wires, feeling for loose components and jostling some bolts.
"Look at her! Trying to fix the set!" I hear behind me.
"Silly child! Get down from there!" a woman belts.
"She's not a genius, she's a crazy!" I pick up from a boy, probably about my age.
That's when the shoving happens, an older boy, probably only here to show off, pushes me a bit, countering my balance.
"You can't fix something as complicated as this! Get away!" he shouts.
As I fall, I can't think of anything, just a giant black. Just nothing is there. Absentmindedly, I reach out for something to save me from my fall onto the snowy surface of the ground. My hand finds its way into the box, my fingers of ice latch onto the warm wires.
As I cascade down in my mindless state, only one thing is in my attention:
It's not the red and black rubber covering the copper wires that I have just ripped out of the box.
It's not the yelling and jeering of the crowd that has assembled.
It's not the embarrassment of the situation.
It's not even the freezing temperatures of the crystallized water that is now cooling my face to a steady chill.
It's one singular thought, a hope, a wish that I pray to be fulfilled,
Sundra Wie, please don't die.
