Come Out and Play (Open for anyone)
Apr 4, 2012 16:51:39 GMT -5
Post by William Pagan on Apr 4, 2012 16:51:39 GMT -5
The day was, for a general definition, crappy. At least in most opinions it was. It was very cloudy…and damp…and foggy. It had even started to drizzle a bit. However, it was Will’s favorite type of weather. It had to rain and be wet for something to grow. It reminded him that good things can come from the dark. Of course that doesn’t mean bad things could come from it as well.
He had just surfaced from a freezing bath in a small pond not too far away from his now abandoned campsite. He had shaven, more or less, and had put his short white hair into an inch-tall Mohawk, and wore pitiful shorts and an assortment of rags that made up a pitiful excuse for a shirt. He was on the move.
He was racing through the trees and underbrush, jumping logs and dodging ditches. He had just come from District 13, where he heard some news of an influx of runaways. William decided he would head towards the Capitol, and meet some of them on the way. After all, he had nothing better to do, or at least not until the next Hunger Games.
Something tipped him off that he struck gold. He stopped dead in his tracks, sliding to a halt on his tattered boots. “Hello?” he yelled invitingly, “Anybody there that might want to show themselves?”
He had just surfaced from a freezing bath in a small pond not too far away from his now abandoned campsite. He had shaven, more or less, and had put his short white hair into an inch-tall Mohawk, and wore pitiful shorts and an assortment of rags that made up a pitiful excuse for a shirt. He was on the move.
He was racing through the trees and underbrush, jumping logs and dodging ditches. He had just come from District 13, where he heard some news of an influx of runaways. William decided he would head towards the Capitol, and meet some of them on the way. After all, he had nothing better to do, or at least not until the next Hunger Games.
Something tipped him off that he struck gold. He stopped dead in his tracks, sliding to a halt on his tattered boots. “Hello?” he yelled invitingly, “Anybody there that might want to show themselves?”
