{Down with the Shine} (Scourge)

[Deleted]

I a g o
I z a r – M c C l a i n e

•••

{What is important}
{What's really important}
{Am I not to know by my name}
{Will I ever know silence without mental violence}
{With a ringing it might go away}

•••

How can you tell a good man from a bad one?

[/color] We toss about the terms as though they’re so easy to distinguish, this good[/color] and others bad[/color]. The easy way out is to say that it’s relative—you can’t so much as distinguish between the good and the bad inasmuch as the situation tells. Like a dog to its vomit, a bad man can't keep himself away.[/color] My father tells me this today as we go through the record books of the crops that have been brought into the silo. He has been given the very important job of counting and recounting. He marks the numbers in a big leather tome with a cursive script. Names dot the edges—men and women from the district—and their haul from fields for the day. He sums up the totals, his fingers sliding down the yellowed pages until he reaches the bottom. He scratches a number before licking his thumb and reaching to flick to the second page.

If you’re always changing your mind, how you ever going to firm up?[/color] He says this to me. I’ve spent the last few months helping him to count and recount the crops. I used to talk to the men and women as they brought in their keep, but my father warned me against this. The lot of them will get chatty because they want to get to know you. Let them get too close and they’ll think that you’re friends. And the last thing you want to do is give the impression that you’ll bend the rules for anyone. I watch the men with their dirty yellow nails and the women with sweat hanging off their upper lips as they parse through the facility. They don’t even seem particularly brave. Most of them stare down at the floor when I catch their gaze. It’s rather pathetic. Being submissive won’t get you anywhere in this life, other than a coffin.

Today my father caught a man cheating on his deliveries. He had gone through several weeks of records and found that the numbers simply didn’t add up. He went over them a few times with his nose pressed against the page. Clicking his tongue, he drew his pencil and scribbled notes on the margin of the page. I sat back against the wall and helped lead people in and out of the causeway. He called me over to give the numbers a second look. I stood for just a moment, and hunched over the pages. If I agreed with him, the man would certainly be taken away by peacekeepers for cheating the capitol. A lesser boy would’ve ran with his tail between his legs and refused. Not me, though. Those that break the rules must be punished.[/color] How are we to survive if one of us keeps too much for ourselves? When I glanced at the figures on a single page I could see already he’d reported too few and then far too many—an obvious cheat. I glanced up from the page to my father and nodded my head. He’s guilty,[/color] I said, the words flicking off my tongue and into the air.

My father let out a heavy sigh and crossed his arms across his chest. It’s the same sort of sigh he gets when he sees the farm hands sitting on their butts, not plucking fruit or cotton in the fields. It wasn’t long after that he told me to go—he wouldn’t let me stay around to see what was going to happen. Not that it’s a secret. The man would be given a chance to tell my father what had happened and why the numbers were wrong. Then he’d be placed in handcuffs and dragged away to the justice building for questioning. People probably wouldn’t see him again for a long, long time. It was admirable that my father had the strength to make things right. I imagine a lot of men wouldn’t be able to do the job he does with any sort of efficiency.

I start out along the road heading further out of town. We live closer to the edge, where life looks as though it’s just about to drop off into nothing. Our house is a big old white wooden paneled thing, with blue shutters and a copper plated roof. A few lengths from that is the general store, and after is when the road turns from asphalt into gravel and dirt. I don’t usually go much further than that because the people out that way aren’t much to talk to. The only time I ever head out towards the big farms is when we have to go see my cousins, but we haven’t seen them since Benat’s funeral. My mother did the most she was to do, being the only one of us that’s a full Izar. I clomp my boots down on the wood before opening the screen door of the store. It lets out a shriek as I amble inside.

I take a small basket and start filling it up with what we need. A jar of preserves for the pie my mother will make later, a bag of flour, two cans of beets, potatoes, carrots, and a hefty slice of bread. I stop to eye the canned meat products. My mother swears by making food with the squishy spam—a product of some backward pig farmers in district 10 no doubt—but I can hardly stomach the stuff. I spend a good bit of time debating whether or not to take a can. On the one hand, my mother would be peeved, on the other, I wouldn’t have to force the moist meat down my gullet. I shrug my shoulders and let out a sigh. I brush back some hair and squint as a shadow falls over the can I’ve grabbed.

“Do you mind?” I say with a start. Probably not, they never do.[/color] I put a hand on my hip and turn to face the—no doubt in my mind—rough handed districter blocking my light. “Some of us are trying to shop.”[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Scourge]

Cramoisi Taj Elmira

♌

Shadows settle on the place, that you left
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness
...Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time...
From the per-fect start to the finish line

{'Action'}
{'Speech'}
{'Thoughts'}

.:.:.:.:.:.

The meadows beckoned to her, the girl lost in a trail of thought visibly; the sun shone just as much as vigor as the feathered creatures sang. Deep within the over-shadowed fields she stood, her fingers slinking carelessly into the muddled, rich soil beneath their calloused, firm grasp. A clear, high-pitched whistle sliced through the air; which definitely signalled the end of her work. Nether the less she patted the soil beneath her ever hardened fingertips, pushing herself up effortlessly.

Her almost pale blue eyes stared forward vaguely, losing themselves in thought yet again. Her hair shone such a pretty golden colour, almost like the sun itself at it's highest peak. She adorned pale, almost sickly-like skin, dark crescents forming under her lower eyelids. The girl began to haul her body weight away from the valuable fields, not corrupting them anymore than she had to with her simple disgusting presence. Like most farmhands she had no morals, no manners. Anger was displayed clearly on her facial features as she passed by the countless shops, instead walking towards her home. The jeers and whispers that occured from her 'neighbours' is what conjured this spiteful demeanor of hers. With her hand resting on the doorknob of her household, she inhaled the scent of dried paint deeply before walking inside.

.:.:.:.:.:.

As I twisted the splintering door-knob I involuntarily prepared for the distant shouts and jeers of my family to meet my already pierced eardrums. When I found none I sighed with relief, as if a ten kilogram weight had been lifted from my already aching chest. I strided forward silently, looking around at the portraits of my genetically dark-skinned family, seeing myself; looking as sour as a turned glass of milk in the photo. Always the odd one out. I heard the shuffles of heels as my Mother approached me from the Kitchen, causing my head to turn although not my body.

"Taj, go take a shower, wash your hair and hurry the hell up. Your going grocery shoppin'." My Mother said in her usual little odd accent that most of my family had. A little bit of capitol was obvious in their tone, which caused my face to twist in an angry grimace. Nether-the-less I turned to the stairs, not muttering a single sentence of recognition as I walk up them with thudded steps, walking towards the bathroom with curled fingers. Just as I was about to step into the tiled environment I turned to my bedroom, quickly going through my crumpled clothes to take out a cotton, buttoned blue dress. One I wore on an occassion, such as going out. I flopped it over my towel rack with or without my Mother's consent before turning on the shower, shutting the door silently.

.:.:.:.:.:.

I stepped out of my room dressed in the dress I picked out previously, my eyes although dull with fatigue, still managed to harmonize with the dress I wore. I straightened my posture, slipping on some clasped leather shoes that fit almost perfectly around my feet. I had been brought up to make an impression on people, not to make a fool of myself. Although I knew this was just so I could fulfill my Mother's expectations I had no problems with putting on the same phlegmatic mask I wore oh-so-well. I quickly ruffled my hair with a towel and combed the knots out, using my fingers to twist them into curls. I held them there for around two minutes, my patience seemingly limitless as I finally released them.

Without another word I waltzed out of the house, snatching up the money I was presented with upon the counter and evidently being rewarded with yet another splinter as I held and twisted unto the doorknob. Never the less I continued to venture down the street, my chin raised and hands by my sides. Luckily the grocery was close to my 'Home', but incase I began to recite the groceries I was 'ordered' to buy. Flour? Flour. Eggs. Milk. Five cans of beef soup, yes... That was it, all the thoughts that even briefly came across my empty mind as I walked forth, entering the shop silently. I ignored most all of the people that occupied the shop along with myself, walking forward to snatch up a bag of flour, neatly placing it into the basket I had previously accquired. I moved towards the cans, looking among the different types silently. A boy, that didn't look too much older than myself stood infront of me. I stepped forward, reaching forward to pick up a can of beef soup.

"Do you mind? Some of us are trying to shop." His bitter words fell upon my all-knowing ears, which caused me to recoil almost instinctively, giving him a head-strong stare. As he turned he would see me in all my fake glory. Posterior-length, shining golden hair was displayed clearly, my piercing eyes staring at his face when most would turn away. I was basically digging my grave, but did I care? Hell no. "Uh, excuse me, princess? I was covering your light for five seconds and you decide to get your panties in a twist." I snap without thinking, although not quite regretting my words afterwards. My enclosed fists stayed at my sides as I awaited a reply.