---Bonnia Ethned--- District 5
Dec 10, 2013 23:24:02 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 10, 2013 23:24:02 GMT -5
Name:
Bonnia isn't incredibly beautiful, but she's far from ugly. She has brown, shoulder length hair that goes down to her shoulders and curls slightly at the end, for a reason unbeknownst to her.
Her body type would be defined as small and skinny. At a measly 4'9, Bonnia seems to be shorter than most other girls her age, not that it actually matters to her.
Resting on top of an oval shaped face are thinner eyebrows, with a slightly larger nose, though it is nothing that would really stand out to anyone who looked at her. However, the most striking, and perhaps unnerving feature of her are her eyes. They are nearly completely white, being a white that slightly more grey color that is only noticeable when people get very close to her.
[/blockquote]Personality:
On November 20th, a boy was born. A boy by the name of Clyden Ethned. Exactly one year later, another child was born into the Ethned family, and was named Bonnia Ethned. That girl who was born is me, and I was asked to tell exactly what happened with my brother that day. Well, here goes something.
We rode on horses made of sticks
My family, the Ethneds, were dirt poor. And I mean dirt poor. A lot of the time, we could hardly afford to put food on our table, let alone get new clothes or toys. The one thing that kept us together though was our sense of unity. It was such a strong bond between all of us, and even after my brother's outbursts we'd only come out stronger, our love for each other only growing stronger. I don't know how my parents did it, how they stayed together and loved each other even though they could hardly afford anything. It was...amazing.
Perhaps the only bond stronger than my mother and father's was the bond between me and my brother, Clyden. I can still remember playing outside with him, how he'd make me toys and dolls out of sticks or twigs. He always was so creative in that way, while I was the one who was always logical, who preferred the realistic and sensible approach. Books were my pastime, they still are today as a matter of fact. But back when I was a child I could hardly read, let alone actually purchase a book. So, after I read a book on survival about a hundred times, I finally became bored with it and decided to move on. That was another thing that I guess spawned through my childhood, an incredible sense of patience or...persistence? I don't quite know what to call it. All I know is that I could recite that book torn cover to torn cover, still can today. I think that's something to be proud of.
He wore black and I wore white[/i]
Perhaps the reason me and Clyden were so close was because we were complete opposites. I was always stuck in the real world. His mind...his mind was something else. He could free himself whenever he got upset, whenever he was alone or afraid, he could imagine a perfect scenario, that allowed him to escape from reality, if only for a small time. I...I just wish he would have used that ability.
We even dressed completely differently. Everything about us was different. I had white, cream colored eyes, he had dark, near black eyes. I was short, he was tall. I could handle anger, he couldn't.
He would always win the fight[/i]
I don't quite know what caused Clyden's fits of rage. All I know is that when they happened, no one could stop him. Not even my father, though my dad never really was the strongest of men. I was...I was so scared of those rages. I would run and hide, lock myself in my room and cover my ears as Clyden screamed and yelled and stomped and slammed. Sometimes I have nightmares about them, even now. I remember that, when he was in these rages, Clyden's strength seemed to double. I don't know where it came from, but anyone who tried to stop him or fight back against him was thrown, more likely slammed, into a nearby wall. Believe me, I tried one time. That's why my pinky looks all funny, because he broke it.
Bang bang, he shot me down[/i]
My hands are shaking now. I don't want to tell this. It's...it's... hard. I...
It was my mother's birthday. Those were always the best days. Always the ones filled with the most love and kindness anyone could imagine. My mother didn't need gifts to make her birthday special, no one in our family did. But it had become more or less a tradition for me and Clyden to pick these bright blue flowers that grew near our house and give them to my mother. So, on that day we did just that. Our hands ever so delicately picked them, and after a while Clyden announced that he was going to head back early and help our father with some things. I volunteered to stay and finish getting the flowers. I didn't know what was going to happen only minutes later.
I could hear screaming as soon as I got close to our house. I could hear a glass smash and a small yell of pain from my father, and my mind filled with worry as I knew what was happening. I didn't know the extent of it though... I...
I screamed as loud as I could as soon as I opened the door. On the middle of our living room floor was my father, his body twisted and in a weird position, dead. And in our kitchen, my mother, laying on the ground like our father with a wet and bloody wash cloth laying beside her. In the middle of it all was Clyden, his face contorted in a fury i'd never seen before. In his hands was a knife, shaking ever so slightly and, as he turned to me, I briefly saw his face change to an apologizing one, though I hardly had time to feel sympathy before I felt the cold and metal weapon he was holding plunge into my side.
Bang Bang, I hit the ground[/b]
I can remember suddenly hitting the ground, the blue flowers that I had been holding as a gift for my mother toppling onto the floor next to me. And then...and then I felt pain like I had never felt in my life. My own brother...my own blood was stabbing me repeatedly and un relentlessly into my back, my blood soaking through my clothes as I lay there.
"Bang Bang, that awful sound
When the stabbing finally stopped my vision was already blurry. And I could hear a sobbing and crying coming from Clyden as he got up and examined what he'd done. And then, through a near silhouette as everything was blackened I saw him raise the knife, and plunge it into his own heart, releasing a short but terrified scream before he dropped dead. That scream, that awful sound. It was filled with so many things. Love, anger, regret, everything. I can briefly remember screaming, or trying to before I passed out, not to die but instead to wake up to be laying in a hospital bed, doctors around me.
I cried a lot during the days afterwards. I wept for days on end, the doctors said it was a miracle I survived but I don't think it was. I feel like it was more of a curse than a miracle. I have no real family, I live with my wealthier aunt and uncle now and they try to show love, but it'll never be the same.
Though, maybe it was part of my personality, but I was done weeping by the fourth day, and I suddenly found the power inside of me to move on. To move on as if nothing had happened, but something did happen.
My baby shot me down[/i]
[/blockquote]Codeword: <img src="http://i41.tinypic.com/16h2ibt.png">
Comments/Other:
Song: Bang Bang
Nancy Sinatra[/blockquote]
Bonnia Ethned
Age: 16
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 5
Appearance:
[/img]Age: 16
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 5
Appearance:
i1296.photobucket.com/albums/ag20/LiamMailMr/Mobile%20Uploads/image_zps7daced70.jpg
Bonnia isn't incredibly beautiful, but she's far from ugly. She has brown, shoulder length hair that goes down to her shoulders and curls slightly at the end, for a reason unbeknownst to her.
Her body type would be defined as small and skinny. At a measly 4'9, Bonnia seems to be shorter than most other girls her age, not that it actually matters to her.
Resting on top of an oval shaped face are thinner eyebrows, with a slightly larger nose, though it is nothing that would really stand out to anyone who looked at her. However, the most striking, and perhaps unnerving feature of her are her eyes. They are nearly completely white, being a white that slightly more grey color that is only noticeable when people get very close to her.
[/blockquote]Personality:
History:
Bonnia is an incredibly intelligent person that is reeked with a horrible past. Because of this, she is often very guarded and tends to not show love to anyone.
Because of this, Bonnia often isn't very trustworthy, in fact, she'll betray you without any second thoughts, and she'll be done with you minutes later. However, just because she can't be trusted doesn't mean she has to let people know that right? Bonnia is often an expert in covering up her true self and replacing it with a kinder, sweeter and more loving Bonnia.
Though, Bonnia's strongest trait is definitely her intelligence and book-smarts, as well as her survival skills (which themselves branched off of her book smarts). She'll read anything she can get her hands on, which, with a wealthier aunt and uncle she can pretty much afford any book she wants, whether it be on survival or the Hunger Games, she'll read it, and she'll more than likely benefit from it.
[/i]
I was five and he was six
On November 20th, a boy was born. A boy by the name of Clyden Ethned. Exactly one year later, another child was born into the Ethned family, and was named Bonnia Ethned. That girl who was born is me, and I was asked to tell exactly what happened with my brother that day. Well, here goes something.
We rode on horses made of sticks
My family, the Ethneds, were dirt poor. And I mean dirt poor. A lot of the time, we could hardly afford to put food on our table, let alone get new clothes or toys. The one thing that kept us together though was our sense of unity. It was such a strong bond between all of us, and even after my brother's outbursts we'd only come out stronger, our love for each other only growing stronger. I don't know how my parents did it, how they stayed together and loved each other even though they could hardly afford anything. It was...amazing.
Perhaps the only bond stronger than my mother and father's was the bond between me and my brother, Clyden. I can still remember playing outside with him, how he'd make me toys and dolls out of sticks or twigs. He always was so creative in that way, while I was the one who was always logical, who preferred the realistic and sensible approach. Books were my pastime, they still are today as a matter of fact. But back when I was a child I could hardly read, let alone actually purchase a book. So, after I read a book on survival about a hundred times, I finally became bored with it and decided to move on. That was another thing that I guess spawned through my childhood, an incredible sense of patience or...persistence? I don't quite know what to call it. All I know is that I could recite that book torn cover to torn cover, still can today. I think that's something to be proud of.
He wore black and I wore white[/i]
Perhaps the reason me and Clyden were so close was because we were complete opposites. I was always stuck in the real world. His mind...his mind was something else. He could free himself whenever he got upset, whenever he was alone or afraid, he could imagine a perfect scenario, that allowed him to escape from reality, if only for a small time. I...I just wish he would have used that ability.
We even dressed completely differently. Everything about us was different. I had white, cream colored eyes, he had dark, near black eyes. I was short, he was tall. I could handle anger, he couldn't.
He would always win the fight[/i]
I don't quite know what caused Clyden's fits of rage. All I know is that when they happened, no one could stop him. Not even my father, though my dad never really was the strongest of men. I was...I was so scared of those rages. I would run and hide, lock myself in my room and cover my ears as Clyden screamed and yelled and stomped and slammed. Sometimes I have nightmares about them, even now. I remember that, when he was in these rages, Clyden's strength seemed to double. I don't know where it came from, but anyone who tried to stop him or fight back against him was thrown, more likely slammed, into a nearby wall. Believe me, I tried one time. That's why my pinky looks all funny, because he broke it.
Bang bang, he shot me down[/i]
My hands are shaking now. I don't want to tell this. It's...it's... hard. I...
It was my mother's birthday. Those were always the best days. Always the ones filled with the most love and kindness anyone could imagine. My mother didn't need gifts to make her birthday special, no one in our family did. But it had become more or less a tradition for me and Clyden to pick these bright blue flowers that grew near our house and give them to my mother. So, on that day we did just that. Our hands ever so delicately picked them, and after a while Clyden announced that he was going to head back early and help our father with some things. I volunteered to stay and finish getting the flowers. I didn't know what was going to happen only minutes later.
I could hear screaming as soon as I got close to our house. I could hear a glass smash and a small yell of pain from my father, and my mind filled with worry as I knew what was happening. I didn't know the extent of it though... I...
I screamed as loud as I could as soon as I opened the door. On the middle of our living room floor was my father, his body twisted and in a weird position, dead. And in our kitchen, my mother, laying on the ground like our father with a wet and bloody wash cloth laying beside her. In the middle of it all was Clyden, his face contorted in a fury i'd never seen before. In his hands was a knife, shaking ever so slightly and, as he turned to me, I briefly saw his face change to an apologizing one, though I hardly had time to feel sympathy before I felt the cold and metal weapon he was holding plunge into my side.
Bang Bang, I hit the ground[/b]
I can remember suddenly hitting the ground, the blue flowers that I had been holding as a gift for my mother toppling onto the floor next to me. And then...and then I felt pain like I had never felt in my life. My own brother...my own blood was stabbing me repeatedly and un relentlessly into my back, my blood soaking through my clothes as I lay there.
"Bang Bang, that awful sound
When the stabbing finally stopped my vision was already blurry. And I could hear a sobbing and crying coming from Clyden as he got up and examined what he'd done. And then, through a near silhouette as everything was blackened I saw him raise the knife, and plunge it into his own heart, releasing a short but terrified scream before he dropped dead. That scream, that awful sound. It was filled with so many things. Love, anger, regret, everything. I can briefly remember screaming, or trying to before I passed out, not to die but instead to wake up to be laying in a hospital bed, doctors around me.
I cried a lot during the days afterwards. I wept for days on end, the doctors said it was a miracle I survived but I don't think it was. I feel like it was more of a curse than a miracle. I have no real family, I live with my wealthier aunt and uncle now and they try to show love, but it'll never be the same.
Though, maybe it was part of my personality, but I was done weeping by the fourth day, and I suddenly found the power inside of me to move on. To move on as if nothing had happened, but something did happen.
My baby shot me down[/i]
[/blockquote]Codeword: <img src="http://i41.tinypic.com/16h2ibt.png">
Comments/Other:
[/center]
For Bonnia, what she lacks in strength she makes up for in intelligence and sheer survival skills.
Song: Bang Bang
Nancy Sinatra[/blockquote]
