^Distant {M E M O R I E S}^[Briar]

[Loony]

^Elmo^Drakken^

Elmo. The voice ricochets within my head, a soft but ever present voice. Shifting flawlessly from one tone to another. Ranging from my sister to the leader of the alliance. Whispering words of encouragement as I bang my axe into the side of a tree, then screaming words of hatred as I walk back from work. My mind fishes to keep my insanity, it works on keeping me attached to this world, where all I know is lose. Meanwhile, my memories encourage me to escape into a world where it is my only responsibility to cut, and cut. There isn't too much to me, other than my past, now I am a simple lumberjack.

You fool. Why am I alive? The question remains unanswerable, why me? The red haired, green eyed, tall boy. Why is he alive while his older siblings lie dead on the streets? Why is he still walking while his friends died trying to get freedom? My mind is struggling to grasp the reality of my situation. Can I even be considered alive? Can some one who has no living connections be considered alive? Can the boy who never did anything to deserve life, be considered alive? How can some one go on after losing a plethora of friends and family?

As the final tree comes my mind goes on to a different place. Where the cold streets are my mattress and my blanket is a damp newspaper. Where my brother and sister collect scraps, and then watch as me and my sister greedily eat them. "Elmo, eat, honey." My sisters voice is comforting, but her eyes speak of pain. I look up, offering her a few measly bread crusts. Her desire is clear, but her feeling of duty wins out, and she kindly denies my offer. I can't help but feel so useless as I eat the crusts. Tears threaten to leak out my eyes, telling her of my pain. "Elmo, don' cry, I want you to eat. I need you to eat. 'cause as long as you eat, I know I'm doin' my job." How could I have been so selfish? My sister starves trying to provide for me. Perhaps we were destine to die together, but I continued to fight. I should have died there, on that cold brick street. Why didn't I just die in my sisters arms? My mind returns to the present, and ten minutes have already passed. "Keep goin' Elmo, for me." Her voice is kind this time, so I begin my long walk home.

The day is a particularly hot one, these dry and hot days seem to occur more and more often lately. The tree's leaves are now tinged brown, and the air is crisp in my lungs. Its a dim observation, something that barely registers in my mind against their voices. How could I have been so naive to think that I should have kept moving? My sister, now that her brother and parents have died, is by herself. Her cheeks hallow as she looks at my sister and me, knowing that she can't provide for us, she turns away allowing the tears run freely. She believes that we can't see her tears, but doesn't realize that her entire body shakes as she tries to remember happy times. Her tears are unseen, but her sobs ring loud and clear. "Elmo you little prick. You bastard." Her voice is no longer kind, no longer quiet. No matter how quick the swing, it always hurts. From some one who claims to love you, who wants me to live for them, to some one who wants me dead. 

I walk the brick path, similar to my home just a few years ago, and notice an increase in young kids. The kids are relatively well dressed and well fed. I know that people who are like me don't tend to last very long in school. I only attended until I had a very basic understanding of grammar and math. I know 1+1=2 and i before e except after c. Thats about it. These kids don't seem like the typical characters from district seven. They seem better fed, faces rosy and showing hints of baby fat. How can I hide my resent? These kids do not understand lose. No judging Elmo. My squad leader's words ring true. He of all people taught me that. A boy from a wealthy family who believed so strongly in freedom. He fought valiantly till he was shot down. Usually he is a kind voice, never one to scold. I thought he was a great leader, so I do not let my resent show, and put on a calm face.

As I walk in the sea of faces the voices begin to grow louder, you killed us Elmo, your fault, why are you alive? I close my eyes, trying to quiet them. I blink repeatedly, the voices echo, causing vibrations. My mind is no longer attached to this world. Now I lay in a world full of the memories of tragedy. I let the memories rush through, each bringing forth a new and worse tragedy. I let it run it's course. I push my fist into my mouth, biting down until the pain and torture is gone. Opening my eyes back into the real world, I awaken into the world. Looking up from the ground I see the pretty face of a girl.

WORDS: 902