:|| A p p l a u s e ||: { Preston One-shot }

[flyss]

{ S t a r t  P a r t  O n e }

Nothing goes as planned
Everything will break
People say goodbye
In their own special way
All that you rely on
And all that you can fake
Will leave you in the morning
But find you in the day


My fingers tangle themselves within the confines of my dirt-darkened lockes, and for a moment, I feel almost human again; after all, I can only become so distant before branching off into the corners of my universe and allowing my conciousness to fall into the crushing grasp of certain death. When that happens, I'm not entirely sure of what I'll do, but I do know that it'll wreck the foundations of anything I've given to the world thusfar. 

How far away is that, again? 

Sniffling once into the air-brushed blacks and browns that lace my paled arms like spiderwebs, I try to stand on my feet once again, but I fall. I'll always fall, I say to myself, a loose smile framing my lips like a stolen kiss to a sunset. But won't I get right back up? Quietly, I brush the dust and cobwebs from my legs and try again, this time with a bit more vigour than the last.

Success.

For seconds, and then minutes, I wonder around aimlessly. Nobody knows where I am- not even myself- and once I feel like all of my feelings have become obsolete to the world, only then do I stop to rest. I am nothing, I remind myself gently- a leaf on a twig- and once I drift off into the wind, I'll be left to wither in the absence of my home. Coughing lightly, I stare off into the sun like it couldn't kill me at any given time; stars are awfully gorgeous! I scream to nobody in particular, but everyone stops and stares like I've killed not only their sons, but their daughters, too. Why do I speak when I can fly, and why do I fly when I can speak? It's a question I'll never ask and an answer I'll never receive because the bottom line is- I'm dead no matter what happens from this point on.

When I count the cannons that roll through the arena like thunder, I pray to a god that I don't believe in that one of them isn't for myself or Asher. We're dying mentally, I shout again into the void. And we might not be dead, yet, but we're already gone. Every inch that's left of me thinks of how pissed the capitolites must be right now because god forbid the act fade away before they have time to applaud. But if I was being brutally honest, they wouldn't have had time to applaud anyway. 

We are a road show of death and children, and the only cost to join is your life. 

Everything will change

Nothing stays the same

Nobody here's perfect

Oh, but everyone's to blame

Oh, all that you rely on

And all that you can save

Will leave you in the morning

And find you in the day

{ E n d  P a r t  O n e }

[flyss]

{ S t a r t  P a r t  T w o }

I am a book without an ending, and there is no last page.

{ E n d  P a r t  T w o }