storm clouds rolling in [kiah]

[arx!!]

« ♒Annora Krearns♒ »

District 4 - Sixteen - Of The Sea

Mom told me this morning that she wanted some seashells. When I asked her why she only shook her head, her eyes brighter than I had seen them in quite some time. "It's a surprise, darling." And before I could protest, she kissed me on the forehead, the tubes on her face pressing against my skin, burning red hot. But when she pulled away I made sure to smile for her sake. I just nodded and resigned to the fact that I would come home with no money today.

And now I'm walking along the beach, scouring the sand for the most interesting shells I can find. I feel like I am 6 years old again. I can remember when I was little and my mom was still healthy and she would bring me down to the beach. She was even strong enough to carry me on her shoulders then. Now she can barely walk. The bitter part of me tosses shells angrily into the sea, crunches them underfoot, but the grateful part of me - undoubtedly much, much smaller than the angry portion - smiles at the ocean and dreams of the past where everything was still okay.

I walk along the shore and the water washes up around my feet, droplets splashing on my knees as I continue as I kick at the waves like the orphan children further down the beach. I have to fight the instinct to reach for my mother's hand. It's been so long since we have been here together and still I am reaching for her hand - a hand that will never be there again, not as long as she is still sick. Which according to the doctors will be forever. Even as she rots in her grave the sickness will follow her. I can only hope that when she finally leaves, her soul will not be infected and she can fly away to heaven and escape from the illness that has tied her down.

I hear thunder rumble distantly and as I watch the skyline I can see lightning flashing in the sky - I smile. The air is still cool, the sun not yet reaching over the horizon or bursting through the foreboding clouds in the distance. The rolling ocean looks black, the sand looks dull, but the bag full of seashells sparkles and shines so brightly I am sure that I have a mermaid's scale hidden within the pile of shells. The books under my bed told me they shine brighter than even the sun. My mom told me that's why my skin looks like it is glowing in the dark. And I used to believe her - I really did - but ever since childhood innocence left me, I could not make myself believe the stories I once had.

The Greek goddesses of the sea, the mermaids and sirens and sea serpents ... all of my belief in fairy tales and myths is gone. Except I still believe in the brightness of the mermaid scales. Because even on the darkest days, there are always bright flashes of hope.

Thunder rumbles again and a gust of wind tells me the storm is getting closer, but I keep searching for shells. My bag is already stuffed full, but I know that if I come back with anything less than a hundred shells my mother will be disappointed. Her little project may be a secret, but I still know her. She enjoys the extravagant. And so I sit at the high tide line amongst piles upon piles of shells, and search for the prettiest ones as the impending storm threatens overhead.

[k!ah]

M A G N U S

The sky was angry.

Clouds rolled like bulls raging, the boys eyes watching as they argued with the sun. They win, smothering the sun until the land is blanketed by their rage. Her watches as the ocean tugs at the earth, its churning waters usually a deep green as black as the ink he uses to draw. He watches as it crashes to the shore, climbing the sand trying to steal him from the earth clutches, his feet only centimetres away from its clutching hands. He knew that as soon as he set foot in the ocean he would be gone, he would be prey to the greater power. So he stays away, teasing it.

It always fascinating him how quickly the day could change. Just this morning the sun had been shining brightly, its rays of warmth bringing happiness as it gentle caressed the citizens of Four. And then, in the blink of an eye the clouds had come rolling in, cutting off that happiness replacing it something more sinister. But her didn't hate this feeling, in fact he quite liked it. He liked the way the ocean could effect his mood, making him want to shout in rage, the waves shouting back until this voice was raw. The ocean would win and it would rumble it approval, continuing its endless rage.

But today he does not shout, instead he just watches, his mind memorizing the way the ocean moved, all the colours, all the texture, imprint them into his memory. This moment would not be lost because as soon as he returned home he would re-create it, his own fingers a god as he created this new world.

Then there is a new subject to his world. She wanders along the beach, her feet leaving small imprints in the sand. Her golden hair does not shine in this light, nor does her pale skin but their is something else about her that draws the boys attention... maybe it was the way that she walked, or the way her eyes seemed to dance with something dark, something more sinister that the world around them. He didnt know what it was all he knew that he found himself drawn to her, his mind racing as he imagined her face on paper- but instead of wearing this mask to hide her emotions, her face would be free, the pain that she tried to hide would be the main focus.

He stands in front of her now, his eyes still searching her face, her deep blue eyes, the small freckles that dotted her cheeks, climbing the bridge of her nose like vines. He doesnt bother with formality as he begins to speck, his eyes matching the curiosity which weaved itself between his words, "why do you hurt?"

{ words : 460 }

{ credit to: zoë }

PAINT ME A PICTURE

[arx!!]

« ♒Annora Krearns♒ »

District 4 - Sixteen - Of The Sea

My thoughts drift like a row boat over the waves of the ocean. I remember when Mom and I would sail together. It was years ago now, a time before the cancer had swept across her body and confined her to a wheelchair. I remember how she used to hoist me up on her shoulders so that I could see farther and wider across the great expanses of the ocean. I remember then that I believed in myths --- mermaids, sea serpents, gods and goddesses of the deep, all so real in my tiny little brain. I was cuter back then, more approachable, less of a bitch, more optimistic. Youthful. Innocent. Naive. It was beautiful, that time where nothing could go wrong.

But all fairytales end. And in Panem, there are no happy endings. So the myths turned to lies and my Mom lost her sea legs and I was left to scour the beach for shells alone. I sailed alone on the days I went out. I swam alone, walked alone, bargained alone, alone, alone, alone. I was a 16 year old girl with no friends and one dying family member. I had nothing. I was nothing, not really. Nothing more than a name in a bowl, an offering to President Snow and his loyal followers.

Nothing.

I use a shell to dig idly in the sand, my hands itching to do something --- anything --- so that my mind might not recall such painful memories. Nostalgia was a form of weakness; I could not be weak. I had too much to do, too much on the line, a mother that needed me. I could not weep, nor could I sing beautiful songs of mourning like the sirens. I had to remain silent, strong. For her sake. She was being strong even as her frail body gave out on her. What had I done to deserve to be weak?

I toss the shell into the waves where it disappears in dark depths and white foam. Thunder rumbles again in the distance, the clouds rolling closer and closer, rain pouring over the ocean in sheets of gray on the horizon. Impending doom. That's what came to mind looking at the storm front. But I wasn't about to move. Not until I was forced to rush through torrents of rain and monster waves to get home.

A figure breaks into my field of vision. A pair of legs, a voice to interrupt my thoughts. A question from a stranger on the beach.

"Why do you hurt?"

I look up at him, not sure whether I should be irritated or curious. Seeing right through my tough-girl, big-girl, grown-up act. I hate him. He should ignore the vulnerability; it was rude to do otherwise. If he could see the pain, then he too should be able to see how desperately I am trying to conceal it.

"I don't hurt," I snap, though my voice sounds small and less threatening than I had hoped it would be. "And who the hell are you anyway? I don't know you." I get to my feet now, brushing the wet sand off me to no avail. "And you don't know me."

So why then are we even talking?

[k!ah]

M A G N U S

He wanted to paint her picture. He wanted to watch the colours weave together, mingling until they formed an image that may not be identical to this girl, but an image that was raw. An image that reflected who she was. But he couldn't. Whenever he imagined what the image might look like it came to be blurry. He couldn't image the features of her face, the curve of her nose the flecks of light in her deep blue eyes. He could see none of it because she hid it from him, wearing a mental mask, blocking him and all those around her out. 

The question slips past his chapped lips igniting the rage deep within the girls blue eyes. Turning them into a burning furnace of blue flames. Slowly her image became clearer, slowly he was breaking through without her even noticing. He almost smiles, his lips fighting to hook up slightly, but he holds them down, his hands finding home of his hips as the clouds rumble around us, mimicking this girls rage. Turning his eyes up to the sky for a moment he watches as the clouds move furiously across the sky. The sun was gone now, the clouds defeating it without much difficulty. But they don't dance with victory, they continue their war, challenging the citizens of the earth. 

"I don't hurt," her voice fights with the storm, but just like the sun it is defeated. His eyes find their way to hers again, the question of why she didn't fight harder on the tip of his tongue only to be bitten off as the snake strikes again. "And who the hell are you anyway? I don't know you." The words are laced with venom, biting at his skin painfully. He had not meant to offend the girl, he had just wanted to know why she hurt, he just wanted her to remove the mask that hid a master piece. 

But who was he? He was just a stranger on the beach, observing the battle fought above. He was just a shadow in the war, a fallen warrior. He watches as she stands to her full height, her delicate fingers dusting off bits of sand that clung to her clothing.  "And you don't know me."

That was true. He did not know her, but he wanted to. He wanted to know her, he wanted to understand her. "Thats true." Maybe her cold voice, or toxic words should have thrown him off. Maybe her should have averted his eyes, looking for a new subject, a new image to paint, to create, to bring to life. But he couldn't leave. He found himself having to know, having to know why their was pain deep within the furnace of her eyes. "And maybe it isn't any of my business." His head tilts to the side, "And maybe I am no one, but you still hurt. I can see it. The pain... It looks familiar almost." 

And thats when her features slowly became clearer. 

Because he knew that pain.

He sees that pain everyday in the features of his siblings. 

"I'm sorry." 

{ credit to: zoë }

PAINT ME A PICTURE

[arx!!]

Annora Krearns

"That's true."

I begin to shove past him, my rucksack full of shells clanking and clicking together to create a symphony as I adjust the bag on my shoulder. That's right, it is true. I'm thoroughly exasperated, my head beginning to ache at the very thought of continuing this conversation. Who did he think he was? What made him think he could talk to me as if I were broken? Weak?

"And maybe it isn't any of my business," he says, making me turn to face him again. I had thought I had made it clear that I wasn't going to talk to him. But clearly he was persistent, maybe he even thought he was irresistible—though I very much doubt it based on his appearance. He was no Career. Not enough muscles, not a big enough ego. I glare at him as he continues, planting my feet and readying for a fight.

But he simple cocks his head at me—cheeky bastard—and continues. "And maybe I am no one, but you still hurt. I can see it. The pain... It looks familiar almost." I keep glaring. Maybe if I glare long and hard enough he will simply vanish into thin air and leave me in peace to watch the waves roll across the sand and the listen to the storm roar overhead.

I try to convince myself he can't see something that isn't there. I had eradicated the last bit of visible pain I had years ago. Sure I still ached, but never in front of people. I had to hide it from my mother for her own sake and from everyone else simply so they would leave me alone. I'd done it since my Mom was diagnosed. There was no way he saw it, the storm that brewed beneath my skin, deep within my heart. There was no way he saw the sleepless nights and rivers of tears streaming down my face.

There is no way he can see it.

But he's persistent. He insists. He must see what I refuse even to feel. How? I had done so well for all these years, hardening my shell and fending people who doubted me off with my claws. How could he possible see? But that didn't matter. I was still right: He doesn't know me.

"I'm sorry."

It was my turn to cock my head. For what, boy? For what exactly are you sorry? Sorry for pissing me off and disturbing the peace? Sorry for bothering me? Sorry for judging me? Sorry for getting me all wrong? Sorry for the hurt that apparently is so obviously consuming me? Sorry that we both have to exist in a world where children can't expect anything more than a sad, sorrowful, painful existence? Sorry, sorry, sorry. Aren't we all?

I take a few steps back towards him, thunder rumbling over my shoulder. "What are you sorry for exactly?" I ask, folding my arms. "Give me the an answer I like and I'll tell you whatever you want."

I smirk because I know he will fail. Everyone does.

Everyone always disappoints me.

“You belong with me,

not swallowed in the sea.”

ooc: sorry this took so long k!ah x: xoxo<3