Glances of Promise (The Hunger Games Fanfic)
Another fanfic - in honor of me not tearing up over the film. I'm on depression mode where I get this painful chest thumpings and horrible thoughts, okay. I'm not looking forward to the ending of this, but I'm getting into the part of life where I'm a masochist, so yeah.
Keep Your Hopes Up
And so I sat there, back on the rock, naked except for the shirt and jacket and the pants. Without any underwear, or the belt for that matter, I felt very exposed, even though I only didn't wear spare garments. They were laid out there where the sun hits the spot on the rocks.
The wonderful mist ever growing in numbers even if that didn't make any sense, I could make out a figure on the woods, farther than we could reach. There seemed to be a barricade in the way, though; lined up rubbles and sacks and logs of trees were a huge fence. They could have simply used electrocuted barb wires; one touch, blam. But there would be no fun for the capitol, of course.
During the training, I focused on weapons the easiest to attain. That said, it was the art of stabbing with a knife. Not the kitchen knives you use to chop carrots. More like butcher knife; the one you can use to chop flesh.
I felt my stomach grumbling, and I stood up, feeling more exposed that I wanted to forever keep myself in the fetal position.
I approached the barracks, careful to keep the balls of my feet neutral; I didn't need the pain to keep reminding me of reality. I took a deep breath, intending my bravery to build up inside my chest as I placed a hand on a log, lifting half of my body up as I gazed at what lays ahead.
It was a vague form; I think I saw some red through the fog. When I jumped down from that log, I felt the shock taper through the veins in my feet and I gritted my teeth and blew out my cheeks. I wanted to curse, stab anything, do something crazy to release my rage. But somehow, I started to control it.
Well, if I can do that, I can very well try to live.
I felt courageous today, and with that feeling came my power to continue walking to that vague appearance - but I'm thinking right now, if this is being aired, that I am a shame to the district. Courageous must have meant careless and ignorant. Or maybe they would have just thought that I was losing hope.
I miss the days when I were just treading through the smoke-polluted corridors of my school. I liked the academy more than the house I was forced to call home. To be completely honest, the academy was more of a home than that house.
I would walk carefully, avoiding anyone's gaze and going on with the studies. If I were to make it big, I need education. But that education proved to be futile now.
My foot then encountered a prick in the skin separating my big toe and the one next to it. Deep breath. Puffing out my cheeks, I continued to tread on, curious and definitely not having a thousand thoughts interrupt my brain just to be forever oblivious as to what lays on.
Pain, fear and hope was stirring up inside of me, and so far, the former ones are winning.
Right - I have to keep my stupidity strong. The fog increased, and it blurred my eyesight and interrupted my breathing. I coughed, covering my spluttering mouth with a fisted right hand then rubbing it on my pants.
I continued on, just shrugging out my inner urge to stop, turn back and just be alive. But curiosity was strong. It devoured my physical senses. I ignored every hesitant being that represented me; the girl named after good speech.
What I saw made my face contort into a blank facade; my quizzical look.
There seemed to be a small, sad little building there. It was made up of white bricks with a space in the center acting as a door, and small squares on the side like a window. The bricks just seemed to have been skipped being put there, though. There was two steps to the space that was probably supposed to be a door.
I entered, my bare feet splattering the cold, cement - I think - floor. "H-hell-lo?" I voiced out. My voice echoed.
The room - I think it was a room - echoed it, and I observed this place all around. There was a bed without a mattress and a chair. The mattress was pushed up onto the wall, just beside the window. Low enough so you wouldn't get seen, high enough so you could see outside. The chair was on the other side. They were both a bland metallic color, shimmering in the probable artificial morning light.
But the most uncanny piece in the queer place was the vibrant red chimney. It had a vase on the protruding top of it; slim at the neck, bulbous at the bottom. Inside that vase was an elegant flower -- wait, was that a real narcissa? I think it is; I've read about it and saw an illustrated photo.
Why would an object - two, actually - be here in this place?
Oh no. No, no, no. Please, goodness, no.
I'm hallucinating. I swear this would've stopped by now. Please, no. I slapped my hands to my ear, my eyes tightly shut. I dropped to the ground too. I counted up to five, each second lasting like a minute, and chewed on the skin under my bottom lip as if it was my food for two days; which, in a way, it could be.
When I opened my eyes again, this felt very real. And reality comes with the fact that I am here, in the Games, awaiting my death either by artificially-made natural calamities or by the hands of another person. There was the sound of insects chirping.
I could practically hear the game makers grin and say, "She's fallen for the trap."
Graduating tomorrow. Got told both of my parents aren't attending. Aunt became biitchy.
Classmate who gave me food when I had none sent me a creepy message. "bye bea" which is word per word. I'm scared. And very aware that life is very real and suckish and everything I wish I never had. I had this feeling before, worse, actually.
Thanks for caring, bye.