The Escape from Death, a Fresh Hell

The Escape from Death, a Fresh Hell Feb 28, 2011 19:10:47 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Bane on Feb 28, 2011 19:10:47 GMT -5

Karl Miller of District 3

[/u][/center]
Walking slowly, I found myself looking upon a huge, empty plain, featureless. Featureless, that is, if you ignore the giant stone pillar, towering above all. It seemed to be from the previous games, but many times taller. Unsure of what it could be, Karl approached cautiously, trying to stay aware of any possible traps. None of the other tributes had yet come to defile this ground with blood, but it would only be a matter of time.

Standing in the stone pillar's shadow shadow, I walked, head down. The shadow's of his own thoughts were enough to keep him so unresponsive. I had seriously injured so many. I, literally, had gotten blood on my hands. The voice had left me since the Bloodbath, so I didn't even have something to yell at for my crimes. To blame for my crimes. I had tried to really make myself think they had been his crimes. This hadn't worked. Whose hands had swung the sword? My hands. Who had been fighting for his own survival? Me. So now, I had my own thoughts, and the pain of the coming days, to pay for my horrible, inhuman actions.

The sun beat down, the only thing separating me and it being the huge stone pillar. Dragging a hand across its side, I drag the full back pack of my back into my hands. With a sigh I plop down, back supported by the cold stone that had not yet been touched by the cruel sun's rays. I had taken off my sweatshirt, but the black tee-shirt was still baking. The sweatshirt was still on my arm though, so I put it into the bottom of my backpack after I placed all its other contents on the ground.

Finally I decide to take stock of my situation. I have three water jugs, but all three are empty. My broadsword lies on the ground beside me, and give an angry punch to the metal, shaking my hand in pain as the metal doesn't give way. That was dumb of me, but I pass it off as I find the coil of fishing wire. What could I use this for? I didn't see a lake. I might not have seen one. In fact, I bet there is one somewhere I haven't seen. They like putting in a large body of water in the games lately, even if it isn't all it seems. So, I guess that is what the fishing line is for.

The next thing I find is a pack of iodine tablets. There are three of them, one for each of my water jugs. That should be enough water to last the games, I just need to find a source. The geyser obviously has some, but I'm not sure where the other sources, if there are other sources, could be.

Last, I pull out a medical kit. A smile crosses my face for the first time since the games began. Hastily opening the lid, I give a low whistle at what I find inside. Needle, thread, and bandages. This is fantastic! I can do something bout my injuries, when I get worse ones.

When I get what I've already dealt...

[/blockquote][/color][/size]

The Escape from Death, a Fresh Hell Mar 5, 2011 2:57:44 GMT -5

Quote

Post by phunke on Mar 5, 2011 2:57:44 GMT -5

I wish you were a song to play
I wish you had something to say

During the long passing daylight hours, walking became a mechanical function for Katie, so much so that she was able to doze while continuing to travel in a straight line. All she had to do was program her legs to the mechanical back-and-forth motion, and within around half an hour of leaving the Cornucopia behind, the girl was free to let her mind wander and cool down. Meanwhile, the sun baked her pale skin mercilessly; eyes screwed up to negate the sun's obstructing glare (she needed to keep her gaze fixed on that tall dark thing in the distance) made Katie's whole face tense, and that was where the skin twinged first. By the time an hour had elapsed from that first stage of burning, every visible part of the teenager's skin had begun to burn; several hours later, when the sun at last proclaimed its day over and surrendered to descent, her exposed epidermis was seared pink. Not knowing (much less recognizing) this feeling of sunburn, she nevertheless connected the hot, uncomfortable tightness on her skin to the sweat in her hair, the dryness of her throat. Choking heat. It was so very lonely, too; the girl wished she could have some company other than her little metal weapon.
Senseless tunes meandered through Katie's mind and with the monolith more clearly in sight she began to awaken from her trance. Night would arrive soon, much too soon. Adjusting her slippery grip on the switchblade, the adolescent placed herself under the dropped shadow of the giant stone creation, hoping to find even some temporary relief from the punishing light rays that twisted her eyes near-shut and tingled uncomfortably on her skin. Suddenly, Katie stopped dead: she'd only just realized that maybe twenty feet from her, at the foot of the monolith, was seated a boy. Though her first instincts prompted the girl to run away now, she lingered a moment long enough to process, and it paid off: she knew this boy, he was from her district. Without further hesitation, Katie crossed the remaining distance between them and sat down cross legged, offering a simple greeting of "Hey."
(It had never really occurred to Katie that beginning a friendly conversation was different in the arena and in normal life.)
Throwing the boy a quick smile and an uneasy glance at his sword, the seventeen-year-old female pondered the wisdom of a boy like this being allowed to hold - to use - such a dangerous weapon. But that, she told herself, was no question for the Arena. The answer was a given.
Night prepared its arrival and Katie did the same, removing her sweatshirt and bundling it up to be used as a pillow later on.