Coulson "Colin" Colburn - District 9 [DONE]

COULSON “COLIN” COLBURN

Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I pass myself down to my knees.

Oh hello, I see you're going through my picture collection. I took all of them, at least for the most part. A little confused about what it is? I think it's an old warehouse, I found it on the edge of the district. Looks like it's more or less abandoned, an odd sight around here. Here? That would be District nine. As for who I am, I might as well explain, there's not much that that pile of pictures won't expose. My name is Coulson Colburn, though my family often refers to me as Colin. I am eighteen as of this year, and I will be as glad for my nineteenth birthday as fearful. For when I reach nineteen, I won't be able to take the place of my brother's if they are ever reaped into the Games. I worry enough for my sisters as it is, but to have to worry for all of them... Well, there's not much I can do about it.

Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I fall through the willow trees, and I said.

Wait what's that you've got. Oh, it's a picture of me. Like I said, most of the pictures are ones I had taken, but sometimes my sister René sneaks off with my camera. Either way, it's a decent photo. You can see how my hair stands in blonde spikes, but it's not because of any gel or anything. When I get frustrated because of my sight I run my hands through my hair, or if I'm really annoyed I'll tug at it. It just kinda ends up staying like that because of it. You might also notice the way the angle lights my face, bringing out my nose and showing how it's a little large for my face. No, no I'm not shy about my flaws. But yes, it's easier for me to describe myself as though it were just a photo, and just implement the me's, my's and mine's as an afterthought.

It's hard to tell in this picture, though I'm sure there are others in there somewhere, but my eyes are a pale gray-blue. Mother says they remind her of the clouds in the sky just before it rains. You can see how my eyebrows arch over my eyes in shallow curves, with an angle on the top to make them appear more curved. Here I am thinking, staring off into space with nothing more than ideas filling my mind, but it's probably easy to tell that from the set of my mouth. My lips, normally an average thickness, are drawn tight. My face it shaped kind of squarish, though my chin forms into a point of sorts. It's not too bad of a look, or at least mother constantly tells me that girls would certainly find me handsome. I pay it no mind, though, I doubt that any girl would wish to deal with my condition. In all reality, it probably would be easiest labeled a disability and be done with it. Sadly, I will never be done with it.

Who will care for the falling?
Who will care for the falling... leaves?

I stand at a decent 6'0" tall, and I suppose my weight is about 150 lbs, or at least last time I weighed myself I was around 152 lbs so I'm guessing I'm somewhere near there. My legs are what give me most of my height, though I'm sure that my torso accounts for a bit more than one-third of my height. My shoulders, as you can see, are neither especially broad, nor muscular. I am not muscular in any sense, at any point in my body. I doubt I will ever be, because it takes working out to build muscle, and I can't work out. Not without breaking everything and possibly myself as well. It's hard to do anything active when you only see still pictures of the world. It's why I'm so good at reading photographs, and why I envy painters. I can't paint, I can't throw a ball, I can't even pour a cup of juice. Truthfully, I can do these things, but not anywhere near the point that most people can. If I paint, I don't know when to stop my stroke, I never hit my target with a ball and when I try to pour juice I only know to stop when I feel the juice dripping over the side of the cup. Not bringing a joyful image to your mind, is it? Sure I'm fit, but that's only from the ridiculous walks I take in search of a good photo spot. My life is built around pictures now, and it's funny how I'm captured in so many that my family has taken. I'm in pictures, I live for pictures, I see through pictures. My life is pictures.

Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I fall through the willow trees, and I said.

Oh, my factory picture, probably one of the grayest pictures I have, although I do love it. Especially with the way the emptiness just swallows you as you look at it. It's kind of majestic, but sad at the same time. Lonely almost. What? You ask why I like photos so much. Well, let me tell you a bit more about myself. I have a condition known as akinetopsia, more commonly referred to as motion blindness. It's gotten so bad that I basically see my life as pictures. My life has become a series of pictures, not so much in the sense how most people think of pictures. I'm not talking about the idea that I have a photographic memory, or that I have a photo for everything that happen. What I mean, is that I see in pictures. I raise my head, but I can't see anything change until I suddenly see straight and not downward. It's like my brain is playing a slideshow while everyone else watches the movie. I can't explain it any better than that. Sometimes, I wonder whether being blind might be easier.

Who will care for the falling?
Who will care for the falling?

Sadly, my condition makes everything difficult, as I have said before, and I have a hard time holding a job anywhere. Currently I've been fighting through a job at a factory, but it's not going well. At least I managed to get a position off of the conveyor belt so I could manage a bit better. I have to be very careful at my job, but I still mess up too often for my employer to not notice. I'm sure that I will get fired sooner or later, and then it will deplete from the little income we have as it is. It seems like the only things I can do right are take pictures and breathe. Even then, what use are they, a waste of time and a waste of air. If I were gone at least there would be one less mouth to feed and one less disabled body to have to watch out for.

When it gets to be too much, I try just shutting my eyes and not seeing for a while, making my way around my life and room without the use of my eyes. I find I'm not quite as clumsy like that, but it's not much of an improvement. However, there are things I enjoy seeing too much to stay that way forever. I would miss the pictures I take, I would miss seeing my parents and my siblings, for all they can be annoying it wouldn't go away with the loss of my sight. Besides, if I was meant to be blind, I'm sure I would have been. Fate has a funny way of doing things. Like with my condition, it makes me able to read pictures as easily as I read words, easier actually. I love reading books, it's something I can do with relative ease other than taking photos, and I'm pretty fast at it. It makes a difference when I can generally read within the time it takes for my brain to update. Half the time I just read most of the page before flipping it, and the image of the words stays in my head for enough time to read the rest.

Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands,
Tender, cool breeze, keeps me where I am.

Ah, that picture. It was a stupid move to try and take it, but I love it all the same. The forest looks so inviting, and the lighting is beautiful. I had to risk being caught when I slipped through the fence to take it. Luckily, no one noticed me, and the only people that have seen that picture are René, Juniper and Graham. And you now too, I suppose. It was nice to be outside of the District, even if it was only for a moment, and even if I knew that any kind of wild creature could pick me off with little problem. My sight would hinder me too much to allow me any kind of escape, I can hardly cross the street without running into everything and everyone. I think the local people have learned to watch out for me, both so as to not run into me and as to help me out of harm's way. I hate feeling needy like that, as though I have to rely on people to live my live.

I can't even tell my parents about it, or they'll do too much to take care of me. They have little enough time as it is and I could never take that away from the others just because of my condition. My family means too much to me to allow myself to drag them down. And so, I do the best I can to work and I try to find jobs aside from my factory job, but they never last long and I'm lucky to get a day's wage for them. My sister, René, made me a camera a few years back, and I have kept it since. I even got one of my friends to work on it and make it better. He was kind enough to do it free of charge, but I still feel like I owe him for it. Now it competes with some of the cameras used in the Capitol, though it still isn't the latest and greatest. I don't really care though, it is the most wonderful thing I could have. It makes me feel like I might be able to show people how life looks through my eyes. I take pictures at every opportunity, and I will line up consecutive shots to try and understand what movement looks like, but it's hard. I know how things move, I know why things move, but I just can't see things move.

Suddenly here, when I want to scream,
Autumn calms me down, keeps me in my dreams.

This picture, this is home. It's the house I have lived in all my life, and will probably live in for the rest of it too. I only wish I could move from here and unburden my parents of me, but for the moment I am too young, and I can't manage without someone to look out for me. Now, for some idea on what my life has been like up to this point, instead of just pessimistic thoughts about myself. I am the oldest of six children, and I find it to be my responsibility to take care of my siblings as best I can. Of course, I can only do so much, but back when it was just me it was only slightly less hectic.

I was only about nine months old when my mother got pregnant again, and I have no memories from that time. The seventeen years since then have more or less wiped my memory of then. My brother Graham was no fun while he was a baby, but then again I wasn't at the time either. And once again my mother got pregnant, this time it was almost two years after the birth of Graham. Now things became more interesting for me. I had started to become old enough to move about on my own, to make sounds with some actual meaning and to become curious about the world. When my twin sisters were born, Juniper and René, I watched them for a long time, trying to interpret the crying and babbling they made that I used to speak myself.

Then I went whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering
As I pass myself down to my knees.

It was almost as though my mother wanted to be a factory for children, because less than a year after the twins were born, oh look she was pregnant again. At the age of almost four, I was a fast learner by means of talking. I wasn't so good in the walking department and for the most part my mouth moved faster than my legs. I could manage words like "hungry", "tired", "play" and "uppy". Of course, I also called my mother and father by "mama" and "dada" but they were forming into "mommy" and "daddy" throughout my fourth year. When my youngest brother Malachi was born, I eagerly wanted to help in his care. My parents didn't have the heart to turn me down, but they mainly would assign me to simple tasks like watching him and talking to him. I knew to call them if anything happened, and I learned how to speak even better just so I would be able to teach my baby brother right.

I grew up trying to learn about everything, and I was never much interested in sports or physical activities. Of course, this was because of my condition, though I didn't know about it then. My parents didn't want to bother me with it if it wouldn't affect me very much. I was simply a bit slower at noticing something moving, and I was a little less coordinated than the other kids, it was no big deal really. By the time I was six I could read books that most kids twice my age would be reading. I loved reading, I loved learning and I was pretty decent at talking. My parents loved that I wasn't being affected by my condition, and that I enjoyed the world so much. Of course, at that age what kid doesn't?

It was around now that I had given up on trying to be really close to Graham. I had tried so hard to be his best friend, but it was obvious that, while I was his brother and he would never do anything to harm me, I wasn't the kind of person he wanted to spend all of his time with. So instead I hung out with my sisters, and watched out for Malachi. Perhaps it's because of all of the time I spent reading, proudly because I thought quite highly of my skill at the time, to him that he ended up being such a book worm. While I'm still at least on par with his reading speed, I don't read nearly as much or to the same level as he does. Neither of my sisters picked up on my love of books, but it was understandable. After all, René prefers her crafts and Juniper prefers her flowers. They're so similar, but then again so different. I guess it's because they're twins.

Whispering, whispering, those dew drops are glistening,
As I fall through the willow trees, and I said.

Ah the mockingjay picture. It's such a powerful picture to me, as much as it is delicate. This is because of how these beautiful birds caused such a blow to the Capitol. I'm sure you've heard the story of the Jabberjays, and how they went from essential information collectors to the biggest folly of the Capitol. When that happened, they then bred with the female mockingbirds to breed these little guys. Mockingjays are like a slap in the face to the Capitol, and I like having a picture of one wherever I go, like a good luck charm of sorts. Now, where were we?

To tell you the truth, I know little bits about my siblings that my parents don't. It's my job as the eldest to watch out for them, and because of this I had learned about things that aren't the purest of qualities. It's not as though I am an angel either, and sometimes I just turn a blind eye, no pun intended, if something happens. Such as René, I know about her little... habit. It's not like I couldn't guess when she gave me the camera. There was no way she could have paid for that. None of us make enough money, but I couldn't accuse her. I didn't just accept it because I wanted it either. To be honest, in the beginning I just used it to humor her.

Who will care for the falling?
Who would care for the falling?

I was around ten when I began to pick up on my siblings' secrets. And it was around then when my condition began to cause real effects. I couldn't play any sport worth a coin, I'd always be a few moments too late to dodge, to catch, to throw. I would trip over something right in front of me, even though I would swear every time that I never saw it. Some kids, the nicer of them I suppose, called me "the clumsy kid". It was a nickname that suited me, since I was always running into something or someone and I couldn't go a day without tripping on something. The meaner ones, though, would stick out their legs to trip me, or open doors in my face. They would tease me and taunt me, trying to get a reaction out of me, even though they found me simply falling on my face amusing. I never gave in to them, though. I owed it to my siblings to be strong, after all Graham and the twins were in school then. My actions would reflect on them, and I didn't want Malachi following my example, as he so often seemed to.

Twelve years old, I was finally able to put my name in for tesserae. I risked my neck by getting seven tessera, even though I had promised my parents to only get three. There was no way we could only live on three tesserae, and I didn't mind putting myself on the line for my family. Eight wasn't a very big number. When Graham had turned twelve he had taken out tessera too, though he never told us how much exactly, I guessed probably somewhere around the three that my parents had asked him to. They didn't want him risking himself too, but they knew at this point that I wasn't going to stop adding my name in an extra seven times. At thirteen years of age, I had my name in sixteen times.

We were doing pretty well, now that we were getting ten tesserae a year. Then the twins turned twelve, but as far as I know they have never put in for tesserae. I was fine with that, I would have been fine if I was the only one putting my name in for tessera, after all I always held the feeling of responsibility as the eldest. I forbid Malachi to take tessera, he was my favorite of us, and I really did not want him risking himself. I have the suspicion that Graham only took tessera because he felt it his duty after our parents asked him to. I wish they hadn't placed him in that situation, though it did mean a good supply of food for us. Fourteen year old, 24 slips; fifteen years old; 32 slips of paper. My name would soon be the only thing in that ball, or so I joked. No one else found it funny.

Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands,
Tender, cool breeze keeps me where I am.

These leaves, they caught my eye for some reason. The vivid contrast between the red-orange of the leaves and the blue of the sky was even more beautiful in real life. This picture just gives me the sense of calm, and that beauty can be found, even when things are getting dark. After all, leaves turn red and brown before they die, and then winter begins. Still, there is something in it that promises new life. Like the tessera I suppose.

By now my condition was so bad that it wasn't even funny for the bullies anymore. I didn't know whether I was relieved by that or not. I was sure they would target my siblings because of my weakness, but I have never heard if they did or not. I don't know if any of my brothers and sisters would tell me even if I asked. I tried to find jobs but my condition hindered me. I did my best, and I think some of my employers took pity on me, until they couldn't pretend any longer that I was helping them at all. Then I would have to find another job. Normally at sixteen boys would have their attention caught by girls, and be catching girls' attentions. However, the few girls that I had liked at that point either ignored me or just pitied me. I was too shy anyway, and I knew that I was more of an annoyance with my uncoordinated and ungraceful movements. I tried to pretend that I gave up on finding someone, but I never did. At sixteen, there were 40 "Coulson Colburn"s floating in the reaping ball. It's a wonder I hadn't been picked yet.

Suddenly here, when I want to scream,
Autumn calms me down, leaves me in her dreams.

This was around the time that Echo showed up. My father works at the local medical center, and is a pretty decent doctor, though he always denies his talent. A girl of about twelve or thirteen showed up there after being involved in a factory accident, and I had gotten out of him that she had received serious head trauma. Apparently, she could remember nothing of who she was or where she had lived before the accident, and now she had no one. No parents or relatives of any kind came to find her, and without a name they had no way of finding them. Then, maybe this is where I get my feeling of responsibility from, my father decided to take her in. We weren't exactly hard pressed for food, but money was an issue. I knew then that my duty was increased, but I never blamed my dad for it. I take after my dad's kind heart I suppose. Mom was somewhat opposed to the idea at first, until she met Echo, who was unnamed at the time. They decided to name her Echo, and adopted her as their sixth child. From that moment, I have always thought of her as my youngest sister.

I took eight tessera that year, though I think Graham continued with his usual three. He only had his name in eighteen or so times, which was still a fair amount even for a sixteen year old. I, on the other hand, must have taken up most of the ball with my 49 slips. Wonder of wonders, the odds, for all they weren't in my favor, never came around to drag me away. My condition, however, did come around, and not in a good way, I could now hardly walk across the street, and I gave up hope of ever pouring a drink for myself again. My parents would serve me things, when they were around, in order to spare me the danger of cutting or burning or somehow injuring myself in preparing the food. I was never much of a cook anyway, but I felt horrible for taking time away from my siblings to spend time with them.

And now, at eighteen, I am clinging desperately to the job I have. I need to make money in order for this family to survive, and I'm not doing all that great of a job of it. I will never tell my parents, though. They don't need the stress and worry that my failure will bring. None of my family does. If only there was some other kind of job that I could do that would bring in more money. Then again, this year I'll have my name in the reaping 58 times, so maybe I'll be reaped. If I won, which would be a miracle, I would bring home enough money to support my family for a long time. Even if I die, that's one less mouth to feed, and then my parents wouldn't have to worry about caring for me all of the time. Negative, I know, but it's the truth. No one else will say it, so I may as well.

Keep on falling down, they keep on falling down,
Keep on falling down, keep on falling down.

OTHER

FC: Hunter Hayes

Lyrics: Whispering by Alex Clare

Member of the Colburn family.

Words
165 - Introduction
614 - Appearance
963 - Personality
2271 - History
4013 - Total

Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands,
Tender, cool breeze, keeps me where I am.

odair

Suddenly hearing, when I want to scream,
Oh, please just cut me down, leave me in my dreams.