Harvest {ghostyperson + paris}

ghosty
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2,134 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Dec 5, 2022 12:52:02 GMT -5

Harvest {ghostyperson + paris} Mar 23, 2014 3:38:06 GMT -5

Post by ghosty on Mar 23, 2014 3:38:06 GMT -5

The bell rang at the community home; it was harvesting time. I went out first, and the main path was full, with stampedes of people pilling into the crowds. I push in, and began to push my way through. I finally get through, and the orchards are waiting. Quiet, but now slowing trickling in. I walk through the gates, and sauntered towards the nearest full tree. I start to climb it, as I hear the noise of a Tracker Jacker nest. I climb down slowly, and run away from the tree. I then hear the cries of a boy, about 10. He'd been stung, and all of the other Tracker Jacker's attacked him. I turn away and leave, silently hoping it ends quickly for him. Nothing more anyone could do for him.

~Paris~
Hunter

65 POSTS
last seen Oct 12, 2014 12:14:37 GMT -5

I hope my child is an avocado

Harvest {ghostyperson + paris} Mar 27, 2014 21:36:59 GMT -5

Post by ~Paris~ on Mar 27, 2014 21:36:59 GMT -5

Runyon Redpath
Does Thinks Says

I can only focus on the sun beating down on me, drawing me away from my work and into a spinning world. Barely able to read my Capitol-assigned watch, I realize that I have still another half an hour before the next water break. How can they expect us to work in conditions like this? Sweltering heat or not, the hours are unreasonable. But, apparently, the reasonability of said things is not in my power to contemplate. Back at my work and barley able to thresh the wheat, I continue on. The sweat drips down my face, my arms, my bare back fully exposed to the sun’s horrifying rays that burnt like the tail end of a whip. When I was younger, I used to think of the sun as something of a friend, bringing new days, lighting the way, and shining through the clouds when it rained. But now, it is my enemy, and, with a cloudless sky, it is taking a toll on its victims. So many things in life appear beautiful, perfect. But then you look at them from another angle and everything you have believed is skewed. That sounds familiar, I think as I look down at my watch. Only two minutes had passed since the last time I glanced.

Now I am nearing the end of my row, and my partner whose name is something like Jeff or George tosses my bag of wheat to the other side, where I wait to catch it. And so it begins again, another cycle, like everything else, working like clockwork, like everyone else, staying in line, just like they want. What else could I do? I look jealously at a young girl who sits comfortably under the shade of a tree, and a young boy who plays further away. I watch as she climbs deeply into the cool branches, and my skin tightens from the heat. Everything seems worse when the solution to your problems is within reach, just as you become more thirst when looking at a glass of water, or hungrier watching someone eat a full meal. Right now, I am hungry for the shade of that tree, a crabapple. What I would give to munch on those tart fruits right now-

“Psssst. He’s watching. I’d get moving if I were you,” Jeff or George or something like that whispers to me, breaking me out of my daze. I don’t dare look at the commander of this section, because I know that if I meet his eyes, it would be all over for me. But I am so close, so close to that tree now, if the sun were only a little lower, I would be immersed in glorious shade, and I would never leave. If only I could be a few steps closer…

Suddenly, screams erupt from my left, towards the tree, and I see a girl sprinting away from the boy under the tree. Looking closer, I see why he’s screaming. Tracker Jackers. Before I know it, I am up on my feet, following the girl and the rest of the harvesters as the swarm draws closer, closer. Then I think of the boy, probably dead by now, and I stop in my tracks. I want to go back, but it would be worthless, and I would end up killing myself anyways. I trudge on, slower this time, falling behind the others. I hear a buzzing behind me, and I know its too late for that boy. I couldn’t have saved him anyways. But where did the girl go? Did she escape? Where is she?

Last Edit: Mar 27, 2014 21:37:33 GMT -5 by ~Paris~

Reason #486 why we don't leave Paris alone in the Cbox

ghosty
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2,134 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Dec 5, 2022 12:52:02 GMT -5

Harvest {ghostyperson + paris} Mar 28, 2014 3:27:35 GMT -5

Post by ghosty on Mar 28, 2014 3:27:35 GMT -5

Aymie-Lily Wynters

•District 11•13 years•Female•

Main text:Testing
Speech:Testing
Thoughts:Testing

The screaming dies down, the crowd seeming to relax in that moment. I look down at the crowd, but couldn't help but think. Which one could go to the Hunger Games next time? I finally look down at the actual faces, and see the pain on their faces. Would any of these know him personally? I only knew him by working with him, but I felt like I've lost someone, who could of been my friend. d..d..Did anyone k..k..know him? Or hi..his fa..a..mily? I hate speaking out! That is why I keep quiet! But, it was needed. I silently jump to the next tree, and start to climb down.

When I got down, I turned to walk away, leaving the crowd behind me. But I stop, and turn back to the crowd. Should I leave him laying there? I run back to the crowd. c..c..Can some..someone help m..me get hi..is..his body? I..I can..can't just le.ee.leave him there? I start to walk away from the crowd towards the disfigured body, about 200 meters away. The sun, beating down on my head, is making me feel like I'm under a spotlight. I wander towards the tree he fell from.

I start to whistle the end of the shift song, over and over again. The mokingjays start to copy me, and I looked back at where the crowd once was. Looking at the shadows, it was about 3 in the afternoon. Why did I want to go back and get him?I shut my eyes, and open them again to see a small group of men. w..w..Why did you c..c..come? I di..didn't thi..nk you would.

Last Edit: Mar 28, 2014 12:40:58 GMT -5 by ghosty

~Paris~
Hunter

65 POSTS
last seen Oct 12, 2014 12:14:37 GMT -5

I hope my child is an avocado

Harvest {ghostyperson + paris} Mar 28, 2014 19:50:58 GMT -5

Post by ~Paris~ on Mar 28, 2014 19:50:58 GMT -5

Runyon Redpath

Does Thinks Says

I see the rest of the crowd go back to their works as the rest of the trackers disperse into the fields. The limp body of the boy is nothing more than a silhouette under the tree, somewhat disfigured and lifeless. Like me, the other workers were peering over their bushels of wheat at the scene in the distance. Is no one going to do anything about this? Find the boy’s parents? The girl even? Jeff or George or something like that is the first to duck his head away from the scene and continue his work. The others follow suit. But not me. I watch. I can’t help it.

“Hey you. If you’re so intrigued by it, why don’t you go clean it up.” The officer snaps at me from atop his post, and several carefully hidden eyes shift towards me. I didn’t sign up for this.

Each step towards the boy makes my heart sink like a boot in the mud. A few dying tracker jackers float lazily in the wind, waiting to die. Like me, like everyone else here. We are all really just waiting to die, waiting to be taken or robbed or relieved of the blessings and burdens we have. This kid got off lucky; he was probably starving like the rest of us, dying even. What I would give to take his place under the shade of that tree.

Before I know it, I’m standing in front of him, a mutilated mess of a child. Dead. As dead as something could get. So dead that I don’t even know how to handle this. Puss and blood ooze out of the dozens of stings around his body, arms, legs, head, bursting randomly. The sizzling and dripping of his wounds make him seem almost alive. “W…w…why did you come? I di…didn’t thi..nk you would.”

The small voice behind me startles me, but I turn around after realizing that it must be the small girl I saw resting in the tree earlier, the one who fled like the rest of us. Why would she flee? Why not just let it take her? What could she have to live for. By the looks of her, she probably has a loving family, friends, a meal twice a day. She has a lot to live for. So she ran. But why did I run? I have nothing to live for, no friends, hardly any family that matters. Running is human nature, surviving is human. But maybe I don’t want to be human anymore, I don’t want to be anything. Running really isn’t in my best interest.

“Um. I was told to… clean it…him… up,” I say, staring at the ground. I have to be careful. For all I know, this girl could be his sister, or friend. I don’t want to hurt anyone else. “Did you know him?” I ask, bending over to pick up the body, when I see that his eyes are still open, glazed over, but open. I close them, and it makes the task a degree more bearable. I’ve never carried a body before.

OOC: Whoops I had to change the FC

Last Edit: Mar 28, 2014 19:51:26 GMT -5 by ~Paris~

Reason #486 why we don't leave Paris alone in the Cbox

ghosty
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2,134 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Dec 5, 2022 12:52:02 GMT -5

Harvest {ghostyperson + paris} Mar 29, 2014 3:04:51 GMT -5

Post by ghosty on Mar 29, 2014 3:04:51 GMT -5

Aymie-Lily Wynters

•District 11•13 years•Female•

Main text:Testing
Speech:Testing
Thoughts:Testing

No. I..I didn't kn..now him. Bu..bu.t his par..parents sh..should b..be told. The boy who was told to clear him. How old was he, the boy who was told to clear him. 16? 18? I call after the retreating boy, carrying the body back. Ex..cu.cuse me! What was your name! I ran towards him and helped carry the body back through the fields. I needed to go back to the orchard, to some work. I walk slowly back to the orchard, and climb up the largest tree. What a day! What an eventful day.

I think back to the community home. It wasn't much, but I got fed well. More then that could be said to from the people who work here. And the bloody stutter! That ruins my life. All the time. I look down into my basket, still almost empty from a days work. I really should get working. I start to whistle quietly to myself as I work. A nearby Mockingjay picked up my tune, and looped it back to me. It then started, slowly but surely, to reverberate around the fields, my whistle. I filled the basket up and start to climb down the tree.

Even if I filled 10 baskets, the commander still wouldn't have been happy with what I've done. I've 'invoked panic into the workforce',apparently. I start to back away from him. That's a crime in District 11. Punishable by public whipping. Oh, great. Just what I need.

~Paris~
Hunter

65 POSTS
last seen Oct 12, 2014 12:14:37 GMT -5

I hope my child is an avocado

Harvest {ghostyperson + paris} Mar 29, 2014 10:53:54 GMT -5

Post by ~Paris~ on Mar 29, 2014 10:53:54 GMT -5

Runyon Redpath

Does Thinks Says

With the boy slung over my shoulder, much lighter than his swollen and bleeding body appears to be, I begin the much longer trek to… where? What am I supposed to do with a dead body? Bury it? Throw it away? Leave it on someone’s doorstep?It’s obvious that no one here knows who this kid is, maybe he isn’t really anybody. It feels strange to me to have him slung over my shoulder, a body without a heartbeat, without a breath. Empty as the world we live in.

“No. I..I didn't kn..now him. Bu..bu..t his par..parents sh..should b..be told” the girl speaks behind me.” Her stutter was more than enough to drive me insane, but I didn’t really have much of a choice than to deal with her. I doubt the overseer would take kindly to me yelling at a little girl. I turn around and see the boy’s shoe nearly hit her in the head, she was standing so close. “And how exactly do you want to go about doing that?” I retort, trying to sound condescending, but instead sounding like a complete tool. Well, kind of the same thing, so who cares. “It’s not like he has dog tags or anything. Unless you want to carry him in this heat, I would suggest keeping your mouth shut.”

I turn, leaving the girl in the back of my thoughts and refocusing to what exactly I was supposed to do. I could find a river and sink him? Or hang him in a tree and deal with it later? Nah, I think the doorstep plan is the best, that way he can get back to his family and I won’t have to deal with it anymore. But I can’t just walk through the village with a dead body slung over my head I mean, that’s just not right. This is too complicated.

“Ex..cu.cuse me! What was your name!” The girl calls to me. I don’t turn my head until I hear her steps coming closer. Suddenly, some of the weight is lifted, and she helps e carry the body. “I’m, uh, Runyon.” This is truly the strangest thing I’ve done all week.

“What now?” I ask, half ready to spew out my plan of sinking him in a river. I look over at the overseer, whose back is turned. God, if he saw this, he would think I’m weak. I might get fired, and then how am I supposed to feed my father and myself? “Actually,” I start, still looking at the turned overseer, “Thanks but I can do this on my own. I don’t need some little girl helping me.” I take back the body, whose wounds were starting to burst under the sweltering heat again, and continue on my way, towards the river. After all, what his parents don’t know can’t hurt them. Ignorance is bliss.

Last Edit: Mar 29, 2014 10:54:13 GMT -5 by ~Paris~

Reason #486 why we don't leave Paris alone in the Cbox

ghosty
Mentor

2,134 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Dec 5, 2022 12:52:02 GMT -5

Harvest {ghostyperson + paris} Mar 31, 2014 17:11:49 GMT -5 via mobile

Post by ghosty on Mar 31, 2014 17:11:49 GMT -5

pics.wikifeet.com/Alexandra-Dowling-Feet-1018034.jpg

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Aymie-Lily Wynters

•District 11•13 years•Female•

Main text:Testing
Speech:Testing
Thoughts:Testing
Singing:Testing

I was let of for the whipping. It was too close. I decide to go down to see how Runyon, I think his name was, was doing. Where they went was obvious to see; the drag marks, and the spewed pus turning my stomach. They were going to the river. Where we're banned from going. It's separated from the district by a small fence. I scurry along to the fence, and just in time to see Runyon go under the fence. r..r..Runyon! Wh..hat are you..u th..thinking! yo..You'll ge..get in..in..into trouble! He turns and motions for me to go away.

I push my way through the fence and go into the river. I go up behind Runyon, and I take my first real look at him. 17-ish, build like many working men in 11. He was about 5-10-ish? Dunno. Well, th..that was..was..wasn't very n..n..nice, w..was i..it? I o..only want to h..he..lp you. Runyon put the boy down slowly, and slid down next to him.

It was almost silent, except the sound of running water, and the faint popping of the body bursting. The pus, turning the grass a yellow-white colour. I open my mouth, and start to sing. A long, long way from home; the angel's start to sing, for another has joined their ranks. The sky is still sunny, but the air has turned blue. No longer with us, but I shall never forget. I walked over towards Runyon on the bank and sat down next to him. So, how's life?