holes {inside} // puppy [drought plot]
May 29, 2014 22:47:49 GMT -5
Post by lyss on May 29, 2014 22:47:49 GMT -5
Denim Barnes
Thirteen|District 6
Thirteen|District 6
Words are life my dear
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“Do you understand the gravity of the situation?” Mama barked the morning Denim asked to be a volunteer.
“Judy, dear,” Papa murmured, stirring his thick oatmeal lazily. “I think the girl is ready. She is bright-very bright. She could make a great contribution to the irrigation system design. If that does not work out, then it says here she’d be assigned to medicine and nutrition. She’d be safe, I know it.” His fingers swirled absentmindedly in the above the wooden spoon before pinching the handle and shoving a bite in his mouth. “The only other way she’d get to travel to other districts is if she becomes a victor,” he spits solemnly.
“I don’t know,” Mama shakily voiced. “Do you even have someone to travel with, Denim?”
Denim racked her brains for names she’d seen on the sign-up sheet, but none came to mind. She was generally a loner; she could barely remember the names of her classmates. Finally, the name of the girl that had helped her days before popped in her mind. Yes, Lila. She had seen the name on the short list of volunteer sign-ups. “Lila Nightingale. You remember her, right? Or at least know her family?”
Mama’s head bobbed up and down dolefully and reluctantly gave in. “I trust you, sweet girl,” Mama cooed, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. She stroked the thin, blonde pigtails braided down either side of Denim’s head. Denim had never seen Mama so wounded, so vulnerable. It was rare to ever see love reciprocated from her.
“I promise I’ll be safe,” she whispered into the crook of Mama’s neck. “I’ll come straight home when it’s over, and I’ll try to see if I can write to you. Promise. Promise.
A few days later, the five or so volunteers were incited. The marched their way to the train station and loaded a train that was a prodigious amount less elegant than the ones seen on television dropping off tributes. There was no array of fancy Capitol food, no butlers or stylists or electronically controlled showers. The panache was gone. The Capitolite lifestyle had been long evicted from the train. Denim ran her bony fingers along the wood railings accompanying the window sills and plopped down on a quilted bench. Her eyes struggled to keep up with the blurry land racing by her window, and eventually let sleep succumb her mind.
District 11 was nothing like she’d pictured it to be. She imagined it as a lush land filled to the brim with orchards and crops. This day, though, it was nothing of the sort. The grass had wilted and shriveled up and all but turned into dust. The farms were barren and void of any crops. They were no animals in sight.
“Holy shit,” Denim heard a girl from upfront swear.
Denim pushed herself up on her knees and squished her palms against the now dirt covered window. She peered out at the vast wasteland and whispered under her breath, “This is way worse than I imagined.
Bouts of doubt began to swim in her heard. She wondered if she should have listened to Mama and stayed home; she wondered if she was in way over her head. As she clutched the railing on the way down the steps of the train, the saltiness of tears and sweat intermingled in her mouth. The heat pounding against her porcelain skin was overwhelming from the moment her bare calves stuck out of the train. Her pasty skin lit up like a Ratmas tree as she roamed around in the hot sun.
When Denim boasted that she was there to help design the irrigation system, the elder volunteers laughed and shrugged her off, sending her in another direction. Denim’s teeth slid over her lower lip and dug into the soft skin. A sharp pain shot up her body as she choked back tears.
After what felt like hours to Denim, a group of girls her age seemed to be doing various activities in a shaded area closer to what must be a town. The boots she was provided with slapped against the hard ground as she slowly trudged toward the group. Her parched throat screamed at her body for water, and her eyes had to repeatedly apologize, for there was no liquid for miles. She approached the group with long, ragged breaths, hoping to see if she could find a companion. A girl standing towards the back of the group had an appearance similar to her own, Denim figured it was as good as a start as any and made her way over to the girl.
Unsure of if the girl would even care to make conversation, Denim only peeped out a shy, "Hi."
