Channing "Troll" Sicilly :||: D7 :||: FIN

"Once upon a time, you and all your kind lived underneath bridges, had ridges for ribs that dropped off into empty chests, as if your hearts were all stolen treasures. As if an excavation crew were hired to dig up and remove the part of you that let you feel."-Shane Koyczan

    Your hair draped over either shoulder, framing your chest with fiery strands of chestnut. It was long and wavy, entangling within pieces of bark and moss from your long day in the mill. The sensation of shampoo easing along your scalp was a rare sensation. Almost never feeling the slippery concoction settle into the palm of your hand. Washing up was a thought you never spent much time dawning on. You let it fall, and bunch, and build, in its own natural way. Never wanting to intervene with its schedule. Of course this caused for your natural scent to escape you, filling the nostrils of your near by accomplices. It may have caused for the taunts and teasing's of others, but It was you. A blank canvas never touched by the remedies of time. Your eyes matched that of the tree tops. Green, green like the swaying branches in the wind and the sprouting grasses at your feet. A green so vivid it didn't change with the seasons like the green around you did. It remained true to its color, never fraying from its natural order, much like your hair.

    Your ears were pointed, jolting out at the highest peak of its framing. Making for an abstract appearance. They were large and crooked, yellow at first glance. Your teeth, also rarely feeling the sensation of paste amongst their surface. Your speech in turn was foul, and head turning. Avoiding your breath, was a need that the listener would have to accomplish. Your chin was wide, and square, making a platform for the length of your neck. So long and tall, stretching like the tallest buildings In Panem. You of course weren't considered the least bit beautiful, but the imagination of others didn't bother you. For you had found your other half long before any of them had. Some may have seen some kind of beauty in your appearance, but it would take a mothers love to care for a face like yours. But maybe a mothers love was more common then you would have thought.

    Your heart was throbbing, full of life, longing for the compassion of another's beating at the tempo of yours. You were desperate for love, maybe not love, but care. It wasn't a relationship you were interested in, its not that you would have minded this, but all that you desired was a deeper connection with another human. You enjoyed running, running alone the bare hills of the empty forest. The forests that have been chopped and ruined by the hundreds of lumber workers in your district. It made for a decent passing time, but seeing the bleeding stumps of the deceased trees, made you quiver. You couldn't help but let a burning tear stream down your dirty cheek in compassion. You were caring, but could this be mistaken as fear? No, of course not, fear was far from what you felt. Fear was a joke in the world you live in. There was no room for fear, so you replaced it with love. Every tear was love, whether it was a lose or a gain, it was love, never fear.

    Your face was full of fascination. You were intrigued by the world around you, scouring the district for new sensations, and imagery. You had a love for your world, maybe you just haven't quite found all of its secrets, but you were willing to keep looking. You have gone as far as leaving the district boarders for discovery. This has resulted in a lot of drama and banter between you and your family, but they couldn't confine you, you were a free spirit. Constrictions made you shiver, you were quick to leave any situation that made you uneasy. This resulted in a lot of running from your problems. Many would consider you to be a coward, but you thought it smart. You ran from most situations, whether it be literal or emotional. Fear if living a life in fear, was taking up so much of your thoughts, though you refused to admit it.

    Your mind orbited around this sensation of loneliness. seeing as though you have been alone your whole life. You would think it would be accustomed, but it wasn't. Being alone, drowning in your own thoughts, and freezing in your own pity, made you sick. You were in need of companionship, friendship, family. Without a soul to talk to, it became hard for you to remember this thing called speech. It had become so foreign to you, that simple words became hard to say. Seeing as though you never had much of a language teacher growing up, you can barely carry a simple conversation. You made due with you communication, being able to express what you have to, but you never would seem as intelligent as the other girls. In fact you were very intelligent, at least when it came to survival, and wood work. Even simple things like construction, and food preparation, but you just weren't much for reading and writing. You never understood why such a basic concept like reading or writing, has become such a huge necessity in the world that you live in.

    You are called "Troll" not because you cant say your name, or because of your lack of communication in general. But purely because of your physical appearance your community has tagged you with this title. You rummage the streets alone, practically living under bridges, and maybe that's were the name comes from. You never knew who your mother and father were, they were distant memories amongst many. You were raised by mother June, a kindly elderly women in your district. But she could only provide for you, until year twelve. You were expected to work and pay for your own expenses by that age. Mother June always offered you a roof over your head in the winter, but any other time it was up to you. Learning the cruelty of the world at such a young age. Yet you still found beauty in a mirror that never reflected beauty back.

    The world tormented you and beat you down, but you still drove to understand it more. Your belly was rarely full, and scavenging for food was the only option you had. Sometimes stealing was in order, for you to survive. Though your appearance was enjoyed by few, many still considered you to have a curious beauty. Almost like the youthfulness in your face, gave you a glowing attractiveness. You weren't half bad at hiding your crooked teeth or pointed ears, but it was hard to keep your mess of hair form the attention of others. This slight beauty is what landed you the compassion of a young boy. The boy who stopped to give you fresh fruit and keep you company over a long spring morning. He had found the time in his day to comfort you, and this gave you hope. Hope that one day love would find you, maybe a home, decent living, or to see the blood of your own running through the hills in laughter, just as you have for so many years.

    "If you cant see the beauty within yourself, then buy a better mirror, look a little longer."-Shane Koyczan