Start a fire {Arrows | Blitz}

.: CHASKE PARKS :.
{district nine : 69th tribute}

Starting a fire should be easy, but honestly who cares if I can start a fire? Who cares if I can do something like the rest of the world. Showing off isn't a way of life, and nobody will what I do until the world stops existing. Right now I'm playing the game. I'm playing along pretending I care about all these fucking stations, but for now, I don't. Training is stupid. Who needs to learn to fight? Some of these kids look like they could die in a second, but here I am standing along with them pretending to care. Yet as I strike the matches against the box, a flame dances before my eyes, and I grin from ear to ear.

That's when I turn around noticing this kid starting a fire with ease like he's done it before. And I can tell by looking at him, the vibe flowing from his body, that this boy is a cocky son of a bitch. One that believes he knows every fucking thing in the world, but for now, I don't care. Shrugging my shoulders I turn around carefully removing another match from the box. Striking it against the box, I watch the flame grow stronger and stronger, but when I look at the kid again it's like he's wanting to show something. He's wanting to prove how stupid he is. And all I can do is sit here and let him.

"Didn't your mother and father ever tell you it was fucking rude to interrupt someone?" It's a question one meant as a challenge, but my voice is calm. No emotions spread across my face - it's a blank mask. One that hardly anyone can read. But waiting for his answer I strike another match on fire holding it in front of me staring at the flame, and my eyes shift from the flame to the boy and back to the flame over and over wondering what his game plan is. Sooner or later, he'll find out mine.

.: CHASKE PARKS :.
{district nine : 69th tribute}

And I sit there in silence watching the flame waiting for him to speak. Waiting for him to start a fight, but what I get is far from that. For a moment it's silent, but he speaks. And his words bounce through my mind over and over before permanently embedding deep into my brain. The words catch me completely off guard, and for once I'm not sure what to say, but at least I don't allow any signs of curiosity show on my face. It's the same blank stare. One nobody will ever figure out.

His response is impressing. One that I want to know, to understand. Thinking about the pain, the life, everything about having parents who taught him. Who tried to tell him how to live life, and he's throwing it away like it's nothing. Like he had control of his life. Mother and Father never wanted this for me. They hated me. Told me how I was stupid. That life wasn't worth living, and for a while I believed them. I wish I knew what it was like living like life was better than what it truly was. Like I owned my parents, and they didn't own me.

I strike another match quickly going through the box not caring because there's more where it came from. All I have to do is stand up and get another box, but this kid is standing in my way. Something about him intrigues me. Something about him screams my name. Like he's not here to hurt me. Like he's a friend, but who needs friends? They're all enemies, and talking to him isn't the best option. It would be easy to turn away and just ignore him.

That's what life's all about. Making friends and pushing them away like they're nothing. Instead of speaking to him, I turn around continuing to play with the matches. Maybe if I ignore him enough, he'll walk away.

Let's hope.

.: CHASKE PARKS :.
{district nine : 69th tribute}

Silence is deafening. The world seems so much louder. Each time the weapons clash against one another the as the war rages on. And I sit here watching the flame on the match grow larger and small like wind shoots through the gym. It's a closed in space, so even thinking something like this is possible, is beyond my wildest imagination. Instead of moving away, I sit here with my knees drawn to my chest enjoying life as it is. No worries in the world. Nothing makes sense anymore, and all I can do is take it all in.

Sometimes it feels like a puppet dances inside me fighting to grab my strings and control me. Controlling my body seems like it's what they'll want, and I can't do anything about it. All I want is for them to go away. For the monsters to die. And I don't move. I just stare unable to think. Unable to jump. Every breath feels so foreign like the lungs don't belong to me. Like I have nothing to do with them. My heart bounces inside my chest leaping like the wings of a bird flying through the sky. And I can't change a thing.

And finally the silence is broken. The boy here is speaking. In a way, it makes me angry because he's not leaving, but the anger is quickly wiped away with curiosity. Why does he care so much? Why won't he just leave, yet my emotions stay the same. A blank mask sits on my face hiding how I truly feel. Over the years I became good at it. I learned so much. Showing my father nothing was wrong, yet it never helped. And I survived. I survived the torture. He calls it spunk.

"Well.. Whatever this spunk is, I must've had a lot of it. Surviving is second nature. Nothing will ever change it."

Nothing.

Ever.