Flyss Wren | Fin | Redo of App
Mar 2, 2015 7:59:26 GMT -5
Post by flyss on Mar 2, 2015 7:59:26 GMT -5
Flyss WRen . District 2 . 16 . CAREER . 1542 words
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You let the fire out, and it's right in front of meYou let the fire out, and it's right in front of meWords crashing through the flames smoke spreading farAnd I thought we'd remain free from it's harm
You never were one for height. Short girls get married easier, you remember your mother telling you one night when you asked why your friends were growing far taller than you could have ever dreamed. At that time, you were twelve. It never seemed like much, those words she would whisper to you as you readied yourself for bed. However, when you decided to stop and genuinely question what exactly they meant, you finally understood why your teachers gave your forlorn glances in the courtyard of your school.
Pity her. P i t y h e r.
Her brother has died. H e r b r o t h e r h a s d i e d.
In all honesty, though, you enjoyed it. After all, who wouldn't love to be showered in the grace and attention of your peers; it was like heaven for somebody of your nature. It was like a chorus of angels were singing hymns at you every hour of the day.
I am a god.
Truth be told, you acted like one without realising it. Perhaps if you weren't so far into your vanity, he would have stayed longer. Gabriel was your number one angel but he was going to fall, oh he was going to
f
a
l
l
He died so elegantly; you were there. The ball of rope strangled him as he swung from the ceiling of his room.
B a c k a n d f o r t h.
B a c k a n d f o r t h.
B a c k a n d f o r t h.
C r a s h.
He had fallen, gasping for air. That's what you get when you try to escape, you thought to yourself ever-so-silently. Without a single word of farewell, you stepped on his throat in rash attempt to end his life.
S u c c e s s.
Anyone who is foolish enough to cross my path and regret it is not to be trusted. They must be rid of, like the pest they are, no matter who they are, no matter where they are.
Battle scars line your arms like an army getting ready for war. Where you got them from, you don't know, but your father had hinted that you hadn't always been their's. When you tried to question him further, he avoided it. It obviously wasn't the best time to ask, however you knew that the conversation wasn't over; it had just begun.
The next time that the subject was approached was shortly after Gabriel's death. It hadn't been merely a week since you assisted him with his absence, but nothing felt out of place aside from your withdraw of speech. Despite, one short glance thrown in the right direction made his facade crumble.
"Flyss, you just can't push someone to tell you things they aren't ready to tell you." His voice was tinder but he knew that you weren't going to let it go so easily this time. One more look, spiked this time, sent him over the edge. He visibly winced as if his neck was the one being stepped on, that the fire used to burn your brother's body was engulfing him and not that poor, poor boy who was just following orders.
"We-" He hesitated as you scooted closer in malice. "We found you and Gabe on th' front porch." Gabe. His nickname rung out in your head like one of the school bells that you hated so very much. "A letter was taped to th' top of the box, but your mother read it then immediately put it away." As you stood up, there was some sense of closure there, but still, you felt like it wasn't the end. Now it was time to find your mother. This was your masterpiece, not their's and they weren't going to ruin it.
You found her in the garden, hammering away at some heated black scrap metal. Her face was a mess of sweat and hair, a disgusting mixture that made you cringe. Toe to heel, you gathered a fierce aura before walking in her direction. She lifted her head to see who was there, but continued working. She wasn't going to ignore you like this, she couldn't ignore you like this.
Damn her, if she thought she could.
Your words were frail, vocal cords tangled like cords from poor use and supervision.
"Give me the papers, you old hag." They stung her like wasps, but she kept her head down, lost in her work. Your eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Don't you fuckin' ignore me; I told you to give me the god-damned papers." This time she stopped. Her eyes were full of a fire hotter than the metal she was working with and setting her tools and gloves to the side, she dusted off the rough surface of her apron; still, she said nothing.
You groaned impatiently and turned to leave. If she wouldn't do it, then you knew that you could. But just as you began to walk away she coughed, then ran ahead of you.
"Follow me."
Dear Mrs. and Mr. Ren,
I would first like to apologize for the inconvenience. These children, whom we've taken the pleasure of naming Flyss and Gabriel, have been rescued from the illegal abuse of an Orphanage on the south side of the district. From what we have heard, they managed to escape through an open window and immediately found help. We do not know exactly how long they had been in custody of the establishment, but we figure roughly 3 years. Both of them seem to be around the age of four or five, so feel free to assign them a birthday at your leisure. As of now, we are working on shutting down the operation, and will notify you when we have successfully done so. Please keep this message a secret; for the childrens' own good, we have not told them anything of this and believe that psychological barriers have formed, allowing them to block these memories out. However, there is still a small chance that they will remember. Do not try to initiate further memories, instead, deny it.
Thank you for your assistance.
Dear Mrs. and Mr. Ren,
We regret to inform you that before we could shut down the operation that illed both Gabriel and Flyss, the organization took it upon themselves to take action. It seems that a fire was started, killing most, if not all, of the orphans. It's a gravely sad when so many children are lost, but at least their abuse is no more. However, as it also seems, those who were running this dastardly orphanage also perished. For this, we do not know why, but we hope that Flyss and Gabriel grow up in a burden-free enviroment. It is important for their proper development. Once more, we ask that you keep this message from them.
Thank you for your continued assistance.One punch for your low trust.
Two punches for Gabriel.
Three punches for lost memories.
Four punches for your god complex.
And five punches for your incapability.
The punching bag will never solve your problems, but you can sure as hell hope.
What did Gabriel remember that you didn't?
1542 words
fin
