fading essence | pixie's dp

A simple tap, a quick hit, a jolt, a movement - and I'll feel myself fall into death's abyss. There's blood everywhere, an ocean of crimson surrounding my feet, my hands, my head. Every inch of my body feels limp, but my brain promises to not give up- so it tries, and it tries, but then I feel my last feeling, and then I'm gone.

5
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Chaske Parks. The boy from nine who I'd encountered at the training centre. He looked weak and he looked puny, but now I'm suffering his wrath. I feel embarrassed to have struck my murderer down when there was a chance we could've been friends- and perhaps I'd still be alive if I had. But, for the most part I feel pride.

                                                            BOOM

Pride? Pride in my death. Everyone in my district knew that a miracle wasn't going to happen, District 5 wouldn't have two victors in a row. It was just a matter of time, the clocking striking every silent moment every painstaking hour that passed before my eyes. 

But now, as my body lies here, atop a freezing pillar- I've never felt more alive. The cold I'd felt for five days has been replaced by a comfortable warmth which surrounds me like a drifting cloud. There is no darkness in death, only light. I've left a legacy of memories in my place which I hope, I know will be treasured by the ones I love.

And this time, I mean what I say. Forget the stone-cold girl on the train, forget the girl who blended in so that she could survive. I've been enlightened upon my death. My love for everything and everyone around me had grown stronger and I can feel it flow around my lifeless veins like a lightning strike.

Soon I'll be returned back to my mother and siblings in a beautiful wooden coffin. They will shed their tears and the planks will absorb the salty water before their words surround my mere shell, suffocating me, drowning me. How long does this feeling last?

The elation, the pride, the relief. Nothing can this perfect, surely? As the seconds float past me I can't believe anything else other than the paradise I'm in - is true. 

But this paradise is a nightmare for them. My frail little mother, oh how her tears will be full of upset. And my sister, I hope she remembers my last words to her, because they were crafted in a web of meaning and definition. 

-

I reflect on it all, the long ride. The rise, the fall. The journey, the process. The happy memories, the ones I wish to forget. Dying has given me the opportunity to forget it all, everything I've ever seen and everything I've ever felt. I'm saying goodbye to it all.

At home, I felt like I was on top of the world, the leader of a rebellion with an army of a thousand men behind me. As children we are taught that death is the end, and the pain is unbearable - but it's so delicate and peaceful, so must so that I wouldn't change this moment for the world.

And in my final thoughts before I fade into history, I remain quiet. I just think, I hope and think, I hope, think and pray that no one will have to suffer what the Capitol forced onto me. The fact I'm thankful for taking the easy way out should disgust anyone who wishes to enter an arena. 

It's

        time        

                to                    

                        f o r g e t.