sol shim / district five / done

s o l   s h i m

A whimper would make its way into the ears of Sol, barely giving its signal through the crashing rain and thunder that would be outside their window. Hand placed up against the window; he'd be a lion at a zoo, locked inside a cage and looking outside of it, wishing, wanting to be somewhere else than right there. He'd turn around to see his brothers huddled into the corner together staring outside of the window, every booming clap of thunder bringing a new horror to them as it'd flash white outside and inside, painting their sight with something that makes them scared. He had stood up for just a few moments to see outside, what was happening on in the raging war of wind and rain against the ground and all that lies in their direction; throwing their bullets and warriors at it hoping that they'd be weakened enough that they'd fall.

"Sol, can you tell us a story?" A voice would ring from that corner, a corner that's black and shadowed, the only sign of life in that corner is the two boys sitting inside of it. "Sol?" His brother would ask again, looking for sign of life in the body that is Sol Shim. His scruffled and long hair would be laying on his head, hanging above his eyes as he'd respond to his brother-- which one; he couldn't tell.

"What kind of story?" The cousin would ask his brothers, looking out the window again to see more rain. A clash of thunder would roar through the ears of many, everyone in the district would be watching this raging battle from their windows because nobody would want to miss when it ends.

"Just tell us a story." The brother would say with another whine, looking outside with a face of horror plastered on his face. Sol knew no stories, he knew of myths, legends; but he knew of no stories. He can't make up one, that'd be giving them a false hope that there is a life better than this, but there isn't. There is. There is no better life. Not anymore. It has been three years. Three since she had died. The victor from district four had come out as a seventeen year old and is now twenty. It's almost as if time was flying; flying away from the memory of Luna Shim.

He'd sigh, rubbing his arms as a cold drift had entered the house due to the open spot under the door, they'd have to board that opening up during the winter so the anguishing cold couldn't get inside their house. Though some winters they couldn't even board it up, they were too poor to afford something to board it up just like how he can't board his heart up, heal the wounds left by a girl named after the moon.

His family had named him Sol, the spanish word for sun. They were hoping that he'd be the opposite of Luna. Their hopes had been smashed into the dust, stomped, smashed, and torn until there are only small pieces of it, and those small pieces were grown into something larger because they don't have to worry about him being with her all the time; because she's dead. There's no chance for him to walk with her, be with her, stand with her because she died.

He'd let out a sigh, running a hand through his light brown hair. "Hm, a story.." He'd say out loud, trying to come up with a somewhat decent story to tell them. He would tower over them, those with imaginations can consider this; he looks like a monster hunched over a little child in a corner. However he isn't obsessively large as it is detailed, he stands at a 6'3 looking down at the younger boys.

"Just tell us one." A brother would say again, whining and wanting something to drown the crashing thunder and bring them into a universe of imagination, stories and tales that can make them wish- hope that this life isn't all bad guys and murder for victory. He'd gulp, speaking out with a story in mind. "Er- okay..." He said while uncomfortable talking about her because he still finds it hard to talk about the girl, it is no legends in this story. No real other copies of it, because all the others are broken or lost dead.

"There was a girl, fifteen years old from District Five." His voice was wobbled, almost as if he were trying to keep it balanced so it doesnt fall over and crash onto the floor, breaking into shattered pieces. He'd sigh after turning back to his brothers; it'sa a simple story with a simple beginning, middle, and ending. However that ending isn't appreciated, isn't liked by more than just one person. Or that's what people have told the male from District Five, but really they're all lying to make him feel like he's not alone.

He has always been alone ever since she had gone. "She wasn't well known by many, but she was known well by one." Sol would say, looking out the window. He hasn't visited the househould she'd be buried in front of the house of recently, because the memories would scratch him and cut him like shards of glass.

"She had been sent out by force on a quest for victory with others that had been from many mother lands, only one other being from her home." His voice would hesitate again before speaking again. "They were being sent to war. Cold blooded war, where trust would be broken. She'd be trained to do many things. Unfortunately, she'd be given a low number to represent how well she had trained." A shaken breath.

"She and left her only friend alone to be shattered like glass to find a wooden box at the doorsteps of her family." He would say, tears starting to well up in his eyes. He remembered talking to her, becoming friends with her, running with her and being free. He remembered telling her that they'd always be friends; be there for each other forever. But now, there is no forever. "She was the moon lighting the way of her friends darkest night, and now, all there is are scattered stars to look down on him with no meaning, no definition." The males words had said, trying to keep his brothers well entertained.

"He loved her. She never knew that, never got the chance to learn it. She was swept away from her home as soon as possible. And there was no happy ending.." He said, his voice becoming shaken and sad. "What happened Sol, what happened?!" His brother would ask, almost yelling at him.

"She died, Hayk. She died with no knowledge that someone cared about her. And now, the friend has nobody who cares for him, all because of cold blooded war." A clap of thunder would erupt through the house as his tears would hit the ground. Walking back over to the window; he could only hope she was coming back from the war.

o d a i r