Week Two: Log Chopping

Wynn was waking up to the second week of the Highland Games, taking place in his home district and luckily not having to travel to either of the other two districts to compete with them. Competition. Such a simple word, yet it means so much to so many. He would sigh as he would make his way through the district and towards the Highland Games grounds where he would be competing today, in a event that most from District 7 would enjoy. Time would fly by and suddenly he felt an axe in his hand as life would turn from off to on as he found himself in front of a large log, too. It was time to try and win, and wynn he would try. Ding.

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24.55 seconds jfc

The words still etched into my mind at the speech that rang from another's mouth, "Blanche Summit for Third place, in axe throwing!" It was satisfactory, the feeling, although I'd never came here to show or prove, but it was little things along the way. My mind wanders back to Stella, and how years and years ago we'd all play with each other outside, making our own little version of the Highland Games. Occasionally, I'd peak my eyes up to her window, the lone one that showed the world her room, and sometimes I'd catch glimpses of her face through the dirt and grime film.

"Blanche Summit."

Drawing my attention, my name is called upon, chosen out of the numerous amounts of people that've signed up for the events. Finally, it'd been my turn to go, and I didn't know much of what to expect, besides memories of my childhood to come flowing back. And even if it were never as extravagant and professional as this, it was still some of the best times I've ever spent with them. With my family whose screams now echo through the halls, and some who hide behind closed doors, adapting traits to fill Stella's empty hole she left us with. But I suppose- that's just how life was meant to be.


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Time: 38.41 seconds
[way to suck]