sicilly matthews~d8~done

The smoke covered sky of district eight covers the dark brown hair of the olive skinned girl. A small cough comes from her and the white frosty breath that leaves her mouth mingles with the stench of the fumes for a precious moment for disappearing into the dark night. Small, stuby fingers are clunched into fists in the pocket of the warm looking jacket before she pulls out a pair of gloves. She feels uncomfortable wearing such lavish clothes as she hurrys away from her friends home to her own. Compared to the smaller, dirtier houses down the road, the one she walks up to seems like a small palace.

The house seems neater, tidier than the ones so near it. The walls are a pristine white color which seems like the sun in comparason to all the drab grayness around the girl. It takes up more space than the cramped apartments that line most of the walls of district eight. Sicilly wasn't to proud of the fact that both her parents workes in the justise building, causing her wealth at her school to be envied by those who fell uponthe less fortunate times most of district eight was experiencing.

The dark skin of the girl shivered slightly as it opened the door to the warm glow of a fire flickering in the fireplace. Her deep brown eyes relaxed only for a moment into the calming sense of security found in that glow before the noise of screams penetrated her ears, and the noise of Caesar Flickerman shaking with laughter filled the house. A canon sounded from the tv and the girl's long legs carried her up the flight of stairs before letting her fall into the bed she craved so much for to just get away from the noises of death.

Soon after letting her light body settled on her bed, her eyes fluttered closed, the long dark eyelashes fluttering slightly for a minute before coming to a rest that came with deep sleep. Her thin body lay draped over the bed and her chest started to

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A few minutes pass of this cycle before the door creaks open and a pair of feet move towards the electric fireplace and turn it on, letting a warm glow fill the room as to keep the teenage girl on the bed warm. As the footsteps slink away to the room opposite, the light reaches and illuminates the girl's face. Small brown freckles dot the ivory skin here and there, and the firelight dances upon the large forhead which slightly protrudes from the top of her head.

A small smile spreads across her thin lips as in her dreams she remembers days long ago, those carefree days when she was young and innocent and had no clue about the games and the poverty that lingered just outside her door.

Her head was filled with memories of her grandmother who died just recently of cancer. The warm memories of the grandmother that lived with her filled her up like a bubble. The taste of chocolate chip cookies was fresh on her tongue, the smell of her grandmother's dog that seemed as old as her sitting lazily in corner with it's tongue flopped out, the sight of gift wrapped presents that her small childish hands were about to rip open.

She blinks her eyes blearily as she gets up and moves to her desk. Opening a small journal she likes to write in. She is going to start a book soon, and the character will be based off of her. Of all the insults she had heard over the years and all compliments too. She wrote it down in first person as if she was the character fighting tye dragon already. Her eyes carefully scan the meticulously written words.

I am "as creative as a butterfly" as my grandmother says because of the many different colors and patterns there are on a butterfly. My mind always wanders off into wonderful daydreams and I can come up with the mist wonderful stories.
I am "intelligent like an owl" my mother always said, "because they have those big wise eyes just like you." My mind always wirrs with different equations as I stare down at the test booklets in school and as I answer them I can just tell I have gotten them correct.
I am kind and helpful like a "mother to all those around me" in the words of my father as I feel the need to help everyone out. I dislike being how people think of me when they first meet me. They have heard I was rich and first thing they think is: Snobbish rich girl. Instead I go out of my way to help others out and make sure they are ok, and sometimes I even sneak out some of my allowence which I bring to different charities for those who are unable to support themselves.

Now for all the bad stuff I have been called before, but before I do I should say this only because I feel the need to be fair and honest with everyone. I find these to be some of my worst traits though, and I may feel the need to edit these out of the book and change my negative traits to others so people will not see the true insecurity that I always feel.

I am competitive and sometimes feel as though I have an uncontrollable, unquenchable wildfire in my soul. I always feel the need to be better than others around me. This isn't mild like "Hey I'm gonna beat you in a friendly tournament!" It's more like a burning passion that causes me to do anything I can just to win, well, everything.
I also sometimes flaunt my inteligence some people say. I kind of feel like I do that too. I don't wave around my 100% on my exam in the middle of class and yell my score, but I do go up to my friends and go "Hey guys! Look I got a good grade!" I just feel so much pride all the times I get a good grade, which is often, and because of that pride I feel as though I need to show off slightly.
Finally, there is that Pride I just mentioned. I am very prideful and I will always defend my pride or honor, feeling that anyone who insults me in any way, evenn if it's slight, should not feel the brush of my helpful hand.

Her eyes finish the scan of the page and look back towards the bed which invited her in with warm open arms. She knew she should really do her homework, but she was just so tired. Maybe she should add a word to that list, actually a few words: Kind of lazy. Then her mind filled wifh warm thoughts as she was engulfed by her wonderfully soft mattress.