Welcome to the World [Lyndis] {Blitz}

It's a cold day outside, but the air is crisp and refreshing, a light dusting of snow on the ground. I find a empty bench in the park across the street, setting my purse down and stretching out my arms and legs before settling down on the seat, taking out a length of wire from my bag and beginning to twist it into the shape of a crane. Delicate rhombuses form the outline of the bird's wings, other lengths sticking out from the body to make legs, tail, and a head.

As I look up from my work, I see a young boy sitting across from me, scribbling in a journal. I smile encouragingly at him. "That's a good habit to have. The only truly lasting memories are those that are recorded."

The boy seems to shrink away a bit at my words, his nervousness showing through as he seems to bury his face into the notebook he's holding before turning back to me and returning a shy smile.

His demeanor reminds me of myself when I was younger, and I'm not quite sure if he wants me to start a conversation or just shut up and leave him alone. I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts, before speaking again.

"It's writers, like us, that tell people what things could be like in a different world. The past was different from now, after all, and the future will - hopefully - also be different from today."

"Sometimes I'd rather be in the worlds I create," the boy responds, and I can't really say I blame him. In fantasies, after all, dragons are always slain, villains are defeated, and you know there's always a happy ending waiting for the hero after everything they've gone through. That was a more palatable truth, after all, than depression and guilt and circling around only to find that nothing had really changed.

"Is that why you write, to give people a picture of what could be?" He spoke again, and although it was true in some sense, it wasn't the whole reason.

"That's part of the reason I write," I respond. "I also want to preserve the memory of the past, to remember what our history was like. But in some sense, those things are similar, aren't they?"

"Every day we are reminded of what happened yesterday and the years before. With the Games hanging over our heads it's hard to ignore." With every child that tell me this, my heart yearns for the past a little more, before the dark days, before the flurry of laws and oppression and restriction that came to blanket the land. The worst part is that none of the kids even remember it, so much has been scrubbed out of the history books, twisted to make the Capitol seem like it was in the right.

"Years before it was better here," I sigh. "The Peacekeepers weren't so strict and the people weren't always so destitute. Perhaps the Capitol and the scientists have made all sorts of technology since then, but at what cost?"

The boy shifts over, glancing at the vacated spot next to him on the bench. Sensing his intentions, I pick up my bag and walk across to sit down next to him. "I suppose from the view of the Capitol they have only gained, but to everyone else we just keep losing. Every year we have less than we did before. If we don't get lucky soon we'll have nothing left." I wasn't entirely sure that even the Capitol had gained, in fact, but bringing that up would probably just be an unnecessary distraction to the conversation.

"If we don't get lucky," I repeat, rolling the words slowly against my tongue. "I don't know if luck is enough. Maybe there's luck involved, when you're dealing with who fights who or who wins the Games, but most of what keeps us this way are choices and habits."