t h u n d e r storms { fuzzy | blitz }
Sept 16, 2017 19:48:17 GMT -5
Post by calla on Sept 16, 2017 19:48:17 GMT -5
T I D E
A sword in hand and an opponent opposite, this is what we were made for. Careers and tributes and kids, all trained to be the best that the district has to offer. Promises of glory and protection and good things.
Lies.
Because we're all cocky in our own ways, punching bags and training dummies don't match the real thing and the great only end up as footnotes in the history books. The dead don't get chapters written about them, their names aren't remembered years later and whispered in awe. Their families do not weep when they fall and suddenly have one less mouth to feed.
My hand clenches around the handle of a blade, repeating movements again and again, ingraining the actions into my mind. Practice doesn't always make perfect, but I'll be damned if my little sister has to be a part of any violence while I'm still breathing. Which is why I need to ensure that I'll be breathing for a long while still.
It's early morning, the time when there aren't a lot of people at the training centre to look out for. Everyone's tucked into their warm beds, sleeping with the sun, while I slash and jab at an overstuffed dummy enough times for it to be mind numbingly boring. All it really is is a distraction, a lie formulated to hide fear and weakness and a multitude of other things I shouldn't have.
Remember why you're here.
Lies.
Because we're all cocky in our own ways, punching bags and training dummies don't match the real thing and the great only end up as footnotes in the history books. The dead don't get chapters written about them, their names aren't remembered years later and whispered in awe. Their families do not weep when they fall and suddenly have one less mouth to feed.
My hand clenches around the handle of a blade, repeating movements again and again, ingraining the actions into my mind. Practice doesn't always make perfect, but I'll be damned if my little sister has to be a part of any violence while I'm still breathing. Which is why I need to ensure that I'll be breathing for a long while still.
It's early morning, the time when there aren't a lot of people at the training centre to look out for. Everyone's tucked into their warm beds, sleeping with the sun, while I slash and jab at an overstuffed dummy enough times for it to be mind numbingly boring. All it really is is a distraction, a lie formulated to hide fear and weakness and a multitude of other things I shouldn't have.
Remember why you're here.
