Lustor Papillion - district 7 - fin

Seven was a special number to my family. My parents met in the 7th month, on the 7th day. They lived in district seven, and when they married, they decided that they wanted seven children. They never really shared any more information besides that, but that was because they were always busy. I could only imagine what it was like raising seven kids in this district. There were three boys and four girls that made up the Papillion’s, and each one of us was unique in our different ways. Well, except for the fact that six of the seven were pairs of twins. A pair of identical boys and girls, and then there was me and my sister, who were fraternal twins. Then there was the youngest, who we called Tail because she was the last one of the bunch. She wasn’t planned from what my parents told me, but then again, seeing how close in age we all were, I wasn’t surprised when Tail was born.

Seven to me was a place where I could enjoy the quiet. Unlike my siblings, I enjoyed a more quiet surrounding while I did something creative. Some days I would write, and other days I would draw. I never said much when I was asked too. I kept quiet because that was easier. I enjoyed solace. I enjoyed nature and what I saw. Sometimes I wished I could just run away and live in the forest. I could teach myself how to hunt. I could teach myself how to climb. However, I don’t think I could live with the loneliness. That would scare me. While I liked being secluded, I couldn’t lie, I did enjoy being around people at times. They were interesting, and they always gave me something to think about. I could be found around the district simply people watching sometimes. It was a pastime that I could never not enjoy. Some people judged me for it, and others kept away because they thought I was planning something diabolical. They wished.

There were days where I would hide away and not want to be found. Of course, that was different when it came to my twin. It was almost like she had a telepathy to where I was. Even if I had climbed a tree, she would be right there next to me. Sometimes I felt like I would be lost without her. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if she were to be reaped and I wasn’t. A piece of me would feel ripped away from reality, and I’m sure my writing would turn dark, matching the feeling in my soul.

People said I was the spitting image of my father. We were similar in a lot of ways. We shared qualities that people would confuse as feminine. He ran a toy shop in the district, and while he didn’t make a lot of money, his work was good enough to be purchased by a lot of people. My mother worked in the mills, as a manager of one of the busier wood cutter plants. When people brought this up, they said that me and my twin Crimson took after my father, which was weird because they always thought that the mother should have been the one in the shop while the father should have been at the mill. My mother was a strong woman, who didn’t need anyone to tell her that she could do anything. She just went and did it herself. It was how we made a name for ourselves in the district anyway. None of us feared defying constructs. Hell, we were a family with multiple sets of twins after all. We were far from the norm.

When it came to Crimson and I, we were close, but we were also very quiet people. We usually kept to ourselves when we were in public, however, when we were by each other, we just got each other. It was like we could communicate telepathically. When one of us was in a good mood, the other was, and it was the same for when one of us were in a bad mood. Of course, we didn’t spend too much time with each other because we both didn’t like the company of people. Usually, I hid in the forest a lot, writing, or trying to find something to inspire my writing. Being a writer in seven was unheard of, but I couldn’t deny what I was passionate about. Just because the capitol and even others in the districts could, it didn’t mean that I had to be afraid to do what I loved.

Paper sometimes was hard to come by in the district, which is weird because we manufactured it. However, most of it went to the capitol while the rest of it was distributed around the districts. My mother, being a manager of a wood mill, would be able to bring home a little extra because she knew of my proclivity to writing. However, sometimes that wasn’t enough paper for me, as there were times when I was so inspired that I ended up using all the paper in the house. However, I knew where I could get more if I ever needed it. Most of the time, I could go next door and ask, but when I couldn’t, I had to head to my mothers mill, where I knew exactly where the paper was hidden. Every now and then I would take a couple extra pieces hopefully without anyone seeing. If someone did, I would just smile and put the paper back, knowing full well that if I took it, someone would probably tell my mother. I didn’t need her to worry about me starting a life of crime.

One day when I was sitting in the forest, paying attention to the notebook that I got from my twin for our sixteenth birthday. I forgot that they were cutting down some of the trees in the forest in order to provide paper for the capitol and that’s when I heard a loud crack, followed by the sound of wind pressing against an obelisk. That is when I noticed a tree trunk was coming right for me. I froze. My feet felt like they were fused with cinderblocks and my heart raced. Then I felt a force push me out of the way, knocking me to the side while the tree collided with the ground. As I picked myself up, I looked around to see who might have pushed me out of the way and sacrificed their lives, but no one was there. It was like it was a divine intervention. I picked myself off the ground, trying to figure out the new mystery I had in front of me.

That night, I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote. And wrote. And wrote. I wrote about the experience. I wrote about my hopes. My fears, my aspirations, and most importantly, I wrote what I wanted my family to do with my body had an accident occurred, or if I had been reaped. The night scared me to my core and it made me reevaluate my life in a way that made me want to care more. I just had a gut feeling that life might go south, and that meant I had to be prepared for anything.