train to nowhere [d12 train - 94th]
May 29, 2023 14:28:14 GMT -5
Post by pup on May 29, 2023 14:28:14 GMT -5
[googlefont="Gelasio:400"]
thomas
thomas
A numbness settles in my joints. Each step feels heavy, the lifelessness already permeating through my bones. The dead face I saw this morning, so serene after bouts of agony, seems like an omen. What untreatable disease will I pick up in the arena? I won't have the luxury of spending my final moments on a healer's table, but maybe I could find something to anaesthetize my last breaths.
Dad and Mom came to say goodbye. In an intricately designed justice building waiting room, they said their final words to me. After eighteen years of a cold, scientific upbringing, it was a surprise when they forced a reminder of their love out of their mouths. They had only said that a handful of times in my life. My parents really preferred to keep their distance from my siblings and I. There was nothing we had that they could give me- no trinkets or mementos that I've seen tributes with on the screen in prior years. They could hardly afford to donate any small piece of equipment, and we did not own much else.
My sister and brother did not come to visit. Apparently they couldn't bring themselves to profess statements of love like my parents could. My parents said it was too hard for them.
At the end, they left with no requests for promises. There was no tearful goodbye. My mother seemed upset, but after a quick hug from her and my dad, they were gone. All I could do then was wait, the gilded room mocking me. After a life of scrapping by with my family, the room was a callous goodbye to district twelve.
Soon, peacekeepers arrived to usher me out to the train.
Stepping inside, I saw another extravagant display of wealth. A map on the wall next to the entrance marks the endless array of cars.
Following a trail of shimmering chandeliers, I encountered the dinning car. The escort had told me this was the place most tributes start off in. The tables are blinding with a feast of pastries.
My mouth waters slightly, but I know to stop myself. Filling up on pastries is not what's going to keep me going in the arena. Sugar is a rarity in my house, and I don't want to see what it does to me before going into the arena. With a treacherous grumble, my stomach tries to reach out to the sweets.
Instead of reaching for a black and white cookie, though, I force myself to grab a sandwich labelled Tomato, Mozzarella, Lettuce, Turkey, Pesto.
I slide into a booth before hungrily taking a bite. At least I'll have one of the best sandwiches ever before I die.
When the door to the car swings open, I carefully wipe away a bit of the green sauce which had fallen onto my hand.
"How's it going, Will?" I stand up to meet my district partner, Will, as she so willfully put it earlier. "You see our mentors yet? I don't know what's going on, so I'm hoping they can tell us something."
Dad and Mom came to say goodbye. In an intricately designed justice building waiting room, they said their final words to me. After eighteen years of a cold, scientific upbringing, it was a surprise when they forced a reminder of their love out of their mouths. They had only said that a handful of times in my life. My parents really preferred to keep their distance from my siblings and I. There was nothing we had that they could give me- no trinkets or mementos that I've seen tributes with on the screen in prior years. They could hardly afford to donate any small piece of equipment, and we did not own much else.
My sister and brother did not come to visit. Apparently they couldn't bring themselves to profess statements of love like my parents could. My parents said it was too hard for them.
At the end, they left with no requests for promises. There was no tearful goodbye. My mother seemed upset, but after a quick hug from her and my dad, they were gone. All I could do then was wait, the gilded room mocking me. After a life of scrapping by with my family, the room was a callous goodbye to district twelve.
Soon, peacekeepers arrived to usher me out to the train.
Stepping inside, I saw another extravagant display of wealth. A map on the wall next to the entrance marks the endless array of cars.
Following a trail of shimmering chandeliers, I encountered the dinning car. The escort had told me this was the place most tributes start off in. The tables are blinding with a feast of pastries.
My mouth waters slightly, but I know to stop myself. Filling up on pastries is not what's going to keep me going in the arena. Sugar is a rarity in my house, and I don't want to see what it does to me before going into the arena. With a treacherous grumble, my stomach tries to reach out to the sweets.
Instead of reaching for a black and white cookie, though, I force myself to grab a sandwich labelled Tomato, Mozzarella, Lettuce, Turkey, Pesto.
I slide into a booth before hungrily taking a bite. At least I'll have one of the best sandwiches ever before I die.
When the door to the car swings open, I carefully wipe away a bit of the green sauce which had fallen onto my hand.
"How's it going, Will?" I stand up to meet my district partner, Will, as she so willfully put it earlier. "You see our mentors yet? I don't know what's going on, so I'm hoping they can tell us something."
