I Ran so Far Away [open/post-earthquake plot]
May 24, 2012 1:48:00 GMT -5
Post by Raeoki really likes pineapples on May 24, 2012 1:48:00 GMT -5
Psuedopod sat in the green weeds of her aunt and uncle's front yard, her back against a tree as her eyes stared down at the opened book in her hand. Her cousins, Robert and Roberta, screamed at the top of their lungs as they tossed sticks at each other. Psuedopod's eyes darted from her book and over to the twins, becoming slit-like and dark as she observed their oafish shenanigans.
At home, there was never any screaming eleven-year-olds trying to bludgeon each other to death. There were never any dim-witted aunts and uncles around to growl at her, and then turn around and pat their damnable children on the head, like they were well-trained hounds. There was nothing but peace and quiet, back at home; time to read, time to study, time to learn, time to think. But home was gone, demolished by the terrible earthquake that almost destroyed District One, and here was Psuedopod, forced into imprisonment by her mother's sister and her obese husband (both of whom Psuedopod never liked in the first place) and their brats. In the meanwhile, Psuedopod's parents and older sister, Horizon, was on the search for a new place of residence, living with a friend of the family whose home had survived the quake. The friend had a large family, and though he was perfectly fine taking in a group of three, a family of four was completely out of the question.
Psuedopod sighed, glancing down at her book. A pebble whizzed through the air, bouncing against her temple. The fourteen-year-old flinched back, wincing, her fingertips gently prodding the throbbing sore on her right temple. Robert and Roberta marched up to her, sneering down at her. "Hey, Psuedo-potty!" Robert snickered.
Roberta enlaced her fingers together, her eyes wide and glimmering with innocence. "We wanna play 'Public Executions'!" she chirped.
Psuedopod blinked, rubbing her smarting temple. "Odd. I thought the term was 'Public Hanging'."
Robert shook his head. "Nope! Not this time!"
A wide grim crept onto Roberta's face. "Today, we'll be stoning you!"
Psuedopod glanced at them. "I'd rather not," she said matter-of-factly.
"But you have too!" Robert and Roberta giggled in unison.
Psuedopod put her book on the ground. "No, I don't," she grunted, getting to her feet. "As your elder, I hold dominion over you, so it is I who decide who gets stoned or not."
Robert and Roberta pouted. "Then - then decide that it'll be you who gets stoned!" Robert growled.
Psuedopod shook her head. "I don't think I will, as I doubt that I am a suicidal. Instead, I believe it shall be you two who will be stoned to death." The fourteen-year-old shrugged her shoulders. "Unless you'd like to just not play your disgusting game. I'll let you make that decision."
Robert and Roberta stared up at her, their mouths gaping open. Psuedopod smirked. "I guess we won't." She skirted around them.
Roberta whirled around. "Yeah, well, I'll just tell Ma and Pop about how you refused to play with us and then called us inferior beings, Psuedo!"
Psuedopod halted, not turning around. "Behold, cousin," she sighed, "you are of eleven years, and in the next year you shall be eligible for reaping - a coming of age in Panem, correct? Don't you believe you ought to attempt acting like an adult, as you near a very crucial age?"
Roberta huffed. "Now I'm gonna tell them that you called me immature! Bobby, keep an eye on her!" She marched over to the front door, throwing it open, and then stomping in. As she slammed the door behind her, she emitted a high-pitched whine that hurt Psuedopod's ear-drums.
Psuedopod turned around, frowning down at the young boy. His arms were crossed over his chest, smirking up at her. "You're gonna get spanked for this," he snickered. "Papa's gonna take a stick your backside. Yep."
The fourteen-year-old cocked a brow. "To clarify, you're declaring that my uncle shall have the intention to...whip...me?"
Robert's smirk widened. "Sure! That sounds much better than spanked!"
"And by 'spanked', I assume you speak of the smarting punishment received to a rebellious child's back-end?"
"Mmmmmmmhmmmm!"
Psuedopod's mind whirled back to her younger years; the constant groundings, the never-ending trips to her room, and the stinging accusation of acting like an infant. She shook herself out of those embarrassing memories, forcing herself back to the present day. "But I am no child," Psuedopod said with a careless shrug, but Robert could see her face paling.
The young boy giggled. "Who says?"
Psuedopod curled her small hands into fists. She fidgeted, her mind wandering back to her unsophisticated, barbaric past life. And to think, she had worked so hard to become mature, to fit into adult society - and now she would be dragged out of her cultured shell by some brat's whine.
She heard the door slam behind her. Psuedopod’s head jerked up, her gaze falling on her uncle, his eyes dark, a long stick in his hand. The eyes in her skull bugged; her heart hammered at her ribcage. It was one of the few times she allowed herself to succumb to panic; Psuedopod swung around, darting out of the yard and onto the street.
Psuedopod raced across the residential area, not daring to look back. Houses blurred past her; she tuned out every noise but the sound of her feet slamming against the sidewalk and the pounding of her heart reverberating into her ears.
She swerved to the right, leaping over an ivory picket fence that bordered a well-cut lawn. Psuedopod crouched down in a small garden mostly consisting of daisies. Her chest heaved with every pant she sucked in, the sound of each heavy breath soothing her until panic finally left her. The fourteen-year-old lifted herself to her feet slowly, her knees quaking. Psuedopod peered over the fence. The area was devoid of any stick-wielding uncles and sneering cousins out for her blood. Psuedopod allowed her face to break out in a smirk, her eyes lit with triumph.
I assume you hope you didn’t consume as much you do, huh, Uncle?
(ooc: Ugh…this post is obnoxiously long, and not very good, now that I think about it…Sorry! I got kinda tired…D: )
At home, there was never any screaming eleven-year-olds trying to bludgeon each other to death. There were never any dim-witted aunts and uncles around to growl at her, and then turn around and pat their damnable children on the head, like they were well-trained hounds. There was nothing but peace and quiet, back at home; time to read, time to study, time to learn, time to think. But home was gone, demolished by the terrible earthquake that almost destroyed District One, and here was Psuedopod, forced into imprisonment by her mother's sister and her obese husband (both of whom Psuedopod never liked in the first place) and their brats. In the meanwhile, Psuedopod's parents and older sister, Horizon, was on the search for a new place of residence, living with a friend of the family whose home had survived the quake. The friend had a large family, and though he was perfectly fine taking in a group of three, a family of four was completely out of the question.
Psuedopod sighed, glancing down at her book. A pebble whizzed through the air, bouncing against her temple. The fourteen-year-old flinched back, wincing, her fingertips gently prodding the throbbing sore on her right temple. Robert and Roberta marched up to her, sneering down at her. "Hey, Psuedo-potty!" Robert snickered.
Roberta enlaced her fingers together, her eyes wide and glimmering with innocence. "We wanna play 'Public Executions'!" she chirped.
Psuedopod blinked, rubbing her smarting temple. "Odd. I thought the term was 'Public Hanging'."
Robert shook his head. "Nope! Not this time!"
A wide grim crept onto Roberta's face. "Today, we'll be stoning you!"
Psuedopod glanced at them. "I'd rather not," she said matter-of-factly.
"But you have too!" Robert and Roberta giggled in unison.
Psuedopod put her book on the ground. "No, I don't," she grunted, getting to her feet. "As your elder, I hold dominion over you, so it is I who decide who gets stoned or not."
Robert and Roberta pouted. "Then - then decide that it'll be you who gets stoned!" Robert growled.
Psuedopod shook her head. "I don't think I will, as I doubt that I am a suicidal. Instead, I believe it shall be you two who will be stoned to death." The fourteen-year-old shrugged her shoulders. "Unless you'd like to just not play your disgusting game. I'll let you make that decision."
Robert and Roberta stared up at her, their mouths gaping open. Psuedopod smirked. "I guess we won't." She skirted around them.
Roberta whirled around. "Yeah, well, I'll just tell Ma and Pop about how you refused to play with us and then called us inferior beings, Psuedo!"
Psuedopod halted, not turning around. "Behold, cousin," she sighed, "you are of eleven years, and in the next year you shall be eligible for reaping - a coming of age in Panem, correct? Don't you believe you ought to attempt acting like an adult, as you near a very crucial age?"
Roberta huffed. "Now I'm gonna tell them that you called me immature! Bobby, keep an eye on her!" She marched over to the front door, throwing it open, and then stomping in. As she slammed the door behind her, she emitted a high-pitched whine that hurt Psuedopod's ear-drums.
Psuedopod turned around, frowning down at the young boy. His arms were crossed over his chest, smirking up at her. "You're gonna get spanked for this," he snickered. "Papa's gonna take a stick your backside. Yep."
The fourteen-year-old cocked a brow. "To clarify, you're declaring that my uncle shall have the intention to...whip...me?"
Robert's smirk widened. "Sure! That sounds much better than spanked!"
"And by 'spanked', I assume you speak of the smarting punishment received to a rebellious child's back-end?"
"Mmmmmmmhmmmm!"
Psuedopod's mind whirled back to her younger years; the constant groundings, the never-ending trips to her room, and the stinging accusation of acting like an infant. She shook herself out of those embarrassing memories, forcing herself back to the present day. "But I am no child," Psuedopod said with a careless shrug, but Robert could see her face paling.
The young boy giggled. "Who says?"
Psuedopod curled her small hands into fists. She fidgeted, her mind wandering back to her unsophisticated, barbaric past life. And to think, she had worked so hard to become mature, to fit into adult society - and now she would be dragged out of her cultured shell by some brat's whine.
She heard the door slam behind her. Psuedopod’s head jerked up, her gaze falling on her uncle, his eyes dark, a long stick in his hand. The eyes in her skull bugged; her heart hammered at her ribcage. It was one of the few times she allowed herself to succumb to panic; Psuedopod swung around, darting out of the yard and onto the street.
Psuedopod raced across the residential area, not daring to look back. Houses blurred past her; she tuned out every noise but the sound of her feet slamming against the sidewalk and the pounding of her heart reverberating into her ears.
She swerved to the right, leaping over an ivory picket fence that bordered a well-cut lawn. Psuedopod crouched down in a small garden mostly consisting of daisies. Her chest heaved with every pant she sucked in, the sound of each heavy breath soothing her until panic finally left her. The fourteen-year-old lifted herself to her feet slowly, her knees quaking. Psuedopod peered over the fence. The area was devoid of any stick-wielding uncles and sneering cousins out for her blood. Psuedopod allowed her face to break out in a smirk, her eyes lit with triumph.
I assume you hope you didn’t consume as much you do, huh, Uncle?
(ooc: Ugh…this post is obnoxiously long, and not very good, now that I think about it…Sorry! I got kinda tired…D: )