Sound Of Madness {Open to all}

I wake up when the sun's shining and the birds are singing. I stretch my arms and shrug off the morning sleepiness that's fogging my head as I start to list my morning chores. I have to feed the pigs their slop, give the horses their new food, and go to the market to by some groceries. It's 6:00 and I have to be starting my chores at 6:30, so I have some extra time. I get out of my bed and slip on my normal, ragged blue and light blue checkered shirt, rolling the sleeves to the elbows, and some badly grass stained white capris. I then run to our restroom to get cleaned up.

The walls in our bathroom are stained yellow and there's mold growing in the corners of the ceiling. It's kinda gross, but the door locks and their's a toilet and sink, so it serves it's purpose. I wash my hair in the bathroom sink. The water is absolutely frigid, but I grit my teeth and deal with it. After I'm done I dry my hair, sighing as I turn warm again, and I grab our hair brush and comb through it. Once I'm done I wash my face and pull my hair back into a ponytail. Once I'm ready for the day, I go back to my room. There's still ten minutes left, so I pull out my sketch book and work on my newest drawing. I sell drawings to help get a little extra money for our family since we're a little low lately.

Eventually 6:30 rolls around and I go downstairs and step outside. I feel the sand and grass beneath my feet and I smile slightly. I always walk barefoot. It hurt at first, but after awhile your feet just get tougher and tougher until you can walk on almost anything without pain. And not being able to feel pain, that's a useful skill.

I smile as a slight breeze ruffles my hair and I start towards the shed with our tools and appliances in it. I grab two buckets and scoop up some slop for the pigs. I then walk over to the trough and dump their food into it. It takes about three trips to fill their troughs, but to me it seemed like it only took a few minutes. Next I grab some horse feed from our horse shed and dump it into their feeders. And then, finally, it's time to go to the market. I grab some of my drawings to trade for food and wonder briefly if I should put on shoes. I decide not to though, I don't really feel like wearing shoes today. So I quickly head out the door and start to walk to the market, my feet padding along on the ground gently and hearing the breeze rustle through the branches.



After awhile of walking I get to the market. I love shopping there, it always gives me a happy feeling to see everyone around, bustling around to different shops and talking excitedly amongst themselves. I can see some people gathering around a TV. They're watching the Hunger Games. I can tell by the soft crying and the frightened looks on the gathered people's faces. The District 10 tributes this year are Noreen Lexington and Elon Emberstatt, and right now they're both still alive, thank god. People are saying that they think District 10 might actually have a victor this year. I hope to god that's true, it's always so sad to see the people from your district die, the people you walked side by side with. It's even more depressing to watch their loved ones mourn them, because you know that right now they're in more pain than even the deceased person they're crying over.

I shudder quickly and tear my thoughts away from the Games, praying in my mind for District 10 to finally have a victor as I walk. Suddenly I see a boy. He's standing around and trying to sell some meat, but he doesn't look as if he's having much luck. I need meat though, and maybe he'd be willing to trade for one of my drawings. I walk over to him and look him in the eyes. He has a slightly disturbed look on his face, and I suddenly feel kind of uncomfortable. I hope it's not showing too much on my face though, I don't want to offend him. Trying not to look at him directly in the eyes, I quietly say, "Hey, um, would you be willing to trade some of that meat for one of my drawings?" I take out the drawings I took from home and hold them out for him to look through.

The drawing on top is a just something I had been working on. I drew a line to split the paper in half horizontally. One half shows a little girl in a rain coat with an umbrella so tattered that it barely has anymore webbing on it. Rain is pouring down and the road she's standing on is a gross color of dirt. Everything is showing but the girl's face. Anyone who looked at that side would feel bad for the girl. They'd pity her. But then on the other side of the paper, a flash of lightening illuminates the girls face and you can see her clearly for who she is. Her face is horribly scarred and her smile is a horrible smirk. But her eyes are the worst. It took me forever to draw eyes like hers. They have the look of total and pure evil. It's kind of a disturbing picture, but for some reason it seems like something the boy might like. I always write something about the picture on the very bottom and for that picture I wrote, "Not everything is as it seems." I thought it represented the picture pretty well. Then next to what I wrote, I signed my name. I wait for him to take my drawings and look through them or for him to say something.

I smile as he takes my picture, I love it when I get to trade. The amount of meat is gives to me is very generous, and I'm not sure why he's being this nice...However, I'm definitely not one to complain. I listen quietly as he tells me that he never buys pictures because they don't give you anything much. He hands me the rest of my drawings back. I'm a little relieved when he does that, because I've had customers just run off with all of them and not pay before, and it sucks when that happens. He says thank you and tells me his name.

Hero, I think to myself. I love that name. He doesn't seem like someone who would be a hero...but then again, not everything is as it seems. I notice something about his eyes that seems...well, odd. It reminds me greatly of how my sister Emily's eyes look when she's so feverish that she hallucinates and hears voices in her head. Could it be the same thing? It looks so much like Emily that I can't help wondering. I smile up at him as he's taller than me and I smile kindly.

He's handsome, yet he has an intriguing look. I love his long black hair, and his eyes are pretty, but it's not the color that interests me. His eyes look haunted and troubled. I can tell he's had a painful life and I suddenly feel a pang of pity. When I look at him, I feel...I feel like he needs help and I feel like I should be helping him. I don't know why I feel this way, I never have before, but I do now. Smiling kindly, I respond to what he said to me.

"Well a lot of people think that way, but...well, pictures don't give you meat or bread or shelter, but they give something more important sometimes." I wait to see if he understands, but I can't tell so I keep going. "If things are bad or maybe hard at home, you can look at a picture and...well, it can give you hope. And if not hope, at least something else that makes things easier." I pause to let what I said sink in and then I say, "Anyway, thanks for trading with me, and my name's Lydie."

I wish I could just ask him if he was hearing voices, he's reminding me so much of when my sister hears things in her head and I know ways of helping my sister that might help him if he does have that problem. I'm so confused, why am I so set on helping him? I just...for some reason I don't like to see him in the obvious pain that he's in. He looks distant and I think something might be wrong so I take one of his hand in mine and I ask, "Are you alright?" His hands are cold and I wrap both of my hands around the one hand of his I'm holding so as to try to warm him a little. He looks slightly shocked and it makes me sad.

Has this boy ever felt real kindness?

Ooc: Oh, it's not short at all. And ok, I was kind of wondering what that meant. xD

I'm a little hurt at first when he yells at me, after all I was only trying to help. But when I look into his eyes, I see what I think might be his way of saying he's sorry, so I decide not to leave. He says he doesn't like to be touched and I stare up at him quietly, this time not smiling. "Not all contact is bad." I say quietly. I remember I had a friend when I was a kid who's parents hit her. She'd cringe every time I even laid my hand on her arm. It took a long time for me to convince her that I was never going to hurt her.

Deciding to drop the subject, I give him a polite smile and say, "So, with all this meat you must live on a farm. I do too, with my family of course. I have two older siblings and one younger, and in all we have 7 horses." As I think about my horses I smile lovingly. I have five, my younger sister has one and my older brother has one as well. My older sister doesn't have any horses, she rarely even leaves our house, she's usually too sick. I say happily, "My horse's names are Halo, Liggie, Bolt, Cass, and Kayla. My younger sister has a horse named Swallow and my older brother's horse is named Zeus. My older sister would have a horse but...well, my sister's almost always sick so she doesn't really need one."

I cautiously continue, not sure if I should say what I'm planning on saying, but I do anyway. "Sometimes when my sister has high fevers...well she can be kind of odd." I watch his face carefully to make sure there's no signs of him getting panicky, but I can't really tell, so I keep going. "Sometimes she says there's someone in her head." I pause and then continue."You know...talking to her." I'm afraid he'll run away so before he can I say, "So living with her, I've figured out ways to help her with that voice in her head. I know a lot of helpful things and...well, I know how to recognize people with the same problem." I smile kindly, really hoping I haven't scared him away.

Before I started talking about Emily, I was trying to calm him down by bringing up horses. I could tell that he loved horses as much as me, and I was really hoping he wouldn't flip out now about what I just said. Quickly, before he can do anything, I say, "So, that's why Emily doesn't have a horse. Do you have any horses?" By asking him that, I was hoping to give him a way out, so if he didn't want to talk about the problem I was pretty sure he had, he could answer my question about horses instead of talking about it with me. I didn't care what he decided to do, I just prayed to god he wouldn't leave.