Cough Syrup -- [cat]

Cough Syrup -- [cat] Jun 7, 2012 15:42:39 GMT -5

Post by chelsey on Jun 7, 2012 15:42:39 GMT -5

decembervale

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Life's too short to even care at all.
I'm losing my mind, losing my mind,
losing control...

They say home is where the heart is.

If I stay still for long enough,

the forest around me comes to life. In here lies no threat of poverty or starvation or death. In here lies peace, innocence, youth. Clashes of dark and bright greens cling to the rough edges of the bark, shimmering off daylight in it’s surface. My footsteps are soft, and hardly make a sound at all when when I move. Slight rustling of grass or dirt or leaves, a low hum muffled beneath my breath. Birds crow at the top of invisible branches, suspecting nothing from the ground below. Bugs crawl lazily across the forest grounds, moving slowly but surely. Even the trees seem at peace ~~of course, this is before they’re met with the sharp edges of an ax at the hands of the men of my district.~~

As I reach the edge of the forest, the weight of my kill in my leather bag suddenly becomes heavier - the guilt of abruptly destroying an animal’s innocence weighing me and my conscious down. I gently pat the leather sack that hangs off my shoulder, a small sad smile on my lips, as if that smile could resurrect a life.

To survive is to sacrifice, and this is just one of many more to come.

Outside of the sheath of the trees, I can feel my pulse beat heavily against my chest, my wrist, my neck. It’s like my heart is warning me of what is to come, Careful, December, careful. My own blood rushes to my face, flushing a crimson red to spread into my cheeks. Cautiously, I make sure no peacekeepers are by before I make my way back into town. For how many years have I hunted? How many years have I ruthlessly killed, stolen a life for my own survival, sacrificed innocence for my well being? And yet, have not even flinched when I lunged the edge of my knife towards a creature? And now, here I still am, scared of something so obscure as a peacekeeper?

It’s pathetic.

In town, my senses become aware of the sudden hustle and bustle of life. The sound of metal clanging against metal, the smell of fresh bread and baked pastries, the feeling of the gravel tapping against the sole of my leather shoes, the sight of children chasing each other while caught up in their own little world.

Somehow, I end up trading one of my kills for a loaf of bread in the bakery. While I wait for my order to be prepared, I take a seat on the steps outside, wrap my arms around my knees, and bury my head in my arms - giving in to my fatigue. [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/color]