Little By Little [tee]

cyrus
Seam Resident

0 POSTS
last seen Jan 31, 2013 5:26:13 GMT -5

Little By Little [tee] Sept 30, 2012 22:54:16 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Sept 30, 2012 22:54:16 GMT -5

Ruby Tuesday

[/color]

-----

Narratin’
Thinkin’
Speakin’
Listenin’

-----

When all the rush of the reapings was over, fall settled in by sending a shiver down my spine and a crisp air along with her. This year seemed heaping different with our tributes bein’ from the same family. Still hurt some, thinkin’ about the Woodards’ and their loss. But time marched on anyway. Still had to make sure that the bills was paid and there was enough food to go around, and that Mama hadn’t completely lost the rest of her mind. Tucked away in our little shack down the way me and Leslie Anne, the hot summer days faded away in August, and sweat was traded for shawls over shoulders. Wasn’t that I minded that, never liked the summer much anyway. Brought too many reminders of things that passed on, from the games to my father.[/color]

The mornin’ crept in through the window, licking at my face with bits of sunlight. The little trinkets of brass I’d hung from the ceiling reflected into my face and I made a little noise before hopping out of bed. The squeak of the shower and the usual cursin’ at the cold of the water woke Leslie Anne, who cried out for me to keep it down, on account of it being her day off and all. I wrapped my head in a towel as I turned to boil up some water for oatmeal. The two of us didn’t have much—a bedroom, a bathroom, and a teeny-tiny space that doubled for kitchen and entertaining—but it was enough to feel like a real home. The cracks in the stucco of the walls were just signs of livin’, which we liked to do an awful lot of. Not like we had a whole lot of time on this earth anyway[/color], I thought as I gave a few more stirs.

The walk to the shop was a little longer than usual. I walked a little slower, still groggy from a bad night’s sleep and picturin’ myself swept up on stage in the capitol. I had the whole nine yards: sequins and rhinestones, a feathery headdress, dancers to pick me up and toss me around. It was a big revue, like the ones you see on television with all the glamorous capitolites—the ones I used to watch when my family was all still livin’ together, and we’d squeeze in to see ‘em on our black and white television screen. Didn’t last long enough though—not for my tastes—I was awake and the whole thing was over before I’d even managed to sing. But it was a nice enough dreamin’, I suppose.

Mrs. Elderwood wasn’t in the shop when I got inside, but I made sure to put on my apron and start checkin’ the inventory before anyone arrived. There would be a few comin’ in the morning to pick up things for the factories, makin’ shipment s and whatnot. I counted the different fabrics, made sure to know where they were in yards, and ran a broom over the floor to catch some lingering dust. The rest of the girls had wandered in and through the back to get started with the day’s sewing. I moved to the door and flipped the handwritten open sign. I busied myself again with sweeping the floors, though I wished that I could’ve been in the back that morning.

There was somethin’ relaxing about falling into the work at the sewin’ machines with the other girls. Putting bits of fabric together was smooth, repetitive, and didn’t take much talk. Every so often I’d get a tap on the shoulder from old Mrs. Elderwood, but by and large we was focused on our own work. It was harder to get lost in daydreams if you had somethin’ in your hands that had to be finished. It’s why I didn’t like workin’ by myself in the front, tendin’ to customers that asked too many questions. I rested my head on the edge of the broom and closed my eyes, hoping to catch one last little bit of sleep before the first of the day wandered in to interrupt. It was, of course, short lived, as the bell above the doorway jingled, and I croaked out the usual welcome to Elderwood’s[/color] before opening my eyes.

[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

teezoen
Seam Resident

45 POSTS
last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5

Little By Little [tee] Oct 1, 2012 14:00:42 GMT -5

Post by teezoen on Oct 1, 2012 14:00:42 GMT -5

ALDER HEATH

I looked forward to work that morning, if for no reason but to keep my mind occupied. I had never enjoyed watching the Games. The gruesome nature of it and the way the Capital treated it was always reason enough for me to hate it, but it was more than that. This year, the two children selected from our District were brother and sister. The odds were certainly not in their favor- poor Bran, poor Aria. Thankfully, the cool air of the morning gave me something else to think about.

I was up before the sun this morning. My dreams had kept me awake, and I didn't want to linger on them. I heard movement in the next room, and decided it was time to get up. Groggy and still tired from work yesterday, I dressed myself and grabbed a scant breakfast. My mother was already up, and handed me a small mug of what I hoped would be tea, but what turns out to be hot water. I nodded my thanks silently, and my mother went back to preparing lunches for my father and myself. A few minutes later, I was shuffling out the door after a wave at my mother, a threadbare jacket warding the cool morning air from me. The sun's light had just tinted the sky as I was leaving the house, the fog dissipating slowly with the coming of dawn.

District 8's housing areas gave way to factories and warehouses as you traveled away from the center of town. You could smell the sweat, the dusty air, see the rust on the buildings. The shops in the center of the District gave it some life, at least, but even these had large back sections filled with seamstresses and workers. It would be my job today to go round with a horse drawn cart, gather up a selection of materials and finished goods, and bring them back to the warehouse for storage, immediate use, or shipping. I had always been nervous around the horses as a child, but they broke the horses very well- or maybe the horses were just kind. After all, they listened to me and weren't rowdy at all. Which was good, because if they did become rowdy, I had little knowledge of what to do about it.

The warehouse loomed before me, the white paint that had once adorned it peeling off, the stains of rust washed down the sides of the building during rainstorms providing a new color for the walls. The dusty ground was rife with the footprints of others who had arrived, or were arriving, to begin their shifts. I trudged in with them, shoulder to shoulder with men and boys just as tired as me. Some of them, like me, would be going round to other parts of the district. Others would be packing up finished product as it was brought in on the conveyer belt from the factory next door. I punched my timecard, and got my assignment from my supervisor. There was only one stop on the whole pad. I did a double take, then realized- I was picking up a large shipment of wool for winter coats. Of course. And this was high quality stuff. From Elderwood's.

I walked to the stables, and the more experienced men there helped me get the horse hooked into the harness, and I patted it on the neck. It never ceased to amaz me, the muscles bulging through their skin. Horses were such strong, powerful creatures. Good workers. But like myself, they were tamed. I felt a kinship with the animal as I patted its neck, and start off on the jaunt to the uptown market. Soon, I was walking it down the road through town to Elderwood's. I'd been there before, but sparingly.

My horse's name this morning was Bill. He seemed in good spirits for some reason. As he pulled the cart along the ground, dust trailed up behind it. There wasn't much grass growing in the streets this time of year, or ever, really. I stopped him in front of Elderwood's, and patted him on the neck again. “I'll be right back.” He snorted, and shook his head a little. Whatever that meant.

I pushed the door open, making sure to try to stamp the dust and dirt off of my shabby shoes before entering. “Welcome to Elderwood's,” I heard. It was a girl, who looked about as tired as I did. She was sweeping, or maybe sleeping. I couldn't tell. I tried to give her a smile, but I'm not sure that I really looked friendly. More like a tired young man trying to look friendly.

“Good morning. I'm here for a pick-up.” I handed her the papers for it. It was a large shipment, so it'd take awhile to load, but that was fine. I crossed my arms, and looked around the shop. It wasn't often I got to go inside one of them. Looking at the fine work that the workers had put on display, I instinctively knew that I couldn't afford any of it. Such fine clothing was reserved for more well-off customers, and I looked out of place (to say the least) in my patchy jacket.

cyrus
Seam Resident

0 POSTS
last seen Jan 31, 2013 5:26:13 GMT -5

Little By Little [tee] Oct 2, 2012 0:30:14 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Oct 2, 2012 0:30:14 GMT -5

Ruby Tuesday

-----

Narratin’
Thinkin’
Speakin’
Listenin’

-----

I get a glance at the boy as he comes in, not quite familiar with his face. Must have been new with the deliveries, on account of the older gentlemen they usually send into the shop. I never took much mind to them, since they always were flirtin’ with the girls and pinchin’ there cheeks when they got the chance—and sometimes not the ones on their faces. For me I kept my head down, didn’t talk to them none so I didn’t have to bother with a blushed face and awkward small talk. Never had nothing to say to one of them anyway, older gentlemens who had families and lives and whatnot. My mind would drift more as to guess who they was—maybe with little ones at home and a wife with hairy arms that pointed her rolling pin when she was upset.

But the daydreams melded away as I looked at the blond haired boy. He handed me a set of papers about the order and I looked at the list for a moment. It was another shipment to the factory, which would mean he would spend most of the morning hauling the heavy tracts of yarn and fabric out to his cart. I imagined it was a rite of passage to have to carry the heavy loads and break one’s back once in a while. Especially when so many older folk might get too worn out to do it. On a cooler day in the autumn a little bit of sweat didn’t hurt, not when the natural heat of a body at work kicked in. I turned to face him then and cleared my throat.

“Got a few of these in the back, and then some of big ‘uns right here out front. I can get some of the other girls to lay out some of it fer yah, so you don’t have to go all the way in the back every time…” I chewed my lip as I motioned towards the curtain in the back. Mrs. Elderwood didn’t like gentlemen disturbing the girls. “And I can even help you carry some of the heavy ones, if you’d like. I know it must get awful tiring having to make sure all of it gets where it’s supposed to go. Seen a few men do this back and forth and they always get tired half-way through. Though I don’t account that all of that is due to them bein’ tired… sometimes I think they just want to talk to the girls…” I say with a grin.

A quick trip to the back and ignited a hurried hush of voices—a squeal or two came out when I told the girls a young man was out front—and it wasn’t long before Mrs. Elderwood had to settle the lot of us down and direct the girls to help me bring what was needed toward the front. I began dragging a few things out of the curtain, nearly tangling myself up in the fabric before at last plopping down some of it at his feet. I hoped that I hadn’t come across as too babbling—Leslie Anne liked to say I was more of river of words than anything, sometimes drowning people in all that I had to say.

“You must be awful strong having to do this all the time. I’m glad I get to spend most of my time workin’ with mah fingers!” I grin as I put my hands into my pockets. It wasn’t as if I necessarily had a choice, though. Either piece making for me, or wind up in a factory somewhere. At least at Elderwood’s I had a good job and a decent pay. “My name’s Ruby by the way…” I offered with a hand.

[/size][/justify]

teezoen
Seam Resident

45 POSTS
last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5

Little By Little [tee] Oct 2, 2012 23:57:58 GMT -5

Post by teezoen on Oct 2, 2012 23:57:58 GMT -5

ALDER HEATH

I wasn't sure what I expected to hear when she spoke, or to see when she looked up, but I guess it surprised me, anyway. Maybe it was the sudden change in her demeanor, or maybe it was how her dark brown eyes looked when she looked up at me. Maybe it was the way she talked- her accent was somehow comforting and friendly all at once. She seemed friendly enough, anyway, pointing out the few rolls of the material in the room and then offering to help with the other ones. I nodded my thanks- I wasn't all that strong on my own, and I'd probably need the help.

Her next comment about men, however, caught me off guard. I felt red splotch across my cheeks, and I winced for just a moment. But I can't help myself when I see her smile, and I feel my lips tug upwards as well. Infectious. That might be a good word to describe the feeling. Maybe it was because I hadn't been able to smile since the Reaping, but her smile had me feel much better about the morning. I waited for her to return, listening with some amusement to the sounds behind the curtain. I thought to myself that if the girls did come rushing out to see me, they'd be rather disappointed. I was just a normal guy, after all. Nothing special. (The Peacekeepers kept that drilled into our brains pretty regularly.)

As she sets the first two large bundles down, I can see what she meant by "heavy", and why I only had the one place to visit. I had anticipated a large load, even a few heavy bundles of wool. I had not anticipated this many of them, or that they would be heavy enough to need two people to lift. My task suddenly looked just that much more daunting.

Hearing what she has to say about my strength as I lean down to look at the bundle, I feel myself blush again. I most certainly am NOT that strong, but before I can protest her optimistic analysis of my abilities, she's already introduced herself and extended a hand. I nervously rise and stand back up. We're about even in height, I realize suddenly, as I extend my own hand and grip hers with a firm handshake. "I am Alder. Nice to meet you, Ruby." My smile, as I look at her, isn't some corny thing that flies to your face when "politeness" requires it. It's me, smiling back at another person. Because I want to.

I then looked gravely down at the large roll of woolen material and squat down. I put it over my shoulder, and lift with my legs- they're the only strong part of me. I manage to get it off the ground, and slowly turn so I don't hit anything with the bundle as I turn to leave. I can feel the weight of it on my shoulder, and I walk out the propped door to my cart. Bill is still waiting for me, patient as every horse I've ever worked with. I throw the bundle down into the cart, and huff out a sigh of relief as the weight leaves my shoulder. Only the whole cart left to fill, then.

I walk back inside and chuckle I see many more bundles waiting for me. I am not sure why, but I feel suddenly like talking as I work, despite my usual shy tendencies. Maybe it was her smile that was so friendly and warm. Whatever it is, my voice is lighter than it was when I came in as well. The weight of my burdens has left me for the moment. "They must keep you girls busy back there, to get all of this done." I gesture around at the finished products that hang like glorious trophies from the pegs and mannequins as I kneel down to get another bundle. "Plus, all of that must take time and skill as well... you must be pretty good." I grin up at her as I shoulder the second bundle. "You make any of this in particular?"

cyrus
Seam Resident

0 POSTS
last seen Jan 31, 2013 5:26:13 GMT -5

Little By Little [tee] Oct 4, 2012 20:42:30 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Oct 4, 2012 20:42:30 GMT -5

Ruby Tuesday

-----

Narratin’
Thinkin’
Speakin’
Listenin’

-----

“The pleasure’s mine, Alder,” I say as I watch him pick up the first bundle. I flushed a little as he smiled at me and made sure that I looked back down at the ground. Leslie Anne always pressed me on whether or not I thought much of anything about boys—asking me if I fancied other people, her subtle way of asking about my interest in the girls in the shop—to which I’d let out a sigh and tell her to leave me alone. I was talkative enough, and I liked smoothing out edges or filling pauses in conversation. All the girls my age seemed ready to giggle and flirt with boys—but I was more interested in what was outside of the shop, or of escaping into my own head to be bound by such things.

When he mentioned the quality of our work I gave a nod. This was a season that brought about a lot of work, the time when the air grew colder and people needed their heavy coats or longer dresses. Mrs. Elderwood had high standards, and it showed in the quality of all her pieces. Not a stitch out of place. Well, not if you wanted to stay here.

[/color] Any girl that didn’t pull her weight was certain to be dismissed, in a hushed tone and a shameful point of the finger. Mrs. Elderwood tried hard to hide it, when the girl would just not turn up for work the next day, but we could always tell when someone wouldn’t be coming back. I’d been lucky enough to be blessed with a keen eye and slim fingers. That and a mouth that made sure never to question any of her decisions.

“Well, we don’t have much time fer anything, yah know? Jus’ trying to get by and make sure everyone gets their stuff on time…” I say as I motion to one of the finely stitched coats. “We work in the back—oh—ten hours or so. Maybe from the mornin’ time until the sun goes down. Break for dinner and finish up jus’ a little ‘fore midnight. Sometimes we stay all the way through the night if it’s somethin’ real important. Got some people that can pay good money—some things that even get shipped out to the capitol—and we gots to make sure that no one messes nothing up. But I suppose it’s got to be the same fer you all. How long they keep you up in them factories anyway?”

Would have been nice to have been out in the fields on a day like this. Was one of my dreams, to be rich enough to just spend days like this in the fall outside. With a hot cup of tea, sippin’ on a porch and watching time roll by—wouldn’t that be the life?[/color]. Maybe someday, I supposed, that there would be some luck and hard work on my side. That’s how you got ahead in this world, at least, that’s what I contended. Too many people gave up or got on to unimportant things. When we was focused more on ourselves than the future we got bogged down in what didn’t matter. But sometimes I got caught dreamin’ too far. My head was up in the clouds, they’d say.

“Suppose any work is better then none, though. I’m thankful for it all…” I brush a few strands of hair behind my ears. Still, it didn’t mean I couldn’t hope for a little bit more than I had. Was that reasonable enough? “You jus’ start up there or did they finally jus’ let you come on down here…?"
[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

teezoen
Seam Resident

45 POSTS
last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5

Little By Little [tee] Oct 5, 2012 14:14:26 GMT -5

Post by teezoen on Oct 5, 2012 14:14:26 GMT -5

ALDER HEATH

I listened to her talk as I walked the second bundle outside to the cart, tossing it beside the other. It was near enough that she could see me and talk to me easily, which was nice- because I did want to talk, but I also needed to get this done. The last thing I needed was being scolded for slacking on the job. I walked by her as she finished her talk, and pulled the third bundle up onto my shoulder. At least there was rhythm to this work. It wasn't easy, and my shoulder was going to ache terribly later, but at least there was rhythm.

I continued conversing as I carried it outside. "Depends on the day, y'know? Could be a simple 10 hour shift in the warehouse packing stuff up. Could be longer if we have a large shipment to get out. Really depends on how much we've got to get done." I shrugged a little, and then tossed the third bundle into the cart. Hearing her again, I nodded, not not as avidly as the first time. Thankful for the work. I was not thankful for the work. I may have been thankful for the wage, but we were nothing better than slaves, and we all knew it. I suppose the wage and the job are inseparable. One comes with the other, so I may as well be thankful. For what?

Another question to answer. At least it kept me going. I'd get lost in my thoughts and fall into dark areas of thought I'd rather keep out of. At least she was helping with that. Which was help enough, really. "Well, I've worked there on and off through school for a few years. It's just recently that they've started sending me out for pickups like this. It's seasonal anyway. We don't always pick up stuff from you guys. Usually, we just pack up the stuff from the factories. It gets shipped out all the time." Another question, another bundle over my shoulder and slapped into the cart. The rest of my morning would be filled this way. At least a few hours of it. I hope that Bill wouldn't mind, but somehow, his expression was taking on somewhat of a scowl, as if saying, "Oh, this again." He knows better.

I reach for the fifth bundle when I struggle to think of a question to ask her. Nothing about pay- too personal. Family- same. Work? We just talked about it. This is my usual problem, of course. I just run out of things to talk to people about, or I feel awkward and can't think of anything to say. So I'm halfway out the door, when I stumble about with my words and manage to say, "These things are heavy. They'd better be warm for all that."

cyrus
Seam Resident

0 POSTS
last seen Jan 31, 2013 5:26:13 GMT -5

Little By Little [tee] Oct 8, 2012 23:47:37 GMT -5

Post by cyrus on Oct 8, 2012 23:47:37 GMT -5

Ruby Tuesday

-----

Narratin’
Thinkin’
Speakin’
Listenin’

-----

It was the way things usually went with boys, at least for me anyway. They’d say something—most of the time meanin’ nothin’—and then we’d drift off into this silence that would hang between the two of us for a while. I don’t suppose I was any good at filling the silence with anything more than some hot air. That’s what my brother always complained about, said I didn’t speak to say anything. Boys wouldn’t want me if all I did was made ‘em bored. And the last little thing that I ever wanted to be in my whole life was boring. But I supposed that was how it was in District 8. We hid behind the colors of fabric so we didn’t have to admit just how boring our lives really was. I rubbed my nose and looked over at a few of the pieces we’d set out in front of the shop as Alder lugs around the fabrics.

It’s tiring all of it,

[/color] I realize, the trudging back and forth. He’s no good at words, I can already tell, and in my own way I ain’t either. I could talk for hours about nothing at all—I’d hoped that it might open him up a little bit. But with all my chirping he was still pretty quiet. Didn’t ask me about myself or nothin’. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m interesting at all. Or maybe he just wants to get his job done and get out of here.[/color] But the longer he stayed, the more likely it was I could get out of doing any piecework in the back room. My hands were still tired from the last day’s work, and it was a nice excuse to have to help a customer. I cleared my throat as he came back in, mentioning the types of hours they worked in the factory.

“We make some of the best stuff here, don’t think nobody gonna be cold in what’s ours…” I stammer out. The words fall flat and I twiddle my thumbs together. Ain’t nothing worse than when the silence creeps up and I can feel my skin prickle. It’s that low feeling when I don’t have nothing to say but the silence hangs… makes you wish you could disappear a little while. I don’t flush—I’m not some shy flower after all—but I do chew on my lip more than I should. It’s not every day that a boy walks into the shop, ‘specially one my own age. And he was nice enough. Seemed like he had more to say, if I could get him to say it.

“Do you do anything outside of hauling all this stuff around?” I look out the window towards the cart and horse. “Not in the factory but, you know, outside of that. Not like you got much time… but I like to sing and dance m’self. There’s a little place in town where I go…” I give a shrug as I keep looking out at the horse, not making eye contact with Alder. “I go there with my brother sometimes… it’s a lot of fun, you know? Sometimes even after working real late here, it’s nice enough to know I gots somewhere else to go…”
[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

teezoen Seam Resident 45 POSTS last seen May 24, 2015 23:31:10 GMT -5	Little By Little [tee] Oct 10, 2012 17:48:52 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by teezoen on Oct 10, 2012 17:48:52 GMT -5 (((OOC: Bye Luke. Take care man. )))