Moonlight on Falling leaves[open]

The walk home was surreal, the light wind tugging at my hair, spinning the ends into knots and curls. I knew that later it would be difficult to get them out. The small, pathetic brush that my family had was beaten and worn out. Most of the bristles were missing,replaced by empty spots, like an animal, missing most of its fur. The rest of it, it hardly helped as you could feel the burning in your scalp as it pulled and tugged. Life could be difficult, even like the simple luxury of brushing your hair was almost not granted to us here. Sometimes I wished that i had been born in district one, riches weighing me down as I am surrounded by people. I'm sure it would be better than running a small doll-shop that nobody ever comes to.

And suddenly the door was there, I needed to stop letting my daydreaming take over my life. It filled me to the brim, whisking me off to some magical land wherever I tried to go. I could not escape the calls to be in a different place, my eyes staring at the wall, just like Lucy. She sits there, her glassy blue eyes always focused on one thing. I always try to move her around so that she has more to look at than just the same thing every hour of the day. I feel sorry for her sometimes; I wish that she could be my friend, a real girl my age, not just some lonely doll up on a shelf. That she would talk to me, just like she did when I was little. We would laugh and run through the fields in the mixed light of day. Just like we used to.

Mom welcomed me at the door, her smile taking over her beautiful face. She had her hair pulled back into a tight bun on the top of her head. A few strands of hair peeked out of the sides as sweat steadily dripped down her pale face. I could tell that she had a hard day. The usual.

"How was your day, honey?" She smiled again, I could never figure out why she liked to do that so much. Wouldn't it hurt to keep your mouth pulled up in such a contortion?

"Fine," I lied.

School had been awful, the teachers with their constant nagging and carrying on about how they wish that they didn't have to be there. Many times I wanted to walk up to the front of the class and scream in their faces, not to dream about fantasies like that. They don’t like me daydreaming, why should I let them?

Meeting that girl was okay though. She was nice enough, she seemed kind of shy. In school, I seem bold. Outside of it though, I’m just another defenseless teenager that is trying to survive in the society of Panem, difficult, no? The teachers, sitting in their seats, their sunken in cheeks clashing with their stringy grey hair clasped into a messy bun. They sit like statues, never talking to us if they aren’t whining about their work. It’s tiring, listening to the moaning of their droning voices, seeking a false sence of attention and comfort from the students. I can now imagine how mom must have felt when I was a little child, a small little brat who wanted, no craved, attention from people. I'm still like that, just different, more careful and much smarter. I know the right way to act now; I don't get myself in trouble any more so that eyes can turn to my pretty little face. Bad attention, good attention, it was a mixing pot that I would stir up with my chubby little kid hands and drink down. It was all the same thing to me.

-

My eyes refused to shut as I sat in bed, my knees tucked up to my chest. Instead, they looked out the window, the moon now shining in, the light creating shadows on the wall, images with no face. Silhouettes that could mess with people’s minds. I always hated shadows, they were like dreams, and they sat there and quietly taunted you while you tried to cast them away in a fit of screaming. They never went; they followed you around like lost sheep until you stood in a building, completely rid of the light. Only then was there nothing to fear but the entire mass of shadow that gathered around you, darkness.

Pulling my blankets around my shoulders my eyes begin to close. Slowly at first, then faster until I was left there, in a state between dreams and reality and when I can remember no more. I am just a thing, a blob of nothing that has been set into nothing. I am no longer myself, I am dreaming.

-----

I soon wake, the morning light spitting its rays upon my thin eyelids. I don’t have school today, that's a good thing. Mom doesn’t have work off though; she is treated like an animal, kicked and beaten into shape. It’s common for people to be treated like that at the factories here. That’s why I refuse to work at one; I have my own small shop instead. Everything I sell is affordable; I wouldn’t want to seem arrogant by asking for too much from the good people of my district, no one is really rich here, no matter how buried down in money the officials seem.

By the time I am fully clothed, I am finally refreshed, my head has come out of the clouds and I have come to the acceptance that another day has arrived. I have always liked mornings, they hold promise and life in them. They hold power, a tool that can be used in so many different ways. Decisions are a part of every day. One mistake and your life can fall into the depths of an abyss. It isn’t that hard either, even the simplest thing can make you feel like your choking on air, water, life. It swallows you whole, you have to live with it forever, and you can’t go back.

I open the door; the metal feels cool on my hand as I turn the rusty knob. Outside the air is chilly; sometimes I wish I had a jacket. We can’t afford one though. Fall is always hard. Even so I walk on; mom tells me that walking will heat me up. It’s the ‘old’ way, she says. I think that she’s just trying to cheer me up most of the time, make me a more optimistic person. That will never happen.

I feel the urge to go to the tree again. The wind calls to me, its mythical voice parting through the air and spinning into my ears, beckoning me to the kingdom. I know I must come, it is waiting. Maybe that girl will be that. She seemed okay, I would like to see her again. What would it be like to have a friend? People have always thought of me as too arrogant, too quick and fast. No one ever wanted to talk to me, I see why.

The hill sits in front of me and I begin to climb. I see the tree, the girl is there, her light blonde hair falling down her back as though a waterfall. I raise my hand as I yell out to her.

“Hello, Hannah is it?”


{{ooc - I'm sorry for all the rambling and that ^^;}