And Who Would Remember | Parks, please!
Jan 8, 2013 1:46:06 GMT -5
Post by carnistea on Jan 8, 2013 1:46:06 GMT -5
A storm was brewing.
This, Reever realized immediately the moment she was far enough from the house and overall civilization to truly smell nature. It was in the air, thick about her, a warning in the salt-breezes that blew from the ocean to cripple her loose hair into dry, crispy dark brown strands. She knew it with the certainty capable of any respectable fisherman that a tempest waited at the horizon, only biding its time before it hit shore and probably stirring up a whole lot of damage on the way.
It was for this reason that Reever grinned widely the moment she tasted the fresh air. It was also for this reason that she quickly changed course, forgoing the decision of going to the marketplace for the day - it was her break day after all - and instead returned home to grab the harpoon she was so fond of before heading toward an isolated, closed-in crater beach that she had discovered recently.
Because what was better than being right on the beach when the sea would stir in anger for a few hours, when the rain would beat down on them, and when the sky turned gray and dark and violent?
I'm insane, Reever thought to herself with the cheeky glee of someone who considered herself the wittiest of her classmates. With harpoon balanced on her shoulders, the fourteen-year-old girl walked down the rocky slope toward her spot of interest, the rocks shifting threateningly beneath her feet not seeming to faze her at all. She had taken this path before, and even when she missed a step or a rock actually moved, she only hopped onto another.
Fearless. That was what Reever liked to think of herself as. Some part of her denied this, calling her a coward, but Reever fancied it was the harsh voice of her own mother and then proceeded to ignore it.
The stones beneath her bare feet became sand, soon enough. Rough sand, but Reever did not mind. She hopped off the last rock and then wandered to the ocean's edge, where she took a running jump before slamming her feet down just as a wave came up. A childish giggle, breathless and perhaps a bit hysteric, escaped her throat as the cold water licked her skin.
Normally, Reever would not have been this careless. Normally, Reever would not attempt something so foolish as to walk all this way out here when it was safer deeper into the district where nobody could accuse her of any wrongdoings. But she did not care.
She did not care because the Reaping was coming soon and fear - oh, how it sat in her stomach and gnawed at her mind. Fear, fear, fear. She was fourteen. She was fourteen and her name was in the drawing and she might be sent off to die. Her parents might have insisted that she be sent off to die and-
"Enough," Reever said aloud. Told the clouded sky and dark sea before her. The waves crashed, ignorant of this puny girl's words. She found this oddly comforting. The harpoon was taken off her shoulder and the pointed tip slammed into the sand. She still stood where the waves could get to her, and Reever closed her eyes, felt the winds toss up her loose, long hair, and took comfort in the fact that nature had no obligation to care for her.
Those who did, after all, did not appear to.
"I wonder," she spoke up again, opening her eyes to gaze at the ocean thoughtfully. "I wonder that if I die, what's it going to be like? You know? How? Eaten by the Mutts? Knife in my ribs? Who would remember me?" Reever chuckled humorlessly and stared at the sea which had been her unfeeling companion for years. "Would you? Probably not, right? Why would you? I mean there are a thousand other people who would come and go. Why would you remember me?" Pause. Another laugh, bitter and a bit crazed. "But try, okay? 'Cos no one else will, I don't think."
I'm rambling, Reever told herself, picking up the harpoon again and setting it across her shoulders. She leaned on one leg, hand on hip, and stared out to sea again with a sigh. She wanted to stay positive. She really, really wanted to. And it was not absolute that she would be chosen for this Reaping.
The thought brought a smile to her lips. Backing out of the sea's reach, she sat down cross-legged on the sand and closed her eyes.
This, Reever realized immediately the moment she was far enough from the house and overall civilization to truly smell nature. It was in the air, thick about her, a warning in the salt-breezes that blew from the ocean to cripple her loose hair into dry, crispy dark brown strands. She knew it with the certainty capable of any respectable fisherman that a tempest waited at the horizon, only biding its time before it hit shore and probably stirring up a whole lot of damage on the way.
It was for this reason that Reever grinned widely the moment she tasted the fresh air. It was also for this reason that she quickly changed course, forgoing the decision of going to the marketplace for the day - it was her break day after all - and instead returned home to grab the harpoon she was so fond of before heading toward an isolated, closed-in crater beach that she had discovered recently.
Because what was better than being right on the beach when the sea would stir in anger for a few hours, when the rain would beat down on them, and when the sky turned gray and dark and violent?
I'm insane, Reever thought to herself with the cheeky glee of someone who considered herself the wittiest of her classmates. With harpoon balanced on her shoulders, the fourteen-year-old girl walked down the rocky slope toward her spot of interest, the rocks shifting threateningly beneath her feet not seeming to faze her at all. She had taken this path before, and even when she missed a step or a rock actually moved, she only hopped onto another.
Fearless. That was what Reever liked to think of herself as. Some part of her denied this, calling her a coward, but Reever fancied it was the harsh voice of her own mother and then proceeded to ignore it.
The stones beneath her bare feet became sand, soon enough. Rough sand, but Reever did not mind. She hopped off the last rock and then wandered to the ocean's edge, where she took a running jump before slamming her feet down just as a wave came up. A childish giggle, breathless and perhaps a bit hysteric, escaped her throat as the cold water licked her skin.
Normally, Reever would not have been this careless. Normally, Reever would not attempt something so foolish as to walk all this way out here when it was safer deeper into the district where nobody could accuse her of any wrongdoings. But she did not care.
She did not care because the Reaping was coming soon and fear - oh, how it sat in her stomach and gnawed at her mind. Fear, fear, fear. She was fourteen. She was fourteen and her name was in the drawing and she might be sent off to die. Her parents might have insisted that she be sent off to die and-
"Enough," Reever said aloud. Told the clouded sky and dark sea before her. The waves crashed, ignorant of this puny girl's words. She found this oddly comforting. The harpoon was taken off her shoulder and the pointed tip slammed into the sand. She still stood where the waves could get to her, and Reever closed her eyes, felt the winds toss up her loose, long hair, and took comfort in the fact that nature had no obligation to care for her.
Those who did, after all, did not appear to.
"I wonder," she spoke up again, opening her eyes to gaze at the ocean thoughtfully. "I wonder that if I die, what's it going to be like? You know? How? Eaten by the Mutts? Knife in my ribs? Who would remember me?" Reever chuckled humorlessly and stared at the sea which had been her unfeeling companion for years. "Would you? Probably not, right? Why would you? I mean there are a thousand other people who would come and go. Why would you remember me?" Pause. Another laugh, bitter and a bit crazed. "But try, okay? 'Cos no one else will, I don't think."
I'm rambling, Reever told herself, picking up the harpoon again and setting it across her shoulders. She leaned on one leg, hand on hip, and stared out to sea again with a sigh. She wanted to stay positive. She really, really wanted to. And it was not absolute that she would be chosen for this Reaping.
The thought brought a smile to her lips. Backing out of the sea's reach, she sat down cross-legged on the sand and closed her eyes.
