Should I be?
Jan 4, 2011 3:40:33 GMT -5
Post by Christine~*~ on Jan 4, 2011 3:40:33 GMT -5
/~Carliene~\
I lay on my bed. The warm, silk blankets that cover my neck down, makes me never want to leave this place. My body is perfectly still, my head on the soft white pillow, the color of the pearls, my pearls. I stare at the cyan ceiling above me, my mind blank. I close my eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but the sunlight entering my messy room and the birds chirping their song outside, remind me that it's morning. Today is another good day for a garden walk, I tell myself. But I'm still on my bed, not wanting to leave. Still, I don't stay there for long. I finally get up, brush my teeth, take off my nightgown and take a fairly cold shower. I step out of my bathroom wearing my bathrobe. I open my closet, my closet full of t-shirts, checkered polo shirts, denim jeans and shorts. I pick out a red shirt and a brown polo to put over it. I also grab a thick black jacket and my red and yellow striped scarf, since it's really cold outside. I wear my jeans, the kind that make my legs feel warm every winter, and my black winter boots. I get my gloves and hold them as I go outside my room and down the stairs. No one is in the living room. I head to the kitchen, get two slices of bread, spread butter on every side, and let them toast. When they are ready, I take them, and bring them with me. I step outside our porch, and close my eyes as the cool air blows toward my face. I open them and start walking. As I walk along the sidewalk, I look at the silent houses, the silent snowy road. It snowed last night in our district. When I finish the first slice, I pick up a handful of snow, roll it into a snowball, and hurl it towards the nearest tree. I carry on walking, taking out the the second and last slice from the plastic bag. I watch some kids go out of their houses and huddle together. Judging by their appearance, they seem to be attending Career training. I finish the last slice and look to where I am going.
The Hunger Games are still going on. Yes, I do watch it every night, and each time I watch the Careers, fighting, surviving and all, I start to doubt that I'm a child from District 1, of the Truces, especially. When I was eligible for the reaping two years ago, it was Liz's last year in Career training and the reaping. She was frightening, especially with wrestling. Now that I'm fourteen, this is Criselda's last year. She said she seems to enjoy it, mainly because she gained a lot of friends that help her stay fit. When she holds sleepovers at our house they usually introduce themselves as future Careers, and there's no doubt about them. They're muscular, some of the girls even look more manly than the boys. I once watched them practice running in the backyard, and nobody got tired for at least 20 minutes. William, he still has two years to attend, and he's improving his archery skills. We have this mini-Career center, but the only weapons you can find there are bows and arrows, spears and some knives. He's lucky enough to have the bow and arrow there, and he once hit the bull's eye 10 times continuously. He also tries out other stations but I guess archery is his best.
My feared sister. My easily socializing other sister. My archery expert brother. What am I, then? I do have fair knowledge about the factories and the ponds and the animals and the trees, but I don't think they are the stuff I need to know when I participate in The Hunger Games. They aren't the knowledge you needed to be a Career. To be a Career, you have to be strong. Tough. You know how to survive. Brutality, that's an option, but a lot of them have it. I just don't fit in any of those. I can be a Career, but not as quickly as everyone else, I guess. I can be my own Career, but that might not help me win the Games. But then, maybe I can try. Maybe I can be frightening during training, but have a good heart in reality. Maybe I can wrestle better than Liz. Maybe I can make a lot of friends like Criselda. Maybe I might not be as good in archery like William, but I can throw knives and spears very well. Maybe I can be a Career.
But this is all confusing. I watch as more Careers head to their training. "Am I a Career?" My thoughts bring me to say it, and also let out a deep sigh. I see fog form from my breath. I decide to sit down on the sidewalk, and watch as the road goes alive for the day.
I lay on my bed. The warm, silk blankets that cover my neck down, makes me never want to leave this place. My body is perfectly still, my head on the soft white pillow, the color of the pearls, my pearls. I stare at the cyan ceiling above me, my mind blank. I close my eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but the sunlight entering my messy room and the birds chirping their song outside, remind me that it's morning. Today is another good day for a garden walk, I tell myself. But I'm still on my bed, not wanting to leave. Still, I don't stay there for long. I finally get up, brush my teeth, take off my nightgown and take a fairly cold shower. I step out of my bathroom wearing my bathrobe. I open my closet, my closet full of t-shirts, checkered polo shirts, denim jeans and shorts. I pick out a red shirt and a brown polo to put over it. I also grab a thick black jacket and my red and yellow striped scarf, since it's really cold outside. I wear my jeans, the kind that make my legs feel warm every winter, and my black winter boots. I get my gloves and hold them as I go outside my room and down the stairs. No one is in the living room. I head to the kitchen, get two slices of bread, spread butter on every side, and let them toast. When they are ready, I take them, and bring them with me. I step outside our porch, and close my eyes as the cool air blows toward my face. I open them and start walking. As I walk along the sidewalk, I look at the silent houses, the silent snowy road. It snowed last night in our district. When I finish the first slice, I pick up a handful of snow, roll it into a snowball, and hurl it towards the nearest tree. I carry on walking, taking out the the second and last slice from the plastic bag. I watch some kids go out of their houses and huddle together. Judging by their appearance, they seem to be attending Career training. I finish the last slice and look to where I am going.
The Hunger Games are still going on. Yes, I do watch it every night, and each time I watch the Careers, fighting, surviving and all, I start to doubt that I'm a child from District 1, of the Truces, especially. When I was eligible for the reaping two years ago, it was Liz's last year in Career training and the reaping. She was frightening, especially with wrestling. Now that I'm fourteen, this is Criselda's last year. She said she seems to enjoy it, mainly because she gained a lot of friends that help her stay fit. When she holds sleepovers at our house they usually introduce themselves as future Careers, and there's no doubt about them. They're muscular, some of the girls even look more manly than the boys. I once watched them practice running in the backyard, and nobody got tired for at least 20 minutes. William, he still has two years to attend, and he's improving his archery skills. We have this mini-Career center, but the only weapons you can find there are bows and arrows, spears and some knives. He's lucky enough to have the bow and arrow there, and he once hit the bull's eye 10 times continuously. He also tries out other stations but I guess archery is his best.
My feared sister. My easily socializing other sister. My archery expert brother. What am I, then? I do have fair knowledge about the factories and the ponds and the animals and the trees, but I don't think they are the stuff I need to know when I participate in The Hunger Games. They aren't the knowledge you needed to be a Career. To be a Career, you have to be strong. Tough. You know how to survive. Brutality, that's an option, but a lot of them have it. I just don't fit in any of those. I can be a Career, but not as quickly as everyone else, I guess. I can be my own Career, but that might not help me win the Games. But then, maybe I can try. Maybe I can be frightening during training, but have a good heart in reality. Maybe I can wrestle better than Liz. Maybe I can make a lot of friends like Criselda. Maybe I might not be as good in archery like William, but I can throw knives and spears very well. Maybe I can be a Career.
But this is all confusing. I watch as more Careers head to their training. "Am I a Career?" My thoughts bring me to say it, and also let out a deep sigh. I see fog form from my breath. I decide to sit down on the sidewalk, and watch as the road goes alive for the day.
