The yard (Semper)

I don’t quite know how long I’ve been walking. I’ve never been to Two before, and the first thing I do when in a new district – as is tradition – is find a bar. I’ve been sober for a few days and that’s longer than I’d usually like to be on this side of reality; not only that but my leg is sore from rubbing up against the wooden cup of my peg leg. A limp has started affecting my gait and I start to hobble slower, and slower, and slower. A low grumble escapes me and I rub my face, lurching sideways every other step, trying to keep as much weight off my gimpy leg as I possibly can.

Along the way I stop someone and ask them where the nearest bar is and they point in the general direction. I give them a nod and then hobble away a bit quicker than before with the goal of alcohol getting closer and closer. Between me and my destination stretches a yard that I don’t really give much thought to – it’s just a plot of grass so I don’t think anything of it. A little grin comes to my face and I wobble through the yard, spotting the bar off in the distance—

Someone yells and then something strikes against my head, knocking me completely sideways and onto the ground. ”Ow!” My hand shoots up to where I had been struck and I rub it, propping myself up on my elbow. My eyes narrow and I immediately find the person who threw whatever it was. ”Well I was about to get off the property until you threw whatever it was at me.”


((I HAVEN’T WRITTEN MAHOGANY IN LIKE THREE YEARS ALSKGLGSKLH PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR THIS POST))

I continue to rub my head, muttering under my breath. I haven’t done anything wrong, have I? No, I was just passing through a stretch of lawn, nothing illegal or even provoking. But this guy – whoever he thinks he is – is the reason I’m now stuck on the ground until I either drag myself to a tree or just take about ten minutes to get myself up off the ground. Great, just great, I’m stuck here now with this blundering idiot. I exhale sharply, groaning. And all I wanted was to go drink.

”No shit it was a rock,” I grumble dropping my hand to the ground. The guy takes a defensive stance and already I can tell he’s blaming me for something. You don’t just look at someone that degradingly and not have a purpose for it. ”Steal parts? Parts of what?” The confusion in my voice is evident and causes the tone to strain. I look up at him with a bewildered expression. ”This is my first time ever in District Two, and do you honestly think that, even if I did steal something, that I could even get away fast enough?” I thrust my hand out to gesture to the wooden extension of my stumpy leg. ”I was just heading over to the bar and now, thanks to you, it’ll take me a solid ten minutes to get up. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to crawl over to a tree.” Without even waiting for any kind of response I hoist up to my hands and knee and begin to awkwardly crawl in the direction of the nearest tree. ”If you don’t believe me then you can be so kind as to accompany me to the bar and see me on my way.”

I swear, if I roll my eyes any harder at this guy they’re going to pop right out of my face. Is he really being serious? I snort and huff. ”I’m not a victor and your deducing skills are horrendously remarkable.” The sarcasm in my voice is so think it’s almost dripping off the words. ”Have you ever heard of a wanderer?”

That doesn’t appear to pacify him – he starts accusing me, calling me out for “playing dumb” and I do my best to simmer down the anger that’s starting to boil up. How the hell am I even going to try to get through this guy’s thick skull? He’s obviously dead set on bringing me, the fake criminal, to justice, and he shoves me over onto my side again. This time I just lay there and glare up at him, setting my jaw tightly. He threatens me with the detention center and I scoff. ”Oh no, prison!” I know I’m trying to be way over dramatic about the situation; I raise the back of my hand and press it to my forehead as if I’m in distress about a week in the detention center. He then hauls me up by my jacket and I teeter for a few moments before getting my balance. ”Oh why thank you.” The feel of his hand holding my neck so tightly makes me want to squirm, but if I do that then I know I’ll just topple over so I stay still, hobbling along beside him as he calls out for his dad. ”Meeting the parents already? We’ve only just met – I mean, I know I’m attractive but, seriously, we should get to know each other a bit better first.”

Obviously my humor isn’t getting through to him so I take it upon myself to chuckle at my own jokes. People start coming out of the building, all of them bigger and bulkier than me so they’re pretty intimidating. But I can’t run so whatever they’re planning to do with me I know I can’t escape it. Then an even larger guy steps out from behind the rest and I can only imagine that this is the guy’s dad. They look like the spitting image of each other so I think I can safely assume it. The son explains to his dad that he thinks he’s caught the thief. ”Your son’s great at problem solving,” I say. ”Not only that but I just met him only a few minutes ago and we must have fallen in love instantly because he’s already bringing me to meet you. I was on my way to the bar when I saw that beautiful face of his and I thought—“ I grabbed the son’s free hand and tugged it close to my chest in a dramatic fashion ”—oh how I must get to know him!”

”Well no shit, dude, I’m a wanderer, I live on the streets.” Really, by now this guy’s obliviousness to my status is getting almost annoying. But I keep up the playful act, hoping that it’ll get me somewhere – preferably away from this guy and his dad and that band of brainless brutes.

Well, grabbing his hand seems to do the trick. He jerks himself free of my grip and shoves me away, demanding that I get my “filthy paws” off of him. I stumble a good bit, of course, but ultimately I keep my balance and remain standing up, thank Ripred. I shift my weight onto my foot, though, taking it off the peg-leg and giving my leg stump a chance to rest.

His father steps forward and eyes me, probably doing a few of his own deductions. I stand as still and lax as I can, looking the man right in the eyes whenever I get the chance to. A smile comes to my lips when he mentions that I’m not the so-called thief that his son labeled me as. My attention then turns to the son. ”Smart man, your dad is. I see where you got your deducing skills.” Just as sort of the punch to the joke I lean back to balance myself and lift my peg-leg off the ground, wriggling the muddy end in the son’s direction.

The dad speaks again and I can’t hide the shocked expression that comes to my face. ”What?” I say it at the same time the son does and, despite the amusement it should’ve brought me, I take a melodramatic stance. ”I’m just trying to get to the bar, can’t I just be on my way? Feel free to even accompany me there – maybe after a few drinks this’ll all just blow over. C’mon, man, you look like someone who could loosen up with a few beers right about now. A good way to start off the morning, yeah?”

The kid snaps back at me in a rather harsh tone, one that makes me put on a mask of hurt. ”Boyfriends don’t talk to each other with that language, don’t you know?” The emotional trauma in my voice is fake but very evident and dramatic. I don’t know why this guy’s all uptight anyway, it’s just a few harmless pranks I’m pulling on him. Maybe he’s the one that needs a drink or two. Hm, perhaps I could talk him into drinking with me later.

His dad answers, low and dark, that he doesn’t drink. Oh, well of course. The grin does not fall from my face even as I notice the guys surrounding me. Do they really think I can run away from them? They’re sorely mistaken and it’s almost comical how they think I’d try to escape. I can’t even walk fast. My fake boyfriend’s words sound close in my ear, saying that it’d be best if I took the offer. I cast a glance back at him as if he’s stupid I’d even think of not taking it. I want to drink, yes, but I’ve gotten into a mess that I can’t get out of because I can’t run away.

”You have ten seconds to decide. Clock’s running.”

The dad turns to leave and I lift up my wrist as if there’s a watch on it while I count down the seconds. ”Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.” I lower my hand. ”Well, seeing as you guys are all so incredibly smart to block a one-legged man from running away, I believe I’ll stay with you lovely lot for the day. And yes, it’s quite better than getting kicked in the ass, as a matter of fact.” I cast a glance back at the guy who caught me. ”You are all so kind that I will grace you with my presence for the remainder of the day, doing odd jobs and supervising and cheering you on as you valiantly charge forth in your tasks, completing them fully and with pride. Now, go forth, boyfriend! Show me to my station!”

Did he really just say what I thought he said? ”Sometimes it’d better to show some respect, young man.” But what were they doing to me? Not showing any respect! None of them even thought for a second that my story could hold any bit of truth and that really aggravates me. They were bashing me and labeling me as something I’m not and they shrugged off my reasons.

But, really, a thief is obviously the one with only one leg.

The amount of ‘are you fucking kidding me’ I put into my groaning is absolutely intense. If I rolled my eyes any harder at this dumb lot then they’d pop right out of my face. The kid pipes up again, though, with his squeaking and annoying voice, asking if I had just called him some awful name. ”No I didn’t, all I said was that you were m—“ A fist collides with my nose and the force of the impact sends me rocking backwards, falling onto the ground because I couldn’t keep my balance. Already I can feel blood gushing out of my nose and I let out a pained ”Oww, geez!” while brining my hand up to gently prod at the affected area.

The guy grabs my jacket. ”Well if you’re this rough out of bed I can only imagine what it’s going to be like in bed.” It’s a terrible joke but it’s all I can say aside from just damning this kid to hell for busting up my nose. The blood covers my hands now as I try to stop it but that’s just futile. ”What do you guys even do here? Am I going to be working with what you guys so wrongfully accused me of stealing? Ohh, maybe I’ll just steal some more.”

I don’t even have a legitimate reason for bugging this guy anymore – he’s just getting madder and madder and I find it quite comical. My nose hurts like hell, though, so I know now for certain that he won’t be afraid to throw more punches. I need to watch my mouth, honestly, but how many people have I come across that reacted this violently to my jests? Very, very few, I can tell you that. This is the first time I’ve ever been slugged on the face; I raise a bloodied hand up and stroke the little tuft of beard on my face. ”Well, whatever you do, don’t mess my little beard up.”

The guy drags me into the factory – or whatever it is – and I can see that there’s quite a bit of production going on. I don’t know what it is but it’s very mechanical and rather loud. My face twists up with the thought ’well the noise is rather inconvenient’ and I try to catch up to him, hobbling along on my peg-leg. I should have known that he would have me doing the dirty work: he says I’m to take the bins out into the yard and toss the trash away, and so of course the bins are chock full of all types of things that can cut me up. ”Oh, goodie,” I mumble, reaching over to take a bin. Luckily the thing has wheels on it or else there’s no way in hell I’d be able to move it. I carefully take hold of the rim and start to pull on it when the guy comes back with a tissue and hands it to me. ”Oh, thank you, you’re so kind.” I give a stupid grin and shove the tissue up my nose haphazardly. Then I wriggle my eyebrows at him. ”I’ll see you later, lover boy, alright?”