Children of the corn [Plot]

new

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 15, 2024 17:39:08 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 14, 2013 19:22:20 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2013 19:22:20 GMT -5

Sampson Izar

[/color]

•••

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

•••

We’re children of the Summer[/color]. Momma and poppa had the three of us when the sun was high and the heat was hot. Says babies are healthier when they’re born in the summer, since the cold is harsher and the weather more unpredictable. Our birthdays loom large then, with each passing summer after reapings, our world growing a little bit older when the fireflies fly over the waves of grain. Benat was born first, and like every good older brother his birthday rose up at the end of June when the corn is still young. I came next, just on the third of July, when the humidity already made our shirts stick to our sweaty backs. It was Deval that came last, bringing up the rear and the last of us to wave off another year. We were quiet about birthdays[/color]. The word itself seemed almost forbidden for any of us to say, on account of how we never knew if another one was coming. There was the reapings, for sure, but the dependency on our crops, or the threat that some peacekeeper might tear one of us asunder for looking at him funny were constant threats.

There weren’t no pecan pie this year. We did that for Benat’s 16th birthday, when momma had stashed them away, and gotten enough for us to celebrate like it were some big milestone. I never guessed why she did it then—just felt like it was the right time—giving him a birthday with quiet bells and whistles. Just a candlelit dinner with some pie, laughing, and us telling Benat that we loved him. We don’t do that no more.[/color] It was like there was some kind of weight on me that day this year. I wanted momma or poppa to say something, but they was too busy with the farm and rushing around to even notice (did they notice?[/color]). It was hard enough remembering he would have been 19; I suppose the two of them have more on their minds now it’s just the four of us. I still talked to him—to the stars—and told him that there was nothing that would change me celebrating his day.

It’s what gave me the idea, with sweat dripping down my temples and my eyes full of light, that we had to have something to celebrate this year. Even after all this time, with the silence, the black, the death, everything that made all of us afraid or angry—we needed something to lift us up. Deval especially. I felt like I was seeing less of him now more than ever. We still slept in the same bed but the distance was growing. And maybe it was in my mind or it was the fact that that girl had gotten into his head, but we didn’t talk so much anymore. Is it a symptom of getting older that folk have less to say to one another? I still burned, thinking of all the things that seemed to be changing. For me 13 came and went with no big fuss, but I could feel I weren’t no kid no more. I was different, coming alive under the starlight.

But this constant drift nagged on me. Working in the fields I’d stare over at him, wondering what he was thinking about in that big ol’ head of his. Thinking about him, thinking about me, about how much older he was now. There was a low feeling about all of it. The reaping came and plucked up two more children, and just like that, we were wiped clean of our duties of being the family that lost their son.[/color] It didn’t mean we hadn’t lost Benat, but it meant that we didn’t have no spotlight on us no more. His name could still bring out the memory but, he was just another one to fall into the dust.[/color] We should have been over it by then. But the death of my brother weren’t no cut that was set to heal.

It was one that opened again and again, sometimes in places that could conjure up just the littlest vision of his face. In the twinge of the stalks of corn, when I thought about how he’d sing all day working in the fields. Or the long nights with fireflies, and how we used to catch them together. It’s a strange thing, the pain that comes up from my chest and into my throat. I control it more now than I ever did, but it didn’t make me strong. Didn’t make me forget, neither. It’s my forever pain[/color] that makes me have to fight through the hurt, and wish things could be different.

It’s what made me think about getting happy. We could spend the rest of our lives moping if we didn’t never do nothing happy. Benat wouldn’t have let the both of us sitting around so sad for his birthday. He’d want big flashes of light, like the fireworks they set off in the capitol, and music. He’d want fun and laughter and happy memories. So I set about collecting, gathering, getting my hands on all sorts of things that will—that I will have for the greatest, best party my brother has ever seen. And I do it for him, I decide that he needs this day because of all that it’ll mean to him. And to me, in a selfish sort of way. Because I feel happier when he is happy. When I get to give him something, and make him smile, that makes me smile, too. And all of us need something to smile about nowadays. We’re just drifting like a piece of wood down that stream, letting life pull us under.

It’s good I don’t talk much usually, it lets me slip about and invite the folk who are gonna show (I hope[/color]) for Deval’s celebration. We get little pyres to light in the fields, and some bread and sweat tea for treats. It ain’t much but it’s all I can do, working twice as hard in the fields and disappearing at night to call in favors from families up and down the road. It’s a fire that’s lit in me that I’ve never felt before. It’s scary, this pulse and need to do this, to celebrate something almost forbidden now. I even go so far as to let—and I can’t believe myself neither—that Corto girl come to our little shindig. But I invite the boys his age, the girls, our friends, all of them to the quiet little space in the middle of our fields. It’s exciting, this dangerous night spent celebrating a birth as though it was important (but it is important[/color]) and breaking free from what I’ve been told. Rules were the most important thing, keeping order—but maybe, just maybe, there were more important things to be done.

I set down the old blanket and some of the scarce treats I’ve begged and pleaded for this evening. It’s then that I stare up at the sky. I give one last prayer to the stars—that the whole evening would be one marvelous surprise, no matter what happened. And so I waited, hoping my brother would come—that everyone would—as was instructed on the scrap of paper in fancy (ugly[/color]) cursive I’d left.

•••

Are you beginning to get my point
That all this fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

[/color]

•••

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

Raseri
Career Tribute

552 POSTS
last seen Dec 5, 2023 15:35:48 GMT -5

mayor of bootyville

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 15, 2013 22:07:14 GMT -5

Post by Raseri on Jul 15, 2013 22:07:14 GMT -5

I had never been to a party before. There wasn’t much chance or reason for a celebration in Eleven, since our lives revolved around and depended on planting and picking crops, and if we did have a reason, it always seemed like we didn’t have enough free time, or enough money. Birthdays went unnoticed more often than not, in the Holbrook house anyways—in seventeen years, I’ve only gotten “Happy birthday, Emery”s for about half of them, mostly when I was a little kid—and I’ve only gotten one birthday present, a beaded bracelet on my sixteenth from a girl who’d liked me once. My uncle always told me there was no time to think about treats and presents when you got so many mouths to feed, and I always knew he was probably right. But there’s always been a part of me that’s wished I could know what it would be like to do it, to go all-out and celebrate something that deserved it. Sometimes I think it would be nice to forget about the needs, and focus for just a little while on the wants. Fun might not be a necessity, but it ain’t no crime.

That’s why I was so excited when I got that invitation from Sampson. I didn’t know anything about Deval, ‘cept that he was in the middle of the Izar boys—(although without Benat, I guess he was the oldest now)—but I was willing to meet him, for Sampson if not for anything else; I was his friend, after all, and what kind of friend would I be if I ditched him when he wanted me to come to the get-together he’d planned? It was real sweet of him to put all this together for his big brother, and I didn’t suppose he’d be happy if nobody showed up to the party. I figured both of those boys could use a little more of this kind of thing in their lives—friendship, happiness—after all the stuff that’s happened to them. Besides, I’d never gotten to do anything like this before, and I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity when it was staring me in the face.

After I’d decided to come to the party, it struck me that I’d better bring a present, but I didn’t know what to bring. Deval was a stranger, just a name that I thought of as “Sampson’s brother”, and I didn’t have the slightest idea what he was interested in. I wasn’t good at making anything, really; I mean, I could build some stuff but you couldn’t really carry a tool shed or a tree house to a birthday party. I was fairly good at carving, but I didn’t think any boy my age would want one of the junky little wooden figures I usually made for fun; you can’t exactly do much with that sort of thing. I thought about trying to bake him something, like one of the apple pies we made for Adrian when he was all done with school, but I didn’t think we had any apples, and even if we did, I doubted that my aunt would let me use them up. Pies don’t last very long anyways, I’d thought. I want to give him something that’ll last. Something useful.

That’s when I decided to give him a pen knife, I mean, you couldn’t get more useful than that. There were about three of them in the chest at the foot of Desmond’s and my bed, and I only needed one, so I picked out one that I’d fashioned myself out of an old piece of metal and some wood, since it had barely ever been used. I wrapped it up in one of the scraps of extra cloth Aunt Susan always saved, and tied it with a string. It actually looked pretty ~~messy~~ neat when I was done, and I really hoped Deval would like it. There was a certain thrill to be had from giving someone a gift and knowing it made them happy, a good feeling that just made your heart soar in your chest, and I couldn’t wait to give mine to Deval tonight.

When my aunt asked why I would be going out, and I told her I was going to a birthday party for one of the Izar boys, I thought she’d tell me I needed to stay and give me yet another lecture about how I had responsibilities at home if I was gonna live under her roof, blah blah blah. But she didn’t object. She even baked a little loaf of cornbread for the occasion, packing it in a basket so I could take it along with me. Uncle Gabe gave me six of his chestnuts to put in the basket too—he was always saving them up. It took me by surprise, since we usually had to save all the food we could. I guess they probably just felt sorry for Deval, since he lost his brother and all. But it didn’t hurt to spare a little bit of food for someone, I thought, if it brought a smile to their face on their birthday. Especially someone who probably needed a smile.

My bare feet pad softly against the summer grass as I head off towards the field where Sampson said the party was gonna be. I wonder what it’ll be like. Will it be a quiet little gathering, just a few friends sharing stories and giving gifts? Or will it be a full-on celebration, filled with food and games and merriment, dancing and laughing, moonlit smiles running through a starlit field, singing a birthday song to the rhythm of the crickets? Maybe there will be a fire, like the one we’d roasted chestnuts over when Uncle Gabe had saved up enough of them for all of us. I’ll be happy with the party no matter what it’s like, I decide, as long as I get to give this pen knife to Deval, and share my cornbread with everyone.

Sampson is the only person in sight when I arrive. He’s sitting on a blanket in the little clearing in the corn field, looking up at the sky. I wave at him. ”Hey, Sampson! I brought some food,” I tell him with a smile, holding up the basket. ”It’s not much, cornbread and a couple of chestnuts, but…” I don’t really know how to finish my sentence, so I just let it trail off as I sit cross-legged on the blanket next to Sampson. I’m grinning, probably more excited than I have reason to be. ”Stars are really bright tonight, huh? Man, this is gonna be great.” I can’t wait to see who all shows up. I hope there’s a good turnout.

thinking, doing, hearing, ”saying,” other

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

"i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
i lift my lids and all is born again.
(i think i made you up inside my head.)"

zakattack
Merchant

[M:-450]

152 POSTS
last seen Dec 31, 2013 14:15:27 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 17, 2013 12:29:37 GMT -5

Post by zakattack on Jul 17, 2013 12:29:37 GMT -5

Pa’s gonna tan my hide.

[/i] There was no other way around it. When he found out that I sneaked out several bottles of his distilled potato gin he was going to whip me senseless. Booze in any form was hard to come by here in District 11, unless you made it yourself and even then it was something we didn’t advertise for fear of the Peacekeepers…though tonight that fear was worth it. Deval deserved some fun, well we all did. So I had spent the last few weeks brewing and stewing up my own little pots of homemade fermented wine so we’d have a small variety of beverages to choose from. I was still amazed that after giving Sampson a nasty shiner that day at the watering hole that he invited me to help with the party. Maybe it was only for Deval, but the fact I was included made me not hate him quite as much.

So I had spent all my free time after my shifts in the orchards dodging the now frequent storms (just like the one that brought Deval and myself together) in the comfort of Deval’s presence. He had become my best friend and sometimes even more so quickly and I couldn’t even put together what his place in my life had become other than I didn’t want to ever go back to not having him in it. He made me feel like I was okay to be just me, that I didn’t have to try to mesh in with my brothers and sisters and be like them. Part of me wanted to give him something special for tonight, Something I only had once chance to give to someone special[/i] but even with the liquid courage I still wasn’t sure he’d want what I thought he love.

So just in case I traded away one of my favorite shirts, one that was not totally threadbare and overly small, for a small compass meant to be tie tack. Scribbling a note with my loopy girlish handwriting that said

To always find your way back to where you belong.

Forever,
Asha

[/i][/center]

I hoped that he’d understand that I meant me as I hastily wrapped the little trinket in a burlap square and tied it with one of my old hair ribbons . Maybe I loved Deval, maybe I loved Emery, but I didn’t think my life would be completely without Deval. Was it stupid to feel something like that so young?

Tucking the parcel into the pocket of my cut off jean shorts I tugged on a shirt I had slipped out of my sisters drawer. It was a soft fabric printed and light and cut like a halter top to accent what I thought I had in curves and I pulled my hair into a ponytail down the side of my head. I felt almost silly trying to look special for the festivities, for some reason I always felt more at home in the dirty and dust than dressed up like a lady from the Capitol. My feet slipped into a slightly worn pair of white flat shoes, normally only used for Reaping day, and I prayed that the ground wasn’t too muddy that I would ruin them. Climbing out my window the way I had so many times before I hopped down the side of the house and made my way to the backyard where I had hidden the bag filled with the mason jars of booze.

They were all carefully wrapped in the bag with scraps of wool and fabric to keep them from banging around and the lids were seals tight as not to spill. There was enough in the bag to hopefully let everyone at the party have their fair share depending on how many people showed up, Sampson had carefully written out invitations to several people and I hoped they didn’t disappoint by not showing up. I really wasn’t sure how much each person would drink but I didn’t want Sampson to think I had skimped out on the only thing he asked me to bring. I wanted Deval’s party to be as perfect as him.

The bag hung heavy on my shoulder as I made my way as silently as I could through the outskirts of town and deep into the corn where we had listed as the meeting spot. I was going to drop off all the supplies and then hopefully head back to get Deval to help surprise him, but something told me I’d be caught up at the party site and prayed that Deval didn’t chicken out the way I might when we were alone. Because what type of party doesn’t have the guest of honor.

The closer I get I could hear the muffled voices through the corn and the glow of the fire, as my hand moved the last stalk out of the way I was overcome with the site of Emery and Sampson sitting on a blanket with goodies around them. My face was already heated from carrying the heavy bag but it burned a brighter red to see Emery. There was no way he wouldn’t find my outfit silly or the way I had tried to fix up my hair. I was so torn between my feelings for Deval and my feelings for Emery I didn’t know up from down and I just wanted to run and hide for a moment. Instead I stepped in huffing and puffing and plunked the bag down gently before crouching and pulling out the jars. “I got as many as I could Sampson...I wasn’t sure how many people were coming but you told me you wanted a couple jars”[/color] looking down I realized I had 6 jars of the wine and 4 of the nearly clear gin that smelled as strong as the stuff they used to clean our cuts and scrapes in the field. Chewing on my lip I looked up at Emery and blushed tucking a stray strand of hair away from my face. This would make my gift to Deval even harder. [/i] Tonight I knew I’d have to end up choosing and even though I didn’t know if Emery even liked me like that, the thought put a pit in my stomach. “Glad you could come Emery”[/color]I smiled and moved to sit on the blanket next to him and Sampson as I realized just what type of trouble tonight could be.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/color][/justify]

Sampson
Merchant

[M:-50]

162 POSTS

last seen Sept 7, 2018 6:51:56 GMT -5

pardon me, just getting used to v5...

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 17, 2013 22:14:29 GMT -5

Post by Sampson on Jul 17, 2013 22:14:29 GMT -5

Send him to the stars. It was the only thing I could think as I grinned at the screen while watching the recap for the Bloodbath of the 64th Hunger Games. I'd missed it when it was originally on, but now I can finally watch. Last year, I had pleaded with God to let Benat make it through, to let the boy from 11 get away unscathed. Now, I whisper curses in hopes that the boy from 11 stands no chance. I want him to die. More than just wanting, I will it. It's a desire so thick in my skull, it makes me feel sick. Why do I want the male tribute from our district to die? Shouldn't it be the opposite? No. Benat was the greatest tribute from 11. I want his fight, his run in the arena, to leave the latest tribute in the dust. I want Xavier Gregory's existence in the Games to be completely shadowed by the brilliance that was my brother last year. The best way to ensure that? The Bloodbath—where the least memorable die and fade away, never to be thought of again. I want Xavier Gregory's face in the arena's sky tonight and, by the looks of it, I'll get my way. He's already lost both his ears to the few brutal tributes still hacking away at others with their swords. C'mon, Xavier, stay there and die. My mind is full of poison taunts as I'm stuck by the screen. I wonder if my parents, who probably caught the live version of the precious Bloodbath, can see the evil in my head. Are they disgusted with my love for the misfortune befalling our district's own tribute? Are they watching my reactions, knowing full and well what all is going to happen on the screen before me? It occurs to me that Sampson's not around, and while I'm rather glad he's not there to witness my ugly side (like he hasn't seen it before?), I raise my voice to ask of his whereabouts.

"Hey, y'all know where Samp—" I stop talking as Mikhail Ivashkov, of District 6, runs his sword through our tribute's neck. "No way!" I'm grinning like a fool, watching as Xavier falls over. Benat was so much better than him. He was so much better and he made it so much farther, just not far enough. I feel laughter bubbling up in my throat. I want to laugh because now I know that everyone in the Capitol will be looking through the recaps too, thinking about how much better that tribute from District 11 was last year. My stomach grumbles, the empty grin still on my face as I watch the screen, and I realize it's not laughter I feel coming up. I feel sick. Ripping myself from the spot on the floor where I was sitting criss-crossed in front of the TV, I bolt for the bathroom. It takes me only a few minutes to throw up the entirety of my breakfast.

Wiping my mouth, I head back into our family room. Why do I suddenly feel so ill? Am I sick because I've just watched a bunch of kids get murdered again or because I'm so full of pride for my dead brother that I wanted one of them dead? I don't even know if the answer really matters, but the question still bothers me. I think too much about things like that, things that don't really matter but still work their way into my mind. Most people wouldn't care about things like why I was happy that Xavier died. It's obvious enough, a simple, foolish idea that my brother could have been... upstaged? by a boy from our district. What if Xavier had come out a winner? The first Victor from District 11 in a long while. No one would have remembered anything about Benat, and when people stop remembering, Benat will have to die again. Afterall, you die twice—once when you’ve had your last breath, and then again when your name had been spoken for the last time. I can't lose Benat again and the latest tribute could have been the only way people would really forget him. At least until the next pair of tributes are thrown into the Games, I feel like his memory will keep on burning. The Izar family is no longer mentioned in whispers because there are two new families for that now, but it doesn't change Benat's role in the history of the Games. As of recently, he has been the most successful male tribute from District 11. Not like Xavier was hard to beat, though. Maybe that's why I could smile at murder like that, or maybe I'm just really warped about this whole idea of my brother's prestige in the Games. Maybe nobody gives a shit about my brother anyway; it's not like he won.

I don't turn off the television before I head to my room. We always leave it on anyway. It's just like background noise for the house, something to fill the silence that thickens inside sometimes. Moving to fall on my bed, I find a note left for me. A little piece of paper, one that has Sampson's scrawled writing on it that reads something about meeting him in the fields. For a few more moments, I just read over the letter, taking in what exactly it means. Is it a surprise? Should I dread this meeting or anticipate it? What is Sampson up to? All the questions that I have no answers for are useless in my mind.
I won't know anything unless I make my appearance. Gripping the note, I move out towards the living room again. The muffled noises from the kitchen tell me my parents are still working away in there. Do they know that Sampson has suddenly become one for secrets? They would have said something about it, surely. Without passing by them, I slip out the back and head towards the direction indicated on my letter. It's hard to hide the excitement from my face as I walk towards the fields.

The giddy excitement is even harder to smother when I actually arrive at the location where I was instructed to be. When I see Sampson, with his small setup for some kind of get together, my lips part in a huge smile. Another boy is seated next to him, one I don't recognize, but my grin doesn't falter for a minute. If Sampson has invited him to whatever kind of party this is, he must be alright. I can't see my brother making a bad decision when it comes to friends but, then again, I had never doubted Benat before he'd decided to ally with Elodie and Ivy. Even so, I don't dwell too much on the new boy because there's another person seated next to him that I do recognize. Asha looks stunning in a new top I've never seen on her. I wonder if she knew I'd be attending, but some part of me hopes she knows she doesn't have to impress me. I'm pretty much sold on how marvelous she is already. While digging around the idea that Asha knew I was coming, the idea of the party being held in my honor hits me like a stone. It makes a cold feeling ripple up my spine as I keep walking, keep grinning. My birthday wasn't too long ago, maybe Sampson's suddenly one for festivities. Even if it keeps the warmth of pride for my little brother burning within me, I'm suddenly concerned. Do I deserve this? The fact that it might all be in my head and Sampson is just throwing a party to have some fun is the only thing that keeps me from letting the panic set in. I could be worrying about nothing.

"Hey y'all," my words are full of sincere happiness, as I am still content to spend the night with my little brother, the girl I fancy, and a complete stranger. It's better than sitting at home.

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 15, 2024 17:39:08 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 18, 2013 16:30:20 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Jul 18, 2013 16:30:20 GMT -5

Sampson Izar

[/color]

•••

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

•••

I feel the heat rise in my chin and prickle like a scratch of thorns has come across my face. Hey, Sampson![/color] Emery booms and it’s all I can do not to look him in the face. My own eye must still show the remnants of the shiner from the other day—something I’ve refused to let anyone know, least of all my brother in preparations for what would be the best birthday ever. It would have ruined everything to have to have told him the truth that I’d been cross with Asha and things had gone too far. I know I’d get blamed, being as young and immature[/color] as I’m supposed to be. It ain’t fair, the way the world condemns me just because I’m young. I buried it deep inside—just like I’ve been accustomed to doing—and mended the fence out of sheer will that I knew Asha could provide us with something fun (and she delivered, too[/color]). I didn’t invite her because I wanted to mend no fences. That’s for damn sure[/color]. I give a smile to Emery and nod my head along with him.

Stars are really bright tonight, huh?[/color] I stare up. Benat must be helping us,[/color] I think with an even bigger grin. It’s the least he can do for Deval. I glance over at the cornbread and lick my lips. It’s been ages since we’ve had anything that tasty. Momma don’t like being too flamboyant with what we got to eat. Have to stretch what we got more without Benat helping with the harvest. I open my mouth to speak, but stop when I see Asha coming out of the corner of my eye. The edges of my smile crease downward and I continue to stare. I’ve never hated someone so much in my whole entire life, not even the girls that went and killed Benat. Maybe Ivy Soren, [/color]I think, But it’s hard to stay mad at someone that got what she deserved.[/color] Watching her skull crushed in had been a particular highlight for me. It’s too bad that Asha wasn’t the one picked for the games this year.[/color]

“S’gonna be real good, I reckon,” I say. My voice is thin. I look then at the amount of alcohol Asha’s gotten us and sniff. I grumble out a thank you.[/color] That’s as good as she deserves, anyway. Hopefully with Emery here, Deval will see what a rotten, no good little ~~whore~~ Asha is and why he shouldn’t go spending so much time with her. I chew my lip. It makes my head hurt to think that people get so much dumber when they get older. Maybe that’s the whole problem with falling for someone, your head gets all screwed up about it. I catch Emery out of the corner of my eye and give a little sigh. Because once you start thinking about someone, you spend every waking moment yearning for them to think about you, too. It would be better if I could just shut my brain off and not have to think about nobody.

I shake all the silly stuff out of my head when I see Deval. He comes moseying through the field with a grin. I wonder what’s got him all alight, and hope and pray that it’s on account of the trouble I’ve gone through for him. This could be the start of something different for us,[/color] I want to think. A shiver runs up my spine and I stand from my spot on the blanket. For a half second I forget myself, and let out a high pitched, “Deval!” with my arms up over my head. I think it’s then that I realize that for every year the two of us grow older, I’m still going to be his little brother, forever and always.[/color] We might grow old and gray, but it won’t change the fact that he’ll be big and I’ll be small. There’s something magic to this too, when my heart pitter patters and I stop just short of jumping into his arms for a hug. I don’t want to embarrass him in front of Asha, Emery, or nobody else that might be on their way into the fields. I just want him to feel special, like the good brother that he is. Remembering myself, I cross my arms across my chest and stare down at the ground.

The bloodbath flashes into my head for a minute and I think, no, I ain’t going to let that be the talk of the evening.[/color] I don’t care whether or not Xavier Gregory gets his head cut off or if Nightshade Bluesea goes the distance. Tonight is a celebration of our freedom. It’s us showing our resilience[/color]. We are not broken because of what the capitol took from us. We have been stronger. We’ve grown and we’ve seen—we’ve become older and stronger even though it’s hurt. And tonight I get to celebrate my brother for everything he’s been. I look up at his face with a smile and make a motion to the little feast that’s been accumulating on the blanket.

“We all got together and I thought—I just thought that,” I look back at Asha and Emery, and then to Deval. “On account of it being… your birthday, and this year…” I’m no good with speaking in front of people and it shows. My voice is soft and I wonder if he can hear me over the thumping in my head. “That we got a lot to celebrate. Even if we had a lot to go through to get here.” I lean forward, and in another second I move to wrap my arms around him. I turn my mouth to his left ear and whisper so only he can hear. “Thank you, too.”

I pull back and look back at my hands. “If that’s all right… celebrating… and all…”

•••

Are you beginning to get my point
That all this fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

[/color]

•••

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

Raseri
Career Tribute

552 POSTS
last seen Dec 5, 2023 15:35:48 GMT -5

mayor of bootyville

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 19, 2013 9:19:11 GMT -5

Post by Raseri on Jul 19, 2013 9:19:11 GMT -5

After she’d socked Sampson in the eye back at the water hole, I hadn’t even considered that he might be inviting Asha to this little shindig, too. But maybe getting that nasty shiner just wasn’t as important to him as getting that booze, because there she was, looking gorgeous in some kind of fancy shirt with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. I feel a smile spread onto my cheeks. I wonder if she’d known I was coming, and if she’s dressed all fancy like this for me. Ever since that day I’d met her in the tree, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, and how much I wanted to see her again. I’d even lie awake at night sometimes, just thinking about her, wondering if she was thinking about me too. After my shifts in the fields, when I had free time before I had to get home for supper, I always thought about going to ask her if she wanted to do something with me, like go for a walk or climb another tree, but for some reason, I would end up chickening out every time.

Even though I’m a little wary of how the evening will turn out with Asha and Sampson together, I’m glad she’s here. This party seems to be getting better and better. ”Hey! Asha!” I call when I see her coming, my eyes widening when I see what she’s brought to add to the potluck. Now it’s a party. I’d only had alcohol a few times, the stuff my uncle made for special occasions and holidays. It made my head swim if I drank too much, but it always felt warm in my belly on the cold new year’s eves when we got it, so I liked it. It was bad for you, I knew, but it sure made for a good time. A little bit of drinking never hurt nobody, I think. I can tell tonight is gonna be fun. Asha sits down on the blanket next to me, and something about the way she chews on her lip makes my stomach feel funny.

It’s not long before we hear more footsteps coming through the field, and soon Deval arrives, a grin on his face. I give a wave as Sampson stands up and exclaims a greeting. Since I’ve never talked to him or anything, I hope Deval won’t mind that I‘m at his party, sharing his food and all that. Really, I just want to have a good time tonight, and maybe even make another friend in the process (since you never can have too many.). I can’t wait to see what he’ll think of the present I brought him, and I hope it’s gonna help make his day, just like this party—and getting to see Asha again—has made mine already.

He really loves him, I think, when Sampson gives his little speech. He's gone through all this trouble just to make sure his brother had a nice birthday. I wish my brother and two sisters were like that, but I doubt that any of them would ever do something like this for me if put in the same position. Well, Desmond might, but that wasn’t really the same. Benat may have died, but that sure hasn’t broken the other two Izar boys; if anything, it’s probably just made them tougher. You have to be tough to keep your chin up after something like that happens. They don’t seem to be mourning what they’ve lost; instead, they are celebrating what they still have. At least, that’s what I’m picking up from all this. And that’s really something, if you think about it.

”You must be the guest of honor,” I say with a genuine smile, holding out my hand for Deval to shake. ”I’m Emery. Holbrook. It’s nice to meet you.”

Now let's get this party started, I think.

thinking, doing, hearing, ”saying,” other

[/center]

{ooc- okay so this is really bad and all over the place and it's short and I'm sorry but I just wanted to get something up before vacation}[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

"i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
i lift my lids and all is born again.
(i think i made you up inside my head.)"

zakattack
Merchant

[M:-450]

152 POSTS
last seen Dec 31, 2013 14:15:27 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 19, 2013 15:03:37 GMT -5

Post by zakattack on Jul 19, 2013 15:03:37 GMT -5

My heart was thumping so loud I couldn’t focus on the glare of Sampson or his muttered thank you as I nodded and shrugged “Its no problem Sampson…” I told him even though I knew I’d be skinned alive when I got home. Deval deserves a night of fun though.

[/i] were the words that I had been repeating to myself these past few weeks as I pulled everything together to bring to the party. He deserved this, and a beating wasn’t too bad when I knew it would make him smile. There hadn’t been a lot of smiling going on in our District this week anyway with our male tribute dead and our female soon to follow, District 11 hadn’t had much to be proud of since Benat had made the run towards the end last games…Maybe we never would have someone as brilliant as him again.

Looking up at Emery I started to ask him how he’d been, I hadn’t seen him since the day at the watering hole when I punched Sampson which meant I hadn’t left on very good terms with anyone. I hoped he wasn’t angry at me, but I just could deal with the way Sampson took it out on me. As my lips parted I went to hand him a jar of the gin thinking he might like it better than the wine wine seemed like such a girl type of drink [/i] I saw Deval making his way through the corn. If I was a mess before I was scared witless now and I reached over and popped open a jar of wine letting the sweet and yeasty almost disgusting liquid fill my mouth. Good god how could adults pay money for this![/i] Thankfully Sampson jumps up and takes over because I wasn’t sure how to react.

Only I knew I wanted to touch him, to hug him and kiss him, link my hand through his like the night on the hill.. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t decide if my feelings for either boy were real only that they both made me feel completely and utterly smitten. As a glanced between the two of them I found myself wishing I could grab them both and smash them into one person. The goodness and optimisim of Emery and the loyal and understanding side of Deval, to take bits and pieces of each and mold together someone that would tie me to the best of both worlds; but I knew that it wasn’t like that. I couldn’t have one without hurting the other. Deval understood me in ways I’d have trouble explaining to Emery, Emery just didn’t seem as jaded and broken as the two of us. Part of me wanted to let him stay that way…

Sampson’s little speech was adorable and for some reason it put a little squash on the way I wanted to throttle him. At least we had something in common with our need to make Deval happy. I could feel his eyes on me and suddenly I felt more aware that I wasn’t dressed like I normally was and my face flushed as I pulled the jar to my lips once more. The purple sip staining my lips almost like the fancy make up the tributes would wear had to make me look a bit more adult right? I could feel a warmth building in my stomach and wasn’t sure if it was the booze or the company of both Deval and Emery but as Emery stood to say his greetings to Deval I stood as well.

“Happy Birthday…”[/color] I say almost whisper as I step forward to look at him and wonder if its time to pull out the tie tack in my pocket. Chewing on my lip I give him a jar of the potato gin as well. “Hope you don’t mind this is why I’ve been so busy the past couple weeks. I wasn’t trying to ignore you or nothing…”[/color] I hadn’t been trying to avoid him at all. There was just so much to do to pull all this together and I felt bad letting Sampson take the brunt of if so I had devoted all the time I could to helping him gather things as well which meant not getting to see Deval ~~or Emery~~ as much as I would’ve liked.

As Emery suggested that we get the party started I stepped back and looked around, and held up my jar encouraging the others to do the same. A saying my father had used a couple times when he was out drinking with his friends popped into my head and I smiled, “To Deval, Lucky stars above you, sunshine on your way, many friends to love you, joy in work and play- laughter to outweigh each care, in your heart a song- and gladness waiting everywhere all your whole life long!”[/color] Tipping my drink to my lips once more I hoped he could tell that he was my lucky star.

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

Sampson
Merchant

[M:-50]

162 POSTS

last seen Sept 7, 2018 6:51:56 GMT -5

pardon me, just getting used to v5...

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 20, 2013 15:32:25 GMT -5

Post by Sampson on Jul 20, 2013 15:32:25 GMT -5

Seeing the reaction of the group, feeling the stillness of what I can only believe means they are waiting, I realize that I am the guest of honor. It brings back the similar feeling from earlier, the one that came to me after watching the District 11 male tribute perish in the Bloodbath. Wiping my hand through my hair, I swallow the lump in my throat. Sampson has worked hard for this; I can't ruin it because I don't feel like I'm deserving of such a celebration. I've no right to be anything but grateful to have such a wonderful little brother and what he has chosen to host a party for. This is a time to be respectful, thankful to have lived past another Reaping and to still have Sampson. I should be overjoyed to see him stand and hear him yell in his high pitched voice, "Deval!" with his arms over his head. I should be laughing playfully at the way he suddenly grows shy or insecure and crosses his arms to stare at the ground. I should be acknowledging my other guests with nods of approval and warm smiles of greeting, instead of just focusing on my brother. I should be doing all those things, which means I'm doing just fine. There is no trace of doubt on my features as I play the part of a completely accepting—and completely surprised—birthday boy.

Sampson looks up at me and begins some kind of explanation for the surprise party. I was just beginning to contemplate how much the idea seemed like something Benat would do and how alike Sampson suddenly seemed to him, but my little brother's fumbled words make him a person all his own. "We all got together and I thought—I just thought that," he has the heart of Benat, that's for sure, but definitely not the mouth, "On account of it being… your birthday, and this year…" Benat could speak so easily in front of crowds, laughing and joking the entire time. Sampson does his best. "That we got a lot to celebrate. Even if we had a lot to go through to get here." For some reason, that pair of sentences makes my heart heavy. We sure did go through a lot, huh, little brother? But we made it here. We sure did. I smile at him, taking him into my arms as he embraces me. Maybe it looks kind of pathetic, the way I hold onto him like if I let go he'll be gone forever, but I can't help it. I never knew Benat would be gone so fast, so who's to say Sampson will be around a lifetime? When I get the chance to hug him, it always feels like the day I gave Benat a final embrace in the Justice Building. It always feels like good-bye and sometimes I hate hugging him just because of that. Even so, the feeling never stops me and it won't stop me now. He whispers in my ear a thank you and I press my lips together. I should be thanking him. There was no way I could have gotten through it without him. Pulling away, he asks for my approval to celebrate, asks if it's alright to throw a party he's already put together, like I have the heart to say no.

"Of course it's alright," my answer carries a light laugh as I pull Sampson to me again, holding him to my side as a playfully squeeze him. He's such a dork sometimes. "I would never miss out on a good party," I grin, looking up to meet my first party guest. It also happens to be the only guest who I don't have a name for. He's tall, tan from the fields, and has facial hair the same color of the curly mess growing on his head. The boy looks older than me, but maybe it's just 'cause of the beard and the incoming mustache. What would I look like with a beard? Bet I'd look just as mature as him. The thought makes me straighten up as I take his hand. I don't need facial hair to look 16. "Nice to meet you too, Emery," I nod at him before releasing his hand, "I'm glad you could make it, as is Sampson I'm sure." I can't help but wonder where Sampson befriended this guy. He seems rather old. Without turning my head, I eye my little brother. Is this the boy that has him doing so much thinking? Sampson definitely has mature taste.

Smothering a laugh, I turn to my other guest. "Happy Birthday..." Asha whispers so quietly, I question if she's alright. Her low tone reminds me of our night on the hill, when she'd caught me talking to Benat. It was the night I had kissed her. I swallow hard. “Hope you don’t mind this is why I’ve been so busy the past couple weeks. I wasn’t trying to ignore you or nothing…” she trails off. Have I ruined the easiness that used to exist between us? She places a jar of potato gin in my free hand, my other arm now hanging on Sampson's shoulder. The sight of the alcohol sloshing around in the glass container makes me grin widely. Tonight would definitely be interesting. "He doesn't get one of these," I warn Asha as I gesture to Sampson. It's my job as his big brother to keep him from drinking, isn't it? Ruffling his hair, I tease him, "Maybe when it's your birthday." He will probably be pissed at me for suggesting he can't drink, considering he is the host, but I'm pretty sure Benat wouldn't approve of it, which means I'm not too confident about it either. Popping off the lid, I raise my jar with Asha as she makes a toast to me with some kind of saying. It's nice, but I don't really listen because I'm too busy watching her lips. Does that make me rude? I smile as she finishes, before adding, "And to Sampson, for bringing us all here." I swallow back a gulp of the sharp liquid.

Last Edit: Jul 21, 2013 19:10:10 GMT -5 by Sampson

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 15, 2024 17:39:08 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 24, 2013 0:18:13 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2013 0:18:13 GMT -5

Sampson Izar

[/color]

•••

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

•••

I let out a laugh as Deval pulls me back to his side. Of course it's alright.[/color] When wouldn’t it be all right for the two of us to celebrate? With the wounds still fresh I had a gnawing feeling Deval might not want to celebrate. That and I’m no good with my words, so I wouldn’t have even be able to explain away his fears if he had any. I like to think that if Benat were here, he’d be wrapping an arm around Deval’s neck and raising his glass in a toast. Is that too much of a trap to fall into? His words were effortless. Now we get only starlight, and it shivers through us—the heat still hot from the day, but a wind picks up and rustles my hair. I stare up, my arm around Deval’s waist. Did I do good?[/color] I ask the stars. They refuse me an answer, but I keep grinning anyhow. It’s amazing how alive you can feel in the arms of the most important person in your little world.[/color]

I ain’t even mad when Asha starts in explaining how she got the booze. It takes a lot more effort than I want to give to let her and him be together, but I grind my teeth and lick my lips. Tonight’s a ceasefire between the two of us. She gets to flounce and try her best to distract my brother—not that I ever believe for one second she could be the one to steal his heart—and I ain’t going to make no fuss about it. No sir. As long as Deval is happy, I ain’t got no reason to hem or haw. I stare over at Emery with a smile. I’ve also got someone to keep me company, even if he’s only here ‘cause I asked him to be. That he was nice enough to do that only makes my heart flutter even more. Emery seem like the type of person Deval ought to know, and to be friends with. He ought to be spending more time with the boys than letting some girl foul up his head.

I stick my tongue out when she finishes her little poem. It’s not even that I don’t like it. I liked how it rhymed, and that she wants him to be happy, too. If it came from anyone else I probably would have told them, good job.[/color] But from her it’s like my nose got a whiff of something foul, and my whole face gets screwed up. I clear my throat. It’s like she knows exactly how to crawl under my skin, in a way that I can’t explain. I don’t remember the girls Benat used to run around with, though I don’t think none of them were as awful as Asha. It takes me a minute, but I think about how Benat must have—hadn’t he been with a number of girls before his last reaping? But I can’t even imagine any of their faces. Maybe it was in my head how much of a ladykiller he was?[/color] And then I worry that Benat had to have had his first kiss, too? That he’d gone and done all those things that older boys do, and he would’ve told me (when I was old enough[/color]) what I had to do.

He doesn't get one of these.[/color] I hear Deval say it and scrunch my face again. Even now I know I’m too little to be with all of them. They’re big kids, they know more, they’ve seen more and I’m just not there yet. But I will be.[/color] I ache to be old enough to feel like them. Maybe then I’d get looked at, or understand what to do now that everything was changing. Deval understood it, didn’t he?[/color] Asha certainly did, but she was foreign—a girl, her parts were all different. It was no wonder though that she understood faster, girls were just like that.[/color] I crossed my arms across my chest and angled to make my way back to the blanket. “It’s not fair,” I mutter out with a huff. I was just going to try sneaking some later anyway.[/color]

I lay back on the blanket and stared up at the stars. “You ought to wish on the stars, Deval,” I say with a grin. “For good luck. For your birthday. For Ben—" I pause. “For what you want.” It’s then I give a turn to the corn. A shiver runs up my spin and I narrow my eyes, seeing a stalk move. Just the wind,[/color] I think. Or my eyes playing tricks on me.

•••

Are you beginning to get my point
That all this fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

[/color]

•••

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

zakattack
Merchant

[M:-450]

152 POSTS
last seen Dec 31, 2013 14:15:27 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 24, 2013 10:20:35 GMT -5

Post by zakattack on Jul 24, 2013 10:20:35 GMT -5

24.media.tumblr.com/ace08861c92178dff792513840f8df92/tumblr_mpyqhjRAmc1qicobao1_500.jpg

[/img][/center]

I guess you could say I was crashing the party. I mean technically I was but since I had found the discarded scrap of paper with the messy writing describing a shindig I figured it was my duty to come and not let the scrap fall into the wrong hands…right? The Izar family was just one I knew from the Reapings, watching their older brother get sent into the Arena and die and all that jazz; I didn’t actually know them face to face. The middle one Deval, was my age, and I’d seen him around school looking like he wanted to bust in everyone and anyone’s face who looked at him wrong. Not unlike myself.

[/i][/color] Only I had found ways to cope with my anger, he just looked like a pissed off teenager who couldn’t get his way…but parties meant fun and boys and even if it meant dealing with him I figured it might be worth it to make an appearance.

So when the date rolled around that matched up with the scribbled little note I slipped on a pair of denim overalls I had hacked up into shorts and slid into a tiny grey tube top thinking it would be best to look casual, running through corn fields wasn’t my idea of a highclass party anyway, and giving my wild hair a good shake a fluff I headed out my front door. Its not like mom could stop me, she’s tried her best to keep me on the straight and narrow, but anymore I just don’t care. They can’t hurt me if I don’t care.[/i][/color] Taking off at a spring my long gangly legs and arms make me look awkward but if it gets me there faster it is not my problem.

The small town is dark except for the occasional flicker of a candle through the windows as I move by as swift as the wind. Most the people around here haven’t been much up for anything after watching Xavier Gregory take a sword in the neck and Nightshade getting hacked at as well. For some people it gets easier watching it like me[/color] but others still can’t handle the images on screen. It’s never going to change though and in the end its still murder, but better those two than me.

The green thick leaves of the corn stalks ruffled slightly around me as I weaved through them hoping to catch a glimmer of something to take me in the right direction. Wandering around a corn field was a great way to get lost, some of the fields were so vast that even when I was high up in the trees I couldn’t see the ends of them and I certainly hoped that it didn’t lead me to the border of the District. While I was up for some trouble tonight, I didn’t want Peace Keepers involved. To my left I thought I heard the jovial laughter of someone screeching Deval’s name and make a quick turn towards the sound. Pushing aside a few of the stalks I come upon the scene of a small fire and blanket with jars of liquid, Please let it be booze, and food scattered across it.

A smiled crossed my face as I look up and see a moptop of a man, some thin grumpy looking girl, and a kid standing around Deval. ”Looks like I found the party.”[/color], I smirk holding up the crumpled paper in my hand, ”Hope you don’t mind I didn’t bring nothing…it was kinda hard to find something on short notice.”[/color] My eyes lock on the tall shaggy boy as I toss my hair over my shoulder before looking back to Deval ”I’m Dyani.”[/color]

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

zakattack
Merchant

[M:-450]

152 POSTS
last seen Dec 31, 2013 14:15:27 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 24, 2013 13:48:34 GMT -5

Post by zakattack on Jul 24, 2013 13:48:34 GMT -5

Deval looked so perfect and comfortable slung around his brother, the way they melted together into one in the darkness made a bud of jealously dig its roots deep inside me. I never had that with my siblings. Ever. My birthday was never celebrated, hardly ever acknowledged except for the 12th when I was reminded I was now eligible for the Reaping. Other than that my day of birth was a filthy reminder to my Ma that I wasn’t hers and that Pa had been unfaithful. Deval’s laugh brings me back to the moment we were in and I couldn’t help but smile back at him even though my heart was crushing inside of me. Between the jealous and confusion I wasn’t sure what to do so I took another sip as a fuzzy haze began to slip over me. Deval said Sampson wasn’t allowed to have any of the pilfered liquor and I was secretly glad, the little shit didn’t really deserve any anways

[/i] , and I nodded giving Sampson a “sympathetic” look. “Sorry, its his party what he says goes.”[/color] the words sounded sad coming out but deep inside I was dancing around like a maniac.

The toast falls from my mouth and when I look back to Deval I flush at the site of him watching me. Did I sound stupid? Did he hate my toast?[/i] He pulls back a draught of the gin and I want to lean over and kiss the taste from his lips but I don’t as Sampson huffs off muttering how it isn’t fair that he can’t drink as well. I hear him flop down on the blanket behind me and wonder why he doesn’t just take a jar from the reminder in front of him. Turning to tell him that he shouldn’t I suddenly see the corn move and out pops a girl with wild hair and little clothes that I can’t name. She’s not someone I recognize from around school, but more often than not I’m lost in my own little world. As she saunters over I feel my lips pull into a scowl as she passes me up and stands in front of Deval like a cat eyeing a mouse.

He couldn’t like a girl like that. Could he?. Forcing a smile to my face I move into the empty spot where Sampson was next to Deval. “This is a private party.”[/color] weather it’s the booze or the anger at this girl for looking at Deval like that I’m not sure but I didn’t want her to complicate things worse than they already were. Suddenly I realize it’s not just Deval she is eyeing, its Emery as well and I just don’t know how to feel. They are mine, but they’re not, neither has asked me to be their girlfriend…we’re all just friends…but somehow I know it’s more than that. I just don’t know what.

Fighting the urge to reach down and pull Deval away hand in hand I instead push up on my tip toes and whisper into his ear, “I have a present for you, but I’m not sure if I want everyone to see it.”[/color] Sure it was just a tie tack in my pocket, but the rest of it … well that was more private if I could even work up the nerve to do it [/i]. My eyes darted to the cornfield hoping he’d pick up on the privacy I was craving.

With shaking hands I slip off into the darkness praying that Deval will follow and that Emery doesn’t get mad...

(OOC-I'm sorry for back to back posting I just wanted to get Dyani in before it got too far into the thread, next time I will wait to post them so they're not back to back. I'm really sorry.)

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

Last Edit: Jul 24, 2013 14:04:47 GMT -5 by zakattack

Sampson
Merchant

[M:-50]

162 POSTS

last seen Sept 7, 2018 6:51:56 GMT -5

pardon me, just getting used to v5...

Children of the corn [Plot] Jul 31, 2013 0:46:58 GMT -5

Post by Sampson on Jul 31, 2013 0:46:58 GMT -5

Upon my request that Sampson receive none of the little jars weighted with alcohol, my brother pulls away from me. He's upset, I know, but he'll thank me later. 12 is just too young, isn't it? Then again, he can get pulled into the Games at twelves years young, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I let him drink. Old enough to head into the arena, old enough to have a few gulps of booze. “It’s not fair,” he grumbles as he lays back on the blanket to look up at the stars. My stomach drops for a moment. Is he looking up at the stars because he thinks Benat would have let him drink? Is he... wishing he was here.... over me? The thoughts make my head spin as I let the ache in my gut work its way out of my system. “You ought to wish on the stars, Deval. For good luck. For your birthday. For Ben—" The pause allows me time to swallow. He is thinking about Benat, afterall. “For what you want.” I push back my hair, wiping the sweat from my forehead, and crack a smile in his direction. Just because he's thinking about Benat doesn't mean he wants him over me. It's my party anyway, not Benat's, and it was all Sampson's idea. I'm fine. It's ok. I tip back the jar to my lips and down the rest of the liquor, just for safe measure.

“I'll send a few wishes his way,” my reply is kind of a lie, but not in a bad way. It's just that I've already whispered a few desires to Benat, to the stars. There wasn't much that I asked for, considering I feel like I've had the world at my fingertips lately, but I did ask to for the Izar name to stay buried deep in the Reaping bowls. I don't want to ever hear our names being called to the stage. If wishing gives me some kind of false control over that outcome, I'll whisper to the stars until I'm blue in the face.
Turning towards Asha, the sight of a new person entering the clearing makes me stop. It's a new girl, one with dark hair and lanky limbs. By the way she explains her presence and beams with confidence as she says "I'm Dyani," I feel she has to know one of us. My eyes shift to Sampson.
"Another party guest?" the grin on my face is mockingly accusing, like this girl might be a special friend to my brother. Whether it's Emery he's into, or this stranger Dyani, I don't mind either way. Asha moves to join my side and mutters something about the party being private, causing me to give her an odd look. Normally, I'd be just as short with a stranger, but this night is supposed to be fun. Besides, the more the merrier.
"She has an invitation," I reply, before turning back to Dyani. "Welcome to the fun," I give a small bow to her, as if to compliment her spunky zeal. Maybe it's the alcohol that's making me so light-hearted. She'll either make for a great party guest or manage to put her foot in her mouth. For her sake, I hope she just enjoys the group. I'm about ready to tease Sampson some about our latest new arrival, but Asha's voice lures me away.

Listening to her, feeling her lips so close to my ear, the words are soothing. I feel heat in my stomach, but maybe that's from what used to be in the now-empty jar in my hands. "I have a present for you, but I’m not sure if I want everyone to see it," Asha explains with a soft voice. Her breath smells like mine, like the alcohol she brought. Her eyes shift to the cornfield, taking mine with them. For a moment, fear erupts like ice in my veins. Did I just see...? No. I'm quick to stamp out any thoughts, focusing on Asha's form as she retreats into the corn and her hands slip away from me. I don't smell the sweetness of the liquor on her breath in the air anymore. I want it back. Would it be rude to slip away from my party for a few quick moments with Asha? I won't be gone for too long. Besides, Sampson has other guests to keep him company.

Quickly swapping my empty jar for a full one, my feet carry me after her.

Raseri
Career Tribute

552 POSTS
last seen Dec 5, 2023 15:35:48 GMT -5

mayor of bootyville

Children of the corn [Plot] Aug 4, 2013 12:10:26 GMT -5

Post by Raseri on Aug 4, 2013 12:10:26 GMT -5

I hadn’t noticed how intensely I’d been staring at Asha until she’d passed me a jar of the potato gin, pulling me out of some kind of trance. Color flushed into my cheeks as I quickly busied my eyes with the jar instead, turning the glass in my hands to examine the clear liquid inside. I’d been thinking about whether or not I could get her to run off with me into the corn field for just a moment or two, trying to decide if it was really a good idea in the first place, or if everyone else would think it was rude since I was supposed to be here for Deval, not Asha. Of course, there was always the chance she’d say no anyways. Popping the lid off the jar in my hands, I tried not to wrinkle my nose when I got a good whiff of its contents; it smelled like the same stuff Aunt Susan used to dab on our poison ivy rashes. Won’t be too hard to get pissed drinkin’ this stuff, I thought. Maybe that was all part of the fun.

Raising my jar with Asha’s, I listen as she gives some kind of catchy, rhymey speech, wondering if she’d written that herself. I’d never been too good at writing things like that, but I was sure Asha could probably do it; she seemed pretty smart. Then again, I reflect, girls usually are better at that kind of thing. Tipping the gin in my hand to my lips, I force the nasty taste of it down my throat, swallowing a good-sized gulp of it. I’d never had anything this strong straight from the container before, since Uncle Gabe usually mixed his gin with something fruity before he drank it down. I’m debating whether or not I should sit back down to keep from swaying when I hear Sampson huff that it’s not fair he doesn’t get to try any alcohol. It’s probably for the best since he’s still pretty young, but I do feel kinda bad for him, since he’d been the one to put this whole shindig together, after all. Maybe I’ll slip him a little sip or two when they’re not lookin’, I think with a smirk, plopping down next to him on the blanket.

I’m not entirely sure that it’s not the booze talking when I see the corn rustle until a girl steps into view, flipping a wild mop of brown hair over her shoulder and introducing herself as Dyani. She seems familiar somehow, and I decide I’d probably seen her at school before, although I’ve never spoken to her. If Sampson invited her, it probably means she’s nice enough. She’s not bad-looking, and I know the girl’s eyeing me, I can tell that, but that makes me feel a little stranger than it ever would under different circumstances. Asha isn’t my girlfriend, not really, but I still feel like I’m close enough to it to feel a sort of loyalty towards her, like I shouldn’t flirt with other girls around her. That would make me feel kinda guilty, in a way, I guess. Like talking behind a best friend’s back.

Good and bad greetings are exchanged, and next thing I know, Asha’s leaning in real close to Deval and whispering something I can’t hear. My stomach does a turn, but I can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the way her lips are right next to his ear. He’s out-drank me already, I notice as he grabs another jar. Watching them slip out of sight and into the corn, I squirm a little in my seat on the blanket. ”Nice to meet you, Dyani. Come join the fun,” I greet the girl, but the words sound automatic and empty, like I’m playing back a recording from some distant part of my mind that’s not thinking about where Asha’s taking Deval. It’s probably nothing, I tell myself, it’s all in my head… but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling in my gut. I drink another gulp of the stuff in the jar and hand what remains of it—only about an inch—to Sampson, putting a finger to my lips. ”Shh—here. Just… don’t drink it too fast. No one’s gonna nark. Right?” I check, looking up at Dyani.

Grabbing another jar, I unscrew the lid and take a little sip, nodding towards the spot I’d last seen Deval and Asha. ”What’s up with them, eh? Do we smell bad or something?” I ask Sampson in a low voice and a half-laugh that I mean to sound joking, but it probably ends up sounding anything but. Stop worrying about nothing, I tell myself, She’s not even yours, but I know I’ve always been a guy with a one-track mind, so it’s gonna be easier said than done to pull my thoughts away from Asha and towards the party, Sampson, and Dyani. ”So how you been?” I ask the boy beside me, trying to strike up a conversation.

thinking, doing, hearing, ”saying,” other

{ooc- ~~underage drinking ftw~~}

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

Last Edit: Aug 4, 2013 12:13:10 GMT -5 by Raseri

"i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
i lift my lids and all is born again.
(i think i made you up inside my head.)"

Deleted

0 POSTS
last seen Nov 15, 2024 17:39:08 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Aug 4, 2013 22:46:36 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Aug 4, 2013 22:46:36 GMT -5

Sampson Izar

[/color]

•••

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

•••

I’ll send a few wishes his way.[/color] I bring my hands up behind my head and smile. People talk a lot about strength, and we get to see it in the games all the time. There’s the kind where people do things out of love for one another, things bigger’n you’d expect from the littlest bodies. Here and now I like to think that it’s the kind of love we got that’s the strongest. Brother to brother—ain’t nothing better’n that. You can pull apart boys and girls with their love, it flakes apart like the rotting bits of wood on our porch. I see it in our district all the time, with all the broken up families we got. I scratch my head and think about Benat, if just for a second, and what he’d taught to me. Agape. The word is a whisper on my lips and sits still on my own heart. We got agape, a great, deep, unending love for one another that brings us together, stars and all. And I won’t ever be fulfilled until I see Deval, Momma, and Poppa happy forever. That makes me stronger’n I am, bigger’n the small little body I am.

I peer at Dyani as she enters, a guest unfamiliar and wild. But the mood is full and that another wants to celebrate my brother for who he is makes me want to welcome her onto the blanket. “The more the merrier,” I mutter. She can’t be no worse than Asha[/color]. A part of me wants to jump up and follow her and Deval into the corn, but before I can decide, Emory’s voice perks up. I feel my cheeks flush when he asks me how I’ve been. I wish I could be bold enough to say that I was happier that he was around, and that he made it extra special just by being there. Instead I kneel forward and wrap my arms around my knees. I chew my lips and look over at Emory, all big and handsome, asking me[/color] how I[/color] am. I clear my throat and give a nod, as though that’s supposed to be some sort of answer. He moves to off the liquor to me in a quiet voice and I stare, unsure of what to do. Deval wouldn't think I was old enough... but Benat, he'd probably let me try a taste, wouldn't he? Or am I imagining things in my head again?

“The summer’s gone too soon.” I admit to him before taking the offering. I take a long drink and make a face. It burns like fire down my throat and clears my nose out. I let out a sigh, my head swimming. We’re a lot different now than a year ago, ain’t we? When I thought of us, that word was singular. Just the Izars, just three boys living in a room out on a farm in the middle of nowhere. And though we got into scraps and scraps, we were just a stalk of corn, growing up and toward the sky. But now I don’t think that way at all.[/color] “Just feels like the games started, but the heat’s going away soon. Grown a full inch, too. Maybe I might even be as tall as you soon.” We’re not just a scrap of corn growing up, not at all. We’re a lake, deep and wide. Asha holding hands with Deval is a ripple in that lake. Me staring at Emory another. This little party is all our ripples swirling together. It’s all connected that way, making sure we don’t never forget that one little thing we do is going to influence something out, from the center of the lake all the way out to the shore.

He mentions Asha and Deval’s leaving, and I crinkle my nose. I don’t know how he feels about her, but I could bet that Asha’s been the type of girl to show him attention if she were offered it. It’s another reason why she’s no good for Deval, who gives attention to those that need it more’n others. He don’t need no broken girl to take him away from what he should be focusing on. “I don’t know, Asha’s always running off… probably making trouble… I think she likes that,” I snip out as though she’s left a bad taste in my mouth. I rub my hands against my legs. The stalks of corn move and I wonder again if it’s the wind, my imagination, or something else. I move to take a bite of one of the treats and give a grin. Emory and sweets can at least stall me from slipping into a mood.

•••

Are you beginning to get my point
That all this fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

[/color]

•••

ooc- totally missed the booze offering the first time I read it, lol... also, figured i'd throw in rum tum (and cici will throw in freya) pronto! :D
[/blockquote][/size][/justify]

Last Edit: Aug 4, 2013 22:59:40 GMT -5 by Deleted

zakattack
Merchant

[M:-450]

152 POSTS
last seen Dec 31, 2013 14:15:27 GMT -5

Children of the corn [Plot] Aug 5, 2013 14:27:34 GMT -5

Post by zakattack on Aug 5, 2013 14:27:34 GMT -5

24.media.tumblr.com/ace08861c92178dff792513840f8df92/tumblr_mpyqhjRAmc1qicobao1_500.jpg

[/img][/center]

Part of me figured that just by showing up I’d be chased off and I had clung to the scrap of paper like it was a life preserver in a thrashing sea. I wanted someone to let me join them, if only for the night. And even if I was upsetting the scruffy wisp of a girl who seemed to want to stake out both the eye candy as her own I didn’t care. Sharing is caring girlfriend.

[/i][/color] My eyes flared as she tried to push me out, stepping closer to Deval and telling me it was a “Private Party” but thankfully everyone else stepped in as I waved the invitation in front of her face. ”No one else seems to mind me here.”[/color], I chuckle as she merges herself closer to Deval. If the girl wants to play games she hasn’t seen anything yet.

Looking back over my shoulder again I notice the moptopped boy staring at the girl. well color me amused[/color] He doesn’t see what is clear in front of my face. This little bitch has them both played like a fiddle. With a laugh I flip my hair and make my way to the blanket and plop down next to the smaller boy and the good looking one as he welcomes me to the party. His voice sounds forced as his eyes don’t leave the disappearing figures of the other girl and Deval slipping away into the corn. I bet you’ll be joining me later big boy Shaking my head I reach over for a jar of rich purple wine. ”You didn’t tell me your name…I think its one I might want to remember. ”[/color] I tease as I take a swallow and make a face. Its so bitter but I know I’ll be drunk soon. I watch the older boy hand the left over liquor from his jar to the kid next to him and I chuckle. ”Why don’t you just take a jar, I ain’t gonna tell no one.”[/color] I push over a purple jar to him and smile.

There’s something about the chemistry between this rag tag group that seems as if they’re kindling waiting for a match. Something is going to set off the fire and hopefully its me. Scooting a bit closer to the older boy, what is he 20 and hanging out with a kid…The little boy takes the offered drink from the other boy before rambling about the summer and growing up and I want to laugh at him but instead I nod along as if I’m agreeing with everything he says. Then he snarks out about the other girl, Asha, and I nearly spit wine through my nose. ”You ain’t liking that girl much are ya? She seems a little rude if you ask me...though we were all gonna be friends but then she starting clinging on Deval like he was her boyfriend or something. Bet they’re out there kissin’…maybe more. ”[/color]

Quickly I turn my eyes to the other boy and sigh. ”Hope it ain’t makin’ ya jealous none. She doesn’t seem like the type who’d want to be doin’ anything fun anyway. I like to have fun, right kid?”[/color] I take another deep drink and smile at the little boy before leaning back on my hands and eyeing the pair of boys in front of me. ”You ever kissed anyone kid? It ain’t too bad.”[/color] I let my eyes linger on the older one a moment too long before drinking another swallow and giving a sigh as I feel the booze flowing through my veins. ”Maybe if you’re lucky you might even get your first one tonight...I told a couple friends to meet me out here, one of ‘ems got a sister probably ‘bout your age.”[/color]

Sure it was a lie but I didn’t want to make the boy feel out of place if I snuck off with his friend. It was his party after all and he didn’t seem too young as to want to kiss someone, specially a pretty girl. Hopefully the older boy would get the hint and I wouldn’t have to be too pushy. Though its not like a boy would ever say no to a few stolen kisses, right?

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