Boardwalk Dreams [Cici]
Aug 11, 2013 10:15:11 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2013 10:15:11 GMT -5
I think you're the same as me
We see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever
We're gonna live forever
As Rum Tum is seemingly preoccupied with this little jar sort of thing he’s found, I move towards the other side of the room, exploring the remnants of this old place. [/i]I blink a couple of times, trying to adjust to the black that surrounds me, interrupted periodically by a giant flash of yellow from the sky. The wooden floor beneath me screeches with each step I take. Screech. Screech. Scr—[/i]my feet stumble, but I quickly catch myself before falling. One of the floorboards is actually sticking out the ground. I bend down curiously and lift it, reaching my hand down into a dark world I can’t see. Just like in the movies. [/i]My hand lands on something hard and big , so I grab it with both hands, pulling it out. My eyes narrow, trying to figure out what this piece of machinery is. It seems to have a lens…a video camera? I reach down and pull out what seems to be batteries and a several little blocks. Some of the blocks have labels on them like, “Summer ‘95” or “Winter ’93.”[/i] I look at the video camera; there seems to be a little compartment that could probably fit one of the blocks. I put the first one in, but suddenly light enters the floor and I glance over at Rum Tum, who has found a way to illuminate the room with the little jar, quickly stuffing the camera, batteries, and all of the little blocks into my satchel.
Here, Rum Tum probably thinks I’m an blatantly honest person, but I guess everyone has the things they just want to keep for themselves. Most of the time, there’s no filter between my thoughts and my words. Most of the time.[/i] But right now, that honesty is being overclouded by an imminent selfishness and the growing fear of sharing.[/i] I button my satchel closed and walk over to Rum Tum, who has been completely oblivious to my little detour in the last minute or two. There’s this selfish piece of me that doesn’t want to share what’s in my satchel with him. I feel like I’m in preschool again, being scolded by my teacher for not sharing the toy kitchen with Celeste Hawkins. "Sharing is caring..."[/i]
I shared everything with Kormiko, from the little goldfish that had miraculously endured through years and years of waiting to the special place full of files that were now mere ashes.[/i] And the more I shared, the more it hurt. However, I’m at the point now where it hurts to not hurt, where time has managed to numb the past enough that I feel guilty every moment that I’m not waiting for him, or rather, waiting for something that may not exist. Are you supposed to wait?[/i] Somewhere out there, in some library on some region of the earth, there must be a book about how to love correctly. Would it tell me? I wish I had someone to ask. It feels so wrong to sit here and recreate my life, but it feels so wrong not to. [/i]
My first instinct was always to share everything with Rum Tum: every thought in my head, every word out of my mouth; but I know I can’t. Even after everything he said, even after his pinky swear that he wouldn’t leave, I don’t feel like I can share anything so fully with anyone, not like I did before.[/i] How does Rum Tum do it? After losing the one person he shared his whole life with, how does he do it again? I wish I could be like those girls who spread their love so thinly across baking sheets, so that when it comes out of the oven, everyone can take a piece. Those people who can just be friends with everyone: the kind of people that have so much that one loss isn’t going to pull them down.[/i] Then again, I guess it’s pretty hard to be a people pleaser out here…
I’m a hypocrite and I know it, because here I am, too afraid to share with Rum Tum, even the mere video camera I’d found. And he’s shared so much with me: the special place that had belonged to he and his mom, his past, his food, his pinky swear.[/i] I told him to trust me; I told him he was my brother, and yet now that idea is starting to scare me – the fact that I have actual family to be responsible for. [/i]
Rum Tum says that he doesn’t know what this place is, holding the little light between us. I push my thoughts away. “We’re probably safe here though. I don’t think anyone’s been through that door in ages.” It’s funny how I haven’t thought about safety in so long. The world is so quiet out here that it’s hard to imagine anything disturbing it. And yet Rum Tum’s statement brings a wave of horrific images to my head, peacekeepers running up the stairs and prying us apart, just like that night so long ago.[/i] Rum Tum and I sit down and he puts the light between us. He keeps folding his arms and rubbing his hands together, and I can’t help but do the same, sopping wet and freezing. [/i]Then, he takes the two plates from his backpack, scoops out some beans, and sets out some spinach and berries. I can only think of how lucky I am that Rum Tum was smart enough to collect actual plates and spoons.
“Hey,” he says, “How’d you like it if I read a little bit more of the future, and some of your past!” He’s holding a deck of cards in his hands. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a thing; not such a popular pastime in the Capitol. “I may not have the same gift as my mother, but I bet I can tell you things about you with just these cards,” He says with a joking grin. Some sort of magic trick? “And maybe about your future, too!”
I move my beans around with my spoon uneasily. The word “past” turns me off right from the start. “Well that’s cheap,” I joke in between spoonfuls. “Seeing as you already know everything there is to know about me.” It’s a lie, but maybe he’ll take it. I lie down on my stomach and continue eating, silently reminding myself that sharing isn't caring: sharing is losing too much. It's just a card trick,[/i] I note. Rum Tum flicks the cards between his hands and I smile, giving in. "Alright then, show me what you've got." [/color][/justify][/blockquote][/size]