oliver severin - d5 - fin

( P E R S O N A L I T Y )

“Oli, get back in here,” Marie’s voice rings throughout the yard as I pick up the small squirrel, a grim smile on my face as I stuff it into my bag. “You’ve been out there for nearly forever, mum says its dinner time now.” Her voice has always annoyed me, the high whining that exits her mouth as she tries to project it; my poor little sister, just a stupid little girl and all still too innocent. Around her knees is a small white dress that reflects the sunlight and as I approach her I can see the round curves of her face and her child-like hands that still carry baby-fat on them. It makes me sad that one day she’s gonna pass, no matter how annoyed she can make me, no matter how much I just wanna punch her in the face. I never would though, she’s my little sister and until she dies, it’s my job to make sure that no one hurts her.

In my bag I can feel the slight struggling of the squirrel as it tries to save itself from the imminent death that it will face. Surely I am helping it, giving it a quicker death that it would face out in the wild, a death worthy of a useless squirrel. As I walk in, I feel the rotted-wood door shut behind me with a slam as little mother shuts it. I hate this house, the way that I have to duck my head just to get in the door. It’s hardly a house, hardly anywhere suitable for a god to live.

I am a god afterall.

“Oli,” My mother pulls a hand through my hair, her frail hands bony with old age, and it makes me wonder how long she has left, if she has even a day. It doesn’t matter much, you see, everyone will eventually die. Not me though. “Dearest, could you start setting the table?” She passes me some wooden plates, decorated crudely with designs from squished berries, art projects of when Marie was a small child. I nod my head, setting my bag down besides the table with a large thump, taking the plates from my mother with a careful hand. I am afraid, every day, that somehow If I approach her she will collapse, if maybe I will kill her. Maybe I’m too strong.

Walking slowly over to the table, I place each one down at our three spots, one for Marie, one for me, and one for Mother. This is a simple day, me setting the table and Mother cooking and Marie making sure that I’m in by curfew. It’s all part of an ordinary day. As mother comes over with the pot of stew she asks me a question. “Oli, when are you going to get a job?” A disappointed expression crosses her face for a split second before she sets the dish on the table and begins to slop it onto our plates. “I..I just mean, I can’t support you and your sister for much longer.” Her hands are shaking precariously as she tries to handle the thick ladle. Reaching over I grab it and help her, anger slashing through my mind.

Ever since I had dropped out of school a few years ago, she had been bothering me to start up a job. I didn’t want to work in a power plant with cranky older men and no joy to life; I wanted something more to my name. “Mum,” I begin, not all that sure what to say to her. “I don’t want a job like that..” I’m still pouring the stew and yet I can feel her eyes on me, her hand pulled back as she assesses what I just said.

“Well, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do, Oliver.” Her tone is slightly harsher now, laced with desperation as she continues to speak to me. “We need money, we won’t be able to keep our house for much longer without some sort of income.” Her tone is raised. “You know that they’ll take everything from us, and your little sister, they’ll take her too and then they’ll make you work, no matter how much you don’t want to.” She slams a fits don unto the table, an angered expression replacing the disappointed one. Off to the side, I can see my little sister, wide-eyed and scared as she watches me and mother.

“I’ll sell my animals,” I whisper, glancing quickly off to the side room where all of my taxidermy treasures are kept. Each one is different; some are raccoons with strange patterns and beady eyes, and like the one that I will make soon, the little squirrel in my bag, the one with the blind eyes. “Look, mum, I wanna help, I just wanna make my life worthwhile, ‘kay?” I grab my plate off of the table and spin around, walking into my room and slamming the door, taking the small squirrel with me.

I didn’t speak to them the rest of the day.

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( H I S T O R Y )

I grew up like I normal child, living in a small house with tattered walls and roofs, a common up-brining for one in district 5. I was never expected to become much, only really thought that one day I night have a decent job in the power industry and maybe be able to support my family. Mum never saw me as anything more than a small child, the one that used to help her around the house and constantly stutter words such as "please" or "thank you". One day, she suddenly expected me to grow up, the day where I began to see creases on her forehead and wrinkles lining her eyes. I knew that I she was getting old, and yet, I still wanted to stay that little child forever.

I'm like one of those little children in the old timed fairytales, my life troubled and me expected to be someone that I really don't want to be. I never wanted to grow up, that's what I used to tell everyone when I was little. I was convinced, even when my birthday came and went, that my life would simply go on because I would never grow another day. I was wrong in my thinking that though and even so I so much wanted it. I had to accept that I would grow up and become the person that they all wanted me to be.

When I was about seven I found a dead animal sitting in the back yard, a small rabbit, it's eyes still open as though it had just suddenly died from seeing something. The skin around its paws was starting to rot, and so I got this crazy idea to fix it up, to take the poor thing home and make it new again. Hardly did I know what I was doing, that I could bring it back to life, in a sense, and I could make it look as though it was still going to go out looking for food. Through many procedures I was able to turn that rabbit, Alfred, into a companion that was always there for me, especially when no one else was. He was always there to keep my company and to brighten my days, and I suddenly was able to realize something. He is immortal, never able to age, and yet somehow still alive in my heart.

That's when I knew that I wanted to be like him, or at least resemble the thing that they always called a "god". I wanted to help those who had died live on forever, including myself.

Because in the end, I just, and still, can't accept that fact that I will grow old. No, I will stay young forever.

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( A P P E A R A N C E)

Overall I am quite the fairly normal looking seventeen year old male, just living a fairly normal life in district fiver with my mother and my little sister. I have pale skin, so pale, that many tell me that I look as though I am a ghost. My eyes are a teal color, not too impressive, with rings of darker blue that surround them. I wouldn't personally say that I look too much like a god, but hey, appearance isn't everything is it?

Combined with that, I have my dark hair that isn't too long but always shabby looking combined with my droopy face and large elephant ears that always look as though they are flapping in the chilly wind around me. Dark circles linger under my eyes from long nights, and chewed fingernails are the results of stress upon me in dire situations of deciding for one's life. It is difficult to rule over everyone and yet at the same time, myself. After all, If I wasn't there who would help everyone? Who would look after them? They rely on me, and my simple features, my tall height and skinny build to keep them in line, even though they do not know it yet. One day they will though, and until then, I will work on my skills to prove to them that I will save all of them.