Misinterpretation {Kousei/Charade/Cato}
Sept 24, 2014 10:45:54 GMT -5
Post by d9 kristof parks {ems} on Sept 24, 2014 10:45:54 GMT -5
Esme Truus
District Ten
There's a hero if you look inside your heart
It's always been on my mind. How does anyone other than the careers win the games? I just don't see how it's possible. They are brutal, bloodthirsty, and natural killers. They've obviously trained far longer than I ever thought possible. Some of them have probably been training as long as I've been alive as they waited for this day, but as I look around at all the other districts with at least one victor, it makes me smile slightly. It told me, although I may be from district ten, I still had a chance of winning. Maybe I can do well with my size and hide from the older tributes, but in the end they could still find me. It's not good odds of returning home alive, and I have already accepted death. Pa always said to expect the worse outcome cause it won't be that big of a let down, but dying was the end. Nothing happened afterwards. It's the end of a story.
As I stand in the training center looking around at all the other tributes, I can't help the lump that has formed in my throat making it hard to breathe. Watching the other train isn't something I ever wanted. If I could ask for a chance to return home, I would take that chance as fast as I possibly could, but the only way for anyone to go home after the games was to kill someone, and I'm definitely not a killer. I'm a farmer not a murderer. I slaughter animals not human beings like myself. I'm not an animal, yet the Capitol must think I am because they want me to kill. They want me to train with weapons I've never dreamt of laying eyes on. These foreign objects don't belong in my hands, but in a few days I'll hold onto one prepared to attack, prepared to kill, but the truth is , I'll never be ready to kill.
Yet as the Capitol wants me to, I stand in the training center in front of the knife throwing station holding a knife awkwardly. I stand in front of the dummy wondering how to properly throw this thing. And I know hesitation would only get me killed. I look over at the trainer hoping he can help me, but there wasn't anything in the world that would help me now. Not when I'm looking in the eyes of killers. So I tossed the knife towards the dummy, but I'm far from the target. It flies way towards the left missing the target by at least three yards, and the small amount of hope I have inside me went away. I have no chance of winning, no chance of returning home. The box was starting to look more pleasing with each passing second. If only I could make my parents proud, the death wouldn't be so bad.
Because there was no denying it....
As I stand in the training center looking around at all the other tributes, I can't help the lump that has formed in my throat making it hard to breathe. Watching the other train isn't something I ever wanted. If I could ask for a chance to return home, I would take that chance as fast as I possibly could, but the only way for anyone to go home after the games was to kill someone, and I'm definitely not a killer. I'm a farmer not a murderer. I slaughter animals not human beings like myself. I'm not an animal, yet the Capitol must think I am because they want me to kill. They want me to train with weapons I've never dreamt of laying eyes on. These foreign objects don't belong in my hands, but in a few days I'll hold onto one prepared to attack, prepared to kill, but the truth is , I'll never be ready to kill.
Yet as the Capitol wants me to, I stand in the training center in front of the knife throwing station holding a knife awkwardly. I stand in front of the dummy wondering how to properly throw this thing. And I know hesitation would only get me killed. I look over at the trainer hoping he can help me, but there wasn't anything in the world that would help me now. Not when I'm looking in the eyes of killers. So I tossed the knife towards the dummy, but I'm far from the target. It flies way towards the left missing the target by at least three yards, and the small amount of hope I have inside me went away. I have no chance of winning, no chance of returning home. The box was starting to look more pleasing with each passing second. If only I could make my parents proud, the death wouldn't be so bad.
Because there was no denying it....
Notes