the harsh reality {millionarrows}

D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]
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the harsh reality {millionarrows} Nov 5, 2014 11:55:15 GMT -5

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Nov 5, 2014 11:55:15 GMT -5

PETRA VIPOINTE

❝Think twice before you speak because your words and influence will plant the seed of success of failure in the mind of another.❞

Each step I took on the uneven, shabby and dirty path was cold. I could feel it through the thin canvas on the bottom of my foot. The sun attempted to hug me like a distant relative who hasn't seen me for years. I ignore it, raising my hand to block the light which the relative gave off. I looked around. I could see a tall oak tree littered with ivy and moss sinking into its once vibrant trunk. It now just stares at the world from its position, occasionally feeling the odd breeze and burst of sunlight when the ash clouds were not in the way.

As soon as I enter the seam, I feel warm. Everyone goes on about the awful conditions in which we live, but I can't help but love the place and area I call home. The warmth hits me like a gust of wind making an effort to blow me over. I can hear voices around me, some echoing in the vast azure sky, surrounding me. I begin to move slowly over to a rotting bench. I run my frail hand on the seat, closing my eyes as I do so. I imagine what it has been through, how many people have sat on it, who and what. Even the slightest thing can evoke thousands of thoughts to run through my head. I open my eyes, leaving the security of my imagination and returning to the world in which I am vulnerable. I sit on the bench and relax, watching the world pass me by.

It isn't long before I get distracted by something. This time it was a loose thread hanging from the bottom of my dress. It was smooth and soft to my touch. I'd wrap my fingers up in it, tangling the thread around and around until my fingers were bursting red and I feared for their lives. I pulled it from my dress, snapping it off with a quick and sharp yank. Of course, this wouldn't solve my problem. It'd still be in my hands, just waiting for my fingers to start playing with it, and they did. It took me a while to realise that they had, but when I did, I threw the thread on the floor. I could feel its unloved stare.

To distract myself from my first distraction, I began to hum a tune which my mother would sing whenever I couldn't sleep. It was comforting and welcoming. It had a place in heart and always will, I can guarantee it. I hum the tune so that only I can hear as I return to watching the residents and Peacekeepers roam past me, some giving me the odd look. I ignore them and continue on with my tune.

Last Edit: Nov 5, 2014 11:56:20 GMT -5 by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]

Arrows
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the harsh reality {millionarrows} Nov 5, 2014 12:51:02 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on Nov 5, 2014 12:51:02 GMT -5

Newt Paratia

The wind was a harsh and cruel whip against his skin as he continued to push with all his might. His hands were beginning to turn white as if threatening to freeze into solid ice. He bit his lip as the pain of pushing the coal and the cold of the fall winds were combining in an evil attempt at his life. With a shock he stopped biting his lips when he suddenly tasted the warm liquid metallic likeness of his blood. He wasn't sure how much longer his shaking frame could take this abuse. Then finally the wheels of the rusted coal cart he was pushing with his squad squealed to a halt. Shakily he looked up to see they had arrived at the train station and a grin stretched across his face as the final whistle blew to release him and his squad from their torture. Eagerly he obtained his meager pay check and left the station behind him.

He could see the Sun shining above him but its continuous tries to reach him were futile. He tried the best he could to wrap his arms and hands within his clothes but it was useless as well. Wind was still finding its way onto his skin through the rips all throughout his sooty outfit. He just needed to keep walking and he would be able to be home before sun down when things really froze over. Even now when it was only November it felt as though snow could bellow down from the sky at any moment. That in a blink of an eye the district would be covered in a thick white blanket of cold. A blanket he knew he would still have to work through even if it killed him. The second he thought of that he wished he hadn't. Images of when one of his squad members fell to the frozen ground killed by hypothermia swarmed his mind. His heart began to beat faster and faster as the images became more and more real. With a swift shake of his head and a few slaps to his forehead he casted the visions away and continued hiking along the long and worn over side walks of district twelve.

Eventually his feet began to falter and he had to watch out for cracks as he reached the most worn down and destroyed part of the district. The place which he has called home ever since he was brought into this world, the Seam. Even though this place was full of poor, smelly, and often sick people. It was probably the nicest grouping of people in Panem. Everyone here knows each other, respects each other, and most of all helps each other. Here in the Seam is the one place in this broken world where people who aren't related actually give a damn about others. It was a place he would forever be proud to call his home, even if he was starving.

As he walked deeper into the Seam and closer to home where he could rest his shaking and freezing bones, he passed the tree. It was an old oak everyone in the Seam knew about for it was older than the district itself. It had moss and lichens growing from its roots but that just made it even more beautiful. Every time he passed this tree it inspired him and gave him hope again. Hope that just as this tree did he could survive in this world. With a partial grin he approached the tree and gently placed a hand upon it. With a jump back he heard the humming of an elegant and lovely song and at first he thought the it was the tree. However, upon closer speculation he realized that the tune was coming from a rather lovely looking girl sitting on a nearby bench. At first he stood awkwardly listening but finally he forced himself to approach her and with a slight smile he said softly, "That is a lovely melody."

D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]

Last Edit: Nov 6, 2014 19:36:09 GMT -5 by Arrows

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the harsh reality {millionarrows} Dec 12, 2014 18:29:13 GMT -5

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Dec 12, 2014 18:29:13 GMT -5

PETRA VIPOINTE

❝Think twice before you speak because your words and influence will plant the seed of success of failure in the mind of another.❞

I notice a reasonably tall, handsome fellow leaning on the large oak tree beside me. I give him a warm smile as I continue to hum my cheery tune. He continues to watch me. I don't mind, it's nice to finally be recognised in this district for once. I sometimes feel like I'm just blending in with all the other girls my age.

As I turned away from watching the world go by and looked to the boy, he opened his mouth and threw words at me. "That is a lovely melody." I hear. The words surround me quickly, I feel suffocated and like bags of pressure are falling from the skies above on to my shoulders. Do I need to reply to him? Probably not, after all, I come here to escape from everything. But should I reply to him? Yes, I'd been raises with good manners and I would not give someone a bad impression of me. He seemed like a kind chap anyway, complementing me on my melodies were not something someone did often, in fact I don't recall anyone doing it at all.

"Thank you. It's one of my own. Music is an entirely different world for me." I hopelessly reply. Thousands of irrelevant questions thrust themselves into every nook and cranny of my brain. I try to ignore them but the urge is irresistible. Was what I said decent? What is he going to think of me? It was my first interaction with someone around my age outside of school for months, I'd gone completely blank on how to socialise.

It goes silent after my sentence. I can see him looking up and around, twiddling his foot on the dirty path my bench lies upon. I try to break the silence and open my dry lips, but nothing comes out. What a fool, I can't waste this opportunity to make a friend. I force a few extra words out of my mouth. "Do you like music, does it interest you at all?" I ask. I immediately regret it, but in the back of my mind I hope that he does take an interest. It'd be nice to have someone have something in common with me.

Whilst I wait for his reply, I sit running my hand over the various lumps and bumps my bench has to offer me. I lean back in chair and relax for a while, taking in a shaky deep breath before exhaling slowly. I glance up to the sky, noticing there is still a lot of time left in the day. Then the second silence broke.

Last Edit: Jan 13, 2015 12:16:24 GMT -5 by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]

Arrows
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the harsh reality {millionarrows} Jan 10, 2015 1:03:47 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on Jan 10, 2015 1:03:47 GMT -5

Newt Paratia

Men can only be prepared for some things in life. For example, they are taught to grow up and be able to provide for his family. To stand up tall and show their worth to the world. To give the skin off your back to keep your family out of harms way, and if it came to it die for them as well. Another thing a man is to be taught is how treat his wife right. How to always be respectful and thankful. To always be grateful they are part of your life. To always give her the best life your two hands and single soul can. Most of all you have to show them how much you truthfully love them.

These were things that Newt had learned when he was just a small lad of the seam. He knew these things as well as he knew the broken faces of every member of the seam. Which literally is all of them. Newt use to not even know more than half of them existed. However, once he started working and say them walk past every single day for so many years, he learned them all. Recognized them and would call out their names in greetings as they passed. He knew it wasn't much yet he could always tell his simple hello made them feel loved. Made them feel like they weren't such a waste of space like the Capitol made them all feel. So that was why Newt would be considered friendly, that is why he is considered the boy who gives a shit about others.

However, this question that the girl asked was one he wasn't prepared for. One that sent him reeling into the crevices and intricacies of his mind to find the answer. This girl seemed so innocent and yet she knew and could enjoy the simple natures of music. Newt had never really noticed music. Never really made time to even comprehend it. Whenever its tunes' sweet melodies licked at his ears he some how blocked them out. It wasn't exactly that Newt wanted to ignore the lovely nectar of the songs it was just well... Music seemed so childish to him. So irrelevant. Something only people with time could grasp within the shallows of their palms. This was a gift that Newt had never unwrapped. One he never really considered to exist.

With a twitch of his lips he let his eyes trail off to the broken roads of the seam. His mind still in utter turmoil at the simple question. His eyes seemed to scan across the crevices and abysses of the asphalt. Trying to bore the truth of the question out of their tiny dark zones. Wishing that the answers would fly like bats from them and fill his mind with everything he desired. Yet he knew these things could not be since they were visions of imagination. Ideas of children. Ideas he would not be a part of, could not be apart of.

Finally hanging to lift his shoulders is a weak effort Newt turned his attention back to the pretty girl. She really was pretty as he analyzed every bit of her being. Her face appeared gentle and loving with kisses of beauty traced throughout it. Her small figure was light and graceful like that of a breath taking dancer. Not like that nutjob circus victor Cricket from district two. Then most of all her voice was elegant and enchanting as though it was born from the heaven's itself.

With a subdued laugh he bit his lower lip for a moment before letting the breath he realized he was holding flow out of his body. Then taking a hand and rubbing the back of his neck with it he finally felt ready to answer her question. He wasn't sure whether she would approve of his answer but it was better than making some ridiculous lie. "You know, I have never really noticed music before. It has always been some kind of distant thing. Something only children and people with time can enjoy in." With a snap Newt brought down a thin branch from the tree and placed it between his teeth before continuing his train of thought. "Now whether it interests me. " He paused for a moment to find the right thing to say, "I don't really know. Maybe. Maybe not. If I lived a different life maybe I would." With a nod at his answer he yet again put his back against the rough bark of the old tree. Then with a long sigh he once more looked out at the never ending expanse of grey clouds.

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the harsh reality {millionarrows} Jan 13, 2015 12:35:13 GMT -5

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jan 13, 2015 12:35:13 GMT -5

PETRA VIPOINTE

❝Think twice before you speak because your words and influence will plant the seed of success of failure in the mind of another.❞

"You know, I have never really noticed music before. It has always been some kind of distant thing. Something only children and people with time can enjoy in."

I blink at his answer, looking over him in a somewhat skeptical manner. I don't really care though. The thought of music has always cascaded beyond my mind and into the whirling abyss of the world beside me.

I watch the man slowly break a twig from a low hanging branch. He places it between his lips, which confuses me. I feel my left eyebrow making a gradual journey down my forehead to create a half frown.

"Now whether it interests me."

A brief pause blocked the conversation like a row of embarrassed, orange cones. It gives me enough time to exhale and place a finger through my hair, twirling it slowly.

"I don't really know. Maybe. Maybe not. If I lived a different life maybe I would."

Different life? I'm not too sure what he means by that. I shrug it off slightly, my eyes drifting slowly up to the sky to take a mental note of the time. There is no time to dwell on what he meant by his answer, no matter how many times I'll mull it over into my head.

I can sense another silence drawing closer, so I turn my squinting eyes away from the sun and look back to him with a quirky tilt of my head. For a moment, I just stare - wondering what type of person he is. I imagine he's family orientated, and a lover of being physical. I hope he isn't interested in violence.

"How do you find our district, then?"

I ask with a polite tone. I understand many people have different opinions on the place that we call home, but sometimes listening to others can open your eyes to something you had been blind to previously.

My finger continues to run aimlessly and endlessly around in circles, tangling my hair as I wait for his response. The gentle singing of a sweet bird flies over me, landing on a nearby branch. I offer it a warm grin and blink in a friendly way at it. I open my once closed palm in hopes of drawing it closer, through my attempt is unsuccessful. It tweets once more before spreading its glorious, pale white wings and taking off. I admire it's peacefulness, and wish my mind had the same serenity that the bird does. Maybe one day I'll bump into it again.

Arrows
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the harsh reality {millionarrows} Jan 17, 2015 16:01:41 GMT -5

Post by Arrows on Jan 17, 2015 16:01:41 GMT -5

Newt Paratia

Once again this girl asked a question that could be answered in many ways. Newt could answer with casualness. Or he could answer with a rage of a million suns. Yet he had to determine which answer would suit the current situation best. For life is just like a game of chess. One wrong move and you are left vulnerable. However, one cunning and smart move and you are left leaving your opponent vulnerable.

Life is honestly just a never ending game of move and counter moves. One person reacting to another. One person trying to kill another. Oh how there was no differences. People try to believe that life is sacred and should be enjoyed to the fullest. Well those people need to wake up and take a look around. This district is shit and so it the entire damn system of Panem. A futile King sits upon his throne of hell just demanding more and more bloodshed.

So what did he, Newt Paratia, think about his district. Well that was complicated. In some aspects he loved it since it was his home and where his family lived. However, in other aspects he down right hated it. The entire district was poor beyond belief. Living conditions dropped each day and two children were guaranteed to die each year. So it sure as ripred wasn't a paradise here in District Twelve.

Yet here this girl stood commenting on music and other such nonsense. Newt could not understand her stand in the game of life. She seemed to enjoy all the little things. She seemed to be so not corrupt and full of happiness. But how? How could a girl from the seam of district twelve possibly enjoy life except for the fact they might have family and friends. Other than that this place was no better than a starving ground. However, Newt felt like if he said that she would take it very badly. So once more Newt had to make a counter move.

He twiddled the branch in his mouth as his mind tumbled on the possibility of words to say. Just choosing how to say them was one thing. But what the actual words you say are a completely other thing. All this acute details are the soul things about how you appear to people. Talk about some major bull shit.

Finally with a sigh he found a way to answer the girls unimportant question. "Well, I don't hate it. Yet, I surely don't love it either. I enjoy it only because I was born here and have family here. However, I also loath it because it is neglected by the Capitol and left to its own demise." With a sudden interest he now turned the question back on the girl, "Now, what do you think of our District then?"

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the harsh reality {millionarrows} Jan 17, 2015 17:33:42 GMT -5

Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on Jan 17, 2015 17:33:42 GMT -5

PETRA VIPOINTE

❝Think twice before you speak because your words and influence will plant the seed of success of failure in the mind of another.❞

"You know, I have never really noticed music before. It has always been some kind of distant thing. Something only children and people with time can enjoy in."

I watched as his twirled the branch around in his mouth with elegance. I could tell he was trying to think of a decent answer. Perhaps to throw me off, or maybe he just needed some time to think. It's quite a forward question. Either way, I respect that he is taking his time and I, to an extent, admire it.

I tilt my head and look up to him. He moves and exhales a sigh before opening his mouth to speak.

"Well, I don't hate it. Yet, I surely don't love it either. I enjoy it only because I was born here and have family here. However, I also loath it because it is neglected by the Capitol and left to its own demise."

Not a moment goes by before he speaks again. His sudden burst for a conversation didn't allow me to go over his answer. You can tell a lot about a person from their answer to a controversial question - but he didn't allow me to do that, meaning he wants to avoid it.

"Now, what do you think of our District then?"

I take my time to mull an answer over in my head. I won't lie about my answer. The truth is precious and should be cherished. Lying with only let you fall into a pit, catching you in a web spun full of little white lies. In my opinion, the district is home. It's a home to the good things in life, and the bad.

A minute goes by and I run a hand through my hair, swiping it out of the way of my eyes so that I can look at him. I stare deeply into his eyes and open my mouth to begin to speak.

"It's a home. To good, and to bad. Depending on whether you see the glass half full or half empty will have a major part on how you live your life."

I take a breath.

"I have to find happiness in the district because it will not hand it to me on a plate. District 12 is what you make it, so make it whatever you want."

I begin to shake my head slowly and slouch into my seat. I spoke my mind and I hope that this stranger is kind enough to accept it. Whether he agrees or disagrees isn't what matters to me.

My eyes flutter and I look away from him - breaking the eye contact. I feel as if I've connected with him. I hope that I've made him look upon our world with a new found light with hope around every corner. If I'm not going to make someone change how they see their home, no one else will.