trespassing in no man's land || {Meghan}
Dec 6, 2015 11:51:12 GMT -5
Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Dec 6, 2015 11:51:12 GMT -5
[googlefont="Architects Daughter"]
Keyser Summit
When will this all end, the exile that I have forced myself to endure for such a long time? I don’t even know how long I have been gone for...eight...maybe ten…eleven years? Time is just a luxury but lately, I have been craving it. I need more time. More time to live, more time to find somewhere to settle…find people to settle with. But I can’t. I am not the person to ’settle down.’ I don’t have a concept of time. I am just one man by himself, playing the world like a deck of cards. My past is just a distant memory and I am ready to create my own history; something for the world to remember.
But that history won’t begin here…in District Nine…Eight…I don’t even know where I am but for sure I am not staying in this slum.
Surrounded by fields of crops, I am for sure in one of the lower Districts, most likely Ten. Dotted across the perimeter of the many fields are trees filled with winter fruits. Despite being swamped with wooden fortresses, this is definitely not home. I have never gone back to Seven since I hopped that fence. What is the point? I left there for a good reason, my family won’t mind me not paying a visit; they probably think I am dead. With the words I have heard flutter through the forest, they’ll have a lot more to worry about; seeing as one of our own was taken in the games. It’s a good thing they were.
Having a cull on the Summit family will help keep the numbers down. My siblings and cousins are reproducing far too often. I wouldn’t mind a quell where they just reaped Summits, we have enough children to suffice the Capitol’s needs. Those games will likely be the first I pay attention too, just so I can laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
Trudging through the damp soil, frustration would consume me as mud begins to paint itself on my boots. And I only just cleaned them.
My food supply is dwindling and I need to fill it before winter consumes the resources in the Districts. District Ten seems to be the best bet to grab a few things.
Approaching a farm, I can see nobody out on the fields. A small stone thatched cottage sits in the middle of various crop fields. Wheat, winter vegetables and what seems to be an orchard are dotted around it. Flickering through the glass window, a fire pumps out smoke through the bricked chimney which lives on the roof. Ooh, how I’d love to be keeping warm by that fire. An old welcoming aroma fills my nostrils, burning wood. Despite disliking my home, there are still the few odd things that I crave, be it the sweet scent of burning ash.
Calling my name, the orchard seems the best bet to retrieve some foods. Stepping into the bustle of trees carefully, I’d trot down the rows, identifying them to be pear trees. Perfect. Pulling the black bag from my shoulder, I’d un-zip it before filling it with the best pears. Saving the purest one I’d bite into it. As the juice runs down my throat, I’d drop the bag besides my feet and relish the taste. Oh how I have missed the taste of fruit.
”Ough!” Darting through the gap of the trees, a pitchfork just misses piercing my eyes. Pulling my face back, I am met by a much older man through the trees as he keeps the weapon in hand. ”What are you doing?” Jumping through a gap, the man lands directly in front of me; nearly taking me out with the fork again.
Continuing the chew the piece of pear, I’d swallow it before replying to the older smaller man. ”Just taking my fair share of food.” Disgruntled, the man would jab the fork towards me again, his face resembling the tomatoes that are in the field opposite us.
”Not from here you are not! Who even are you?” Taking another bite of the pear, I’d eye the bag that lies behind the man, quickly planning my get-away. ”Nobody for you to worry about. I am not from here, so I’d best be off.” Quickly stepping behind the man, I’d grab the opened by and pull it to my chest.
”You’re not from Eleven are you?” Zipping up the bag,I’d eye the man as he follows me with the fork to my face. ”I did just say I am not from here,” Grabbing a prong on the fork, I’d push it down from my face. ”You could poke somebody’s eye out with that you know.” Pulling the bag back onto my shoulders, I’d begin to walk away slowly. ”Give me that bag!”
Following me as I commenced with my get-away the man had drawn the line with my personal space, as he grabs me by the shoulder. With the pitchfork being left behind where we once stood, it was the best chance for me to thank the man for his hospitality. Spinning around as he dragged me back, I’d send the back of my hand to his face. The force of the hit would send the frail old man to the ground. ”The only bag you need sir, is a body bag.”
Forcing myself into a full-speed pelt, I’d run across the crop fields, squishing the tomatoes as I do. The sound of shouting men would follow me as it seems others have discovered the poor old man on the ground. I need to get out of Eleven quickly. Fortunately, I only ventured to the farm closest to the fence line so was back at the perimeter in a matter of minutes. Popping through the hole that I had entered, I’d be back into limbo…back in the safe zone.
Getting as far away from the fence as I could, it seemed the army of white was patrolling the area. Shit. Jumping into the nearest shrub, I’d take shelter in the leaves, hoping the peacekeepers are blind to my location.