push my buttons {quadrys/atticus}
Jan 31, 2016 19:37:00 GMT -5
Post by mat on Jan 31, 2016 19:37:00 GMT -5
[googlefont="Calligraffitti:400"]
[presto]  [/presto] |
Atticus Manor Since the day I've entered this damn hell hole, I've been afraid. Crazy looking people, crazy looking tributes. Twenty-three people, and one of them is going to kill me. I can feel it. Not a mutt, not starvation, but a fellow human will be the death of me. And ever since Atticus Manor rang out of that man's voice, every breath I've taken, I've cherished it. The girl who volunteered, Danny, was okay on the train. I still don't imagine myself making friends in the games. After all, everyone is only looking out for themselves. For the first day training in the centre, I was completely alone. I didn't try and make conversation, but I did try and learn skills. Right now, I'm just trying to make my story a good read. Nobody will be bothered to read a story filled with monotony. Every step I take, I remember why I took it. To avoid my opponents, to move on after figuring out that what I had tried, I would never get good at. To avoid the pathetic people that put me here. Now that I'm a tribute, a name known throughout the Capitol, I've been given their permission to breathe in their same air. Considering the arenas are fake, it's the last real taste of life I'll ever have. And that's quite disappointing considering how pathetic this place is. It didn't take me that long to figure out how the elevator works. The poor family I was born into had the wealth of intelligence. My parents were both very good at figuring things out and solving puzzles. But unfortunately, my family has shy personalities, making me a shy person. Our ancestors are truly what made us unsuccessful. My father told me as a kid that we were thinkers, not doers. We bring ideas, but the wealthy families are the ones that take them and publicize them before we even get the chance to. They force us to hide in poverty while they become exposed into the world of inventions. My parents are factory workers, and I can't exactly say I'm proud of that. The door shifts open into sparkling white. This whole city is so clean, so perfect. If people in District Three saw this, they'd probably laugh their heads off. I step in, hoping that there's nobody hiding in the corners. I'm not a people person, but I can assume how people think. The small, quiet, introverted people are most likely to be targeted if their personalities and appearances become known to the bigger people. And as I look for the button to press to go to the third floor, I realize I'm the introverted type. I see the number three and start to click it, hoping that nobody else makes a last minute entry into the elevator. made by ghosty |
