Lumine Tynn/ District Three
Dec 27, 2016 0:20:32 GMT -5
Post by moon(stone) on Dec 27, 2016 0:20:32 GMT -5
Lumine Tynn
seveteen years old
District Three
There are wires, and there are circuits, and then there is the free-flowing spark that we capture in our metals. There is the choking smog and the welders who cut through it with spraying light. All this is District Three. There is also me, Lumine Tynn, who once shocked a District official's son with a buzzer of such strength he could feel the electricity humming in his veins for weeks afterwards. I'll get to that later. Allow me to describe myself.
I am just a lanky, awkward little welder who braids her ash hair and goes to work in the evenings. I live with my mother Senti, my younger brother Inder, and my gramma Curie. Gramma Curie is a wonder. She can fix computer systems made by people who weren't even born yet when she was in her twenties. I get my height from her, though I'm a slouch because I'm always in the dark factory welders house with its low ceilings or bending over a project.
I like kicking it best, tearing through the District when my nose isn't to the grindstone- which is almost never these days. I know that when my teenage years are over, I'll have to find meaning outside of going to my friends' houses and ripping it up at little underground concerts. Or else I'll be reaped. I don't have the faintest idea what I'll do if I'm reaped, god. About three drinks in my friends and I were talking about what we'd do if we were. The general consensus was to set a fire, burn down the whole Arena, and hide out in some little fireproof shelter made with tarp or shit. My idea was to get sponsor packages, fill them with poisonous plants, fix them so it looked like they were for the other kids, and drop them from somewhere high. Maybe a tree. Definitely a tree.
Or I could try what I did on that District official's son. See, I had this MASSIVE fucking crush on him for years, and I hooked up with him at one of the underground parties my friends and I throw. It was in the factory welders' building where I work. He wasn't invited, but I didn't care. It happened in the closet where we keep our tools, and we exited all covered with soot, brushing it off each other. He kissed me, this deep, long-ass kiss, and asked me if we could you know, keep it like this. I said, "yeah, like, together?" and he said yeah. Then I found out he was hooking up with my friend and had done the SAME EXACT THING with her. It was a fucking dare from one of his idiot friends, to play us off each other and see how long he could keep it going. So I went to the electronics center where he was working (yeah, even mayor's sons have to work in District Three) and I hooked up the button that you press to call the manager to an electricity generator and messed with the wiring so it would shock him. Then I set a tiny fire at his station. He called the manager.
That was probably the best moment of my life. I crawled out of the duct with my friend, both of us laughing our asses off, and looked at him. He was standing there pathetically, his fingers singed, a little bit of his pant leg still smoking from the fire he had stamped out. I swear you could see his fingers shaking. He was so angry. He had neglected his station, and admitting that we set the fire and shocked him would admit that he hadn't been there. He couldn't do a damn thing.
I've considered hooking up with him again, but I move in different circles than he does, and, to be honest, I don't think his ass deserves me. I mean, I might be the lanky welder girl, but I'm a little bit of a legend, and I could do better.
Can I confess something?
I hope I don't get empty. I hope my spirit doesn't sort of hollow out, like I see with so many others in the District. They don't have any light in their eyes. Maybe their kids got shipped off to the Games, maybe they lost someone in a factory accident, maybe maybe maybe. It happens. I mean, my dad died because the smog clogged up his lungs so bad he couldn't breathe. I never knew him, but still.
I think it would be a lot better to die in the Games than live like that.
seveteen years old
District Three
There are wires, and there are circuits, and then there is the free-flowing spark that we capture in our metals. There is the choking smog and the welders who cut through it with spraying light. All this is District Three. There is also me, Lumine Tynn, who once shocked a District official's son with a buzzer of such strength he could feel the electricity humming in his veins for weeks afterwards. I'll get to that later. Allow me to describe myself.
I am just a lanky, awkward little welder who braids her ash hair and goes to work in the evenings. I live with my mother Senti, my younger brother Inder, and my gramma Curie. Gramma Curie is a wonder. She can fix computer systems made by people who weren't even born yet when she was in her twenties. I get my height from her, though I'm a slouch because I'm always in the dark factory welders house with its low ceilings or bending over a project.
I like kicking it best, tearing through the District when my nose isn't to the grindstone- which is almost never these days. I know that when my teenage years are over, I'll have to find meaning outside of going to my friends' houses and ripping it up at little underground concerts. Or else I'll be reaped. I don't have the faintest idea what I'll do if I'm reaped, god. About three drinks in my friends and I were talking about what we'd do if we were. The general consensus was to set a fire, burn down the whole Arena, and hide out in some little fireproof shelter made with tarp or shit. My idea was to get sponsor packages, fill them with poisonous plants, fix them so it looked like they were for the other kids, and drop them from somewhere high. Maybe a tree. Definitely a tree.
Or I could try what I did on that District official's son. See, I had this MASSIVE fucking crush on him for years, and I hooked up with him at one of the underground parties my friends and I throw. It was in the factory welders' building where I work. He wasn't invited, but I didn't care. It happened in the closet where we keep our tools, and we exited all covered with soot, brushing it off each other. He kissed me, this deep, long-ass kiss, and asked me if we could you know, keep it like this. I said, "yeah, like, together?" and he said yeah. Then I found out he was hooking up with my friend and had done the SAME EXACT THING with her. It was a fucking dare from one of his idiot friends, to play us off each other and see how long he could keep it going. So I went to the electronics center where he was working (yeah, even mayor's sons have to work in District Three) and I hooked up the button that you press to call the manager to an electricity generator and messed with the wiring so it would shock him. Then I set a tiny fire at his station. He called the manager.
That was probably the best moment of my life. I crawled out of the duct with my friend, both of us laughing our asses off, and looked at him. He was standing there pathetically, his fingers singed, a little bit of his pant leg still smoking from the fire he had stamped out. I swear you could see his fingers shaking. He was so angry. He had neglected his station, and admitting that we set the fire and shocked him would admit that he hadn't been there. He couldn't do a damn thing.
I've considered hooking up with him again, but I move in different circles than he does, and, to be honest, I don't think his ass deserves me. I mean, I might be the lanky welder girl, but I'm a little bit of a legend, and I could do better.
Can I confess something?
I hope I don't get empty. I hope my spirit doesn't sort of hollow out, like I see with so many others in the District. They don't have any light in their eyes. Maybe their kids got shipped off to the Games, maybe they lost someone in a factory accident, maybe maybe maybe. It happens. I mean, my dad died because the smog clogged up his lungs so bad he couldn't breathe. I never knew him, but still.
I think it would be a lot better to die in the Games than live like that.
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