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Knuckles
Librarian

4,983 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 14, 2024 16:08:02 GMT -5

probably flailing over something

move along {puppy|blitz} Jun 27, 2017 15:18:38 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Jun 27, 2017 15:18:38 GMT -5

Chester Meisenzahl

Rules are made to be broken.

It's the only rule I live by, and when they tell me I have to train for the hunger games, it's only a question of why? Why train when it's only going to kill me anyway? A list goes on of district seven tributes who've made it far only to fall. Sometimes it's been close, and yet the holes inside the cemetery walls only become more abundant. Soon I'll join the forces of the dead only to witness the fight of my life. But I've seen it all. Plants. Fire. Trapping. Why climb a rope when it won't do any good once inside the arena? Why lift a heavy sword when a knife works just as good?

So instead of training, I walk around knowing good and well I'll gain my horns and devil tail until I find a corner away from everyone. One day fire will consume me devouring my life. The guardian angels would only turn me away if they knew what I have done. It's not a place for me - I deserve the torture for all my sins, but only another sinner is worthy of choosing my fate.

I lean against a wall, tuck my arms behind my hand. The ground is cold, but it's nothing compared to the wet grass I've slept on back in district seven. Rain doesn't drip through the ceiling coating everything in sight. It's just a chance. A chance to rise high above everything I know. A chance to wear a crown of greatness - I tried before when the highland games were around, but then I failed. I let myself and everyone down.

This is not that time because I'm not going to fail.

Not when the devil himself is on my side.

[googlefont="Julee:400"]

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

pup
Veteran Member

3,008 POSTS

Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Sept 14, 2023 20:52:48 GMT -5

move along {puppy|blitz} Jul 3, 2017 13:15:01 GMT -5

Post by pup on Jul 3, 2017 13:15:01 GMT -5

Some of the boys and girls from the other districts don't even look like they are teenagers, they look like they have aged years and years from either the struggle in their districts or the pain of jumping onto the platform and leaving their families, saying goodbye one final time. I didn't even get to say bye to my family, my mother and father couldn't bare to bring themselves to look into my eyes and know they will never see me ever again.

The boy leaning against the wall seems like one of those tributes who have aged years and years past their actual age, his eyes reflecting the pain of being here, in a training center that trains you to be ready to die. He leans against the wall, and the number comes into my mind, 7. Numbers replace names in this training center, learning names makes it harder to kill people, and yet when I walk up to him, I ask for what will make it hard to look him in the eye and try to kill him, I ask for what makes me acknowledge him as a human, even though Patricia has been telling me I need to leave all of that behind, I just can't do it.

My legs carry me up to him, my hair seemingly on fire as it bounces behind me, and my quiet voices rings out among the swords clattering together in the background. "Hey, I'm Cam, what's your name?" I ask, I know it sounds stupid, like something a child would say, but there is nothing better to say. What could I say, Are you ready for us all to die? is a bit too dark.

Knuckles <333

^Made by the amazing Onyx^

Knuckles
Librarian

4,983 POSTS
Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 14, 2024 16:08:02 GMT -5

probably flailing over something

move along {puppy|blitz} Jul 4, 2017 16:28:10 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Jul 4, 2017 16:28:10 GMT -5

Chester Meisenzahl

Sometimes I can't help but wonder what other tributes are thinking. Knowing that twenty-three of us are going to die should scare the absolute dog shit out of me, but it doesn't. It makes me feel alive, it gives me an energy that I never thought I had. Mother and father said everyone has at least one fear, and yet I have none. I'm the one that people will bow down to once the game is over. They'll chant my name, clap each time they see me, but I am just a pawn in this show. Maybe I am afraid of dying, and it's why I enjoy tormenting people. My life may end, yet I need my legacy filled with distrust and disrespect to live on.

I want people to hate me.

I want people to fear me.

I want people to know where I come from. Many don't know my story, and I refuse to tell it. I'm just a kid sitting on the sidelines of this journey watching and waiting for the right moment. Proving my strength won't work in the future because my only hope at a decent future rests on the outcome of this game. Mother and father will soon realize they were either right or wrong. Either I join them in the afterlife, or I live on knowing just how well I did.

"Hey, I'm Cam, what's your name?"

My skin jumps, and my heart leaps into my throat. I quickly turn my gaze in the direction of her voice wondering what she wants. My name isn't important. I'm only a number the Capitol has given me. A seven pinned to my shirt, a seven pinned to my name. That's all I'll ever be is the district seven male of the seventy-sixth hunger games. Perhaps if I ignore her long enough, she'll just move along. I want to shout at her, to tell her to get out of my face;

"Chester." I sigh softly; "but soon all I'll be is the district seven male of the seventy-sixth hunger games when the rest of the world forgets my name with our gender assigned to it."

Does it even matter?

"And that's all you'll be too. Twenty-three of us will be forgotten. Just a number from a district."

That's all we'll ever be.

[googlefont="Julee:400"]