charis maisley [ d8 ] fin

Kali Seam Resident 14 POSTS last seen Dec 11, 2018 13:34:31 GMT -5	charis maisley [ d8 ] fin Dec 11, 2018 20:04:25 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Kali on Dec 11, 2018 20:04:25 GMT -5 charis maisley seventeen district eight "i am unwritten, i'm undefined."
	Last Edit: Dec 14, 2018 17:19:05 GMT -5 by Kali

Kali
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last seen Dec 11, 2018 13:34:31 GMT -5

charis maisley [ d8 ] fin Dec 12, 2018 22:18:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Kali on Dec 12, 2018 22:18:27 GMT -5

"That smoke will kill you one day Charis, you know that, right?"

"Oh, I'm counting on it, Ma."

It rolls around on my tongue, the taste of ash settling in my mouth. I let it cool and then inhale. My head buzzes with color.

I'm sprawled across the floor on my stomach, a broken pencil tucked behind my ear, another in my left hand. A layer of graphite coats the side of my palm.

The floor is a mess. Pages scattered everywhere, some crumpled, folded, spilling out of the wastebasket. I know there's a clump outside my window of the really bad ones. Pencils, pens, erasers, I think I can see a compass lying under the bed. Taped across the walls are an assortment of more sketches and fashion propaganda from the Capitol. There's a desk in the corner, the top of it very similar to floor. A cup of untouched black coffee sits on the edge.

The smell of soot and smokey tobacco fills the air. Ma hates the scent, but she tolerates it so long as I keep it confined to my room. This is my space. The rest of the house is spotless, but here, I'm free to do whatever I want. My room and the rest of the house are two completely different worlds.

I frown at the sketch I'm working on, dark lines of graphite covering the paper. The model is faceless, and the dress is unfinished. I've completed the bodice and the top of the skirt, but the bottom isn't right. The look isn't complete. The blank face I drew glares up at me, begging to be finished. But it's not right. And if something isn't right, that means the whole thing is wrong.

I get up from my place on the floor, upsetting a glass full of pencils as I do so. I don't bother to pick them up.

My fingers tingle and I take another drag from my cigarette. It's a cheap thing, rolled up by your's truly. I don't have enough money for the crisp, clean ones they have at the market. Only the merchants can afford those. Ma wishes I'd save the money I have for bread and milk and new shoelaces, but I can't live without this stuff.

My mind is a mess, all colors and shapes and words muddled together. Nothing cohesive. One after the other, rapid-fire thoughts, formulating and then fading before I really understand the meaning.

The smoke slows everything down. The pictures become sharper.

I glance out the window, and spot Ma's flowerbed on the front lawn. Yellow marigolds and little white daisies...

My eyes pop open wide. I've got it. I grind the end of my cigarette into the window sill and chuck it into the ashtray that sits on my desk.

I rush out the bedroom door, nearly bumping into my little brother, Jeremiah.

"Where you going, Charis?" he calls after me.

I barely hear him. I don't have time for his questions, not right now. Most kids hit their questioning stage when they're five or six, but Jer had to wait till he was 13 damn years old to start asking all his questions. Why this, why that? What are you doing? Where are you going? Can I help? Sometimes I have the patience for him, to sit down and hear him talk on and on and on about whatever he wants. But not always. Not when I have an idea.

I'm out the front door in seconds, scurrying across the gravel path to the garden. It's not anything fancy. Small, with three or four types of flowers. It's something Ma started working on when Jer's father left. I never really understood why. One day he left, and the next day Ma was out in the front yard with a shovel, overturning the soil. I'd tell her we don't have money for flowers, but we don't have money for my cigarettes and tobacco either, so I keep my mouth shut.

I reach down and uproot one of her marigolds. A small one, maybe she won't notice. I'm back inside in seconds and Jer's still there, standing outside my door, eyes wide and interested.

"Hey, that's Ma's flowers! She ain't gonna be too happy--"

I close the door behind me with a soft click. I need to finish this sketch.

My legs criss-cross beneath me and I sit down, pulling at the yellow petals before I'm even settled. I only need three or four. I arrange them deftly on the page in front of me, creating the skirt of the dress. The middle one I adjust slightly, add another one to the left.

There. It's done.

I lean back, scanning my work with a critical eye.

Sometimes I lie to myself. Sometimes I say, this one will be the one, this one will be perfect. But they're never perfect. My designs fall short by a mile and a half, and I'm crushed every time. It's hardest when the Games run every year, with the stylists creating the most beautiful outfits for their tributes, year after year. That's what I aspire to be. Absolute perfection.

But anything and everything my hands can create will never be good enough for me.

Of course the piece is absolute trash. My amateur fingers can't hold a candle to the style from the Capitol.

My brows knit together and I kick the petals aside. The color's all wrong, the lines are too uncertain. Something hot and angry bubbles inside me. I swipe up the sketch with my hand, crumpling it deftly between my bony fingers. It hits the wastebasket and tumbles to the side in a matter of seconds. I kick the side of my bed, and immediately regret it when my toe starts to throb in protest.

I need a smoke. Or a drink.

A drink sounds better.

I lift the corner of my mattress and pull out a flask, barely the size of my palm.It's half-empty, but I dump the remaining contents into the cup of cold coffee sitting at my desk. It burns my throat as it goes down, but it warms my stomach.

I glance at the clock on the wall.

Nine-thirty in the morning.

Last Edit: Dec 14, 2018 17:18:32 GMT -5 by Kali

Kali Seam Resident 14 POSTS last seen Dec 11, 2018 13:34:31 GMT -5	charis maisley [ d8 ] fin Dec 14, 2018 17:19:54 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Kali on Dec 14, 2018 17:19:54 GMT -5 She's all done <3

sbeeg Retired Staff 3,503 POSTS Pronouns: she/they last seen Nov 1, 2023 5:54:37 GMT -5	charis maisley [ d8 ] fin Dec 14, 2018 23:43:21 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by sbeeg on Dec 14, 2018 23:43:21 GMT -5