Jackrabbit // Temple's End

You'll be a real good listener
You'll be honest, you'll be brave
You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful

I never thought life was worth a whole lot. District ten was a flat expanse of browns and grays and it was easy to lose sight in the blur. I'd lay in bed, gnawing on the skin around my fingernails reopening old wounds and stare up at the ceiling. A kick to the shin or a knock to the shoulder was welcomed, I could focus on the purple blooms darkening and then fading into sickly yellow.

I didn't have a lot to think about, not a lot of people to talk to. I didn't have much. I had cattle and chores, but work does not a life make.

Blood has stained my white dress crimson. Kahinta is yelling my name from the house.

I take in a deep breath.

Music echoes around the roof of the training center, spray paint dripping down a wall. Enzo's picture is smudged with blood, and distorted by sweat and fog. The colors have smeared, his face barely visible. I hear wolves howl and tip my water jug to thirsty lips.

Hold it.

A campfire crackles and laughter erupts. The ghostly moos haunt the arena as their voices reach the artificial stars above. Cameras click, and pictures are passed around. A small wooden skull sits in my jacket, pressing against my breastbone.

Hold it.

I feel Eve's hand in my own, warm and small but stable and strong. I hear water crash against rocks and Wander's soothing voice. The sugar of a little green cookie melts into my tongue.

Hold it.

My lips are still warm.

Hold it.

There is so much more to life than neutral tones, and I wish I could have seen them all.





And I let it go.

You'll be happy