monolith. zori & kaplan.

✨ zozo.
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monolith. zori & kaplan. Apr 27, 2020 23:56:57 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on Apr 27, 2020 23:56:57 GMT -5

c a r m e n .

"caught in the undertow
just caught in the undertow
i've become so numb
i can't feel you there."

It's like any other boring day. Get up. Siblings up. Drag Dad out of bed. Breakfast, drag the kids to school, sit in class, leave, drop the kids off at the neighbours, head to the warehouse, get changed, say hi to Dad, get to work. Machinery, the same eight steps - press button, monitor, pull lever, check, reset lever, press button, wipe brow, breathe. Over and over and over again, sipping on my water-bottle between sighs and stretches. It's shit work, but it's work that pays.

I've been doing this for so long I can't imagine anything remotely interesting happening to me ever again. When I fall asleep at night, exhausted by routine, I close my eyes and pray to whatever force is out there that something different happens. That I wake up and the world is different. That I find myself in a situation I couldn't even fathom. Hell, that something good might happen to me. I feel myself becoming a grey girl in a grey world, dirty overalls and concrete walls and lead pencils and steam. There's no colour in me anymore. I can feel it seeping out of my soul with each day that passes, terrified I'll become so empty it'll start sprouting from my head like Dad. He's let himself bleed dry, and let me slowly bleed out too - and I hate him for it.

I love him, and I understand why he stopped caring about himself - but I hate how he gave up on me, too.

Press button, think about dinner, monitor, wonder what's left in the cupboard, pull lever, count the days since I went grocery shopping, check, I could do pasta, reset lever, someone's yelling, press button, I wonder who left the machines on again, wipe brow, bet it was Georgio, breathe-

And my wish is granted.

I hear it first. A great BANG! that throws me back from my buttons and levers. The machinery groans to a painful stop and starts sparking, and when I cover my eyes I hear - then feel - the next explosion.

I start screaming mid-way through the air. Knocked off my feet, I hit the railing behind me with a violent crack and my scream is cut short, gasping for the air that leaves my lungs. I must've landed on the concrete floor because my left side aches and throbs and my ears ring and ring and ring as I desperately try to catch my breath.

Trembling, the shock doesn't set in until the adrenaline does. There's a sharp alarm piercing through the air that fades into a dull alarm, and it takes me a few minutes to realise it was my hearing giving out, then returning. People are yelling, someone's crying, but I'm too scared to open my eyes. I just lie there, shaking, coughing on dust and smoke - until I hear a voice underneath all the chaos.

"D-Dad?" I choke - then my eyes fly open.

Where's Dad?

table by ele!

Last Edit: Apr 27, 2020 23:57:19 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

marguerite harvard d2a (zori)
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monolith. zori & kaplan. Apr 30, 2020 0:13:23 GMT -5

Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Apr 30, 2020 0:13:23 GMT -5

Blackston Hope

Blackston spent the morning praying.

There were the usual prayers. For his uncle Pierre to help lead the district. There were the mutters already that he’d taken his hand off the steering wheel and eight was headed straight into a ditch, but that was just chatter. For Birdie, who’d brought some strange little man home that had insulted him and left her in such a state she’d locked herself in her room. He imagined it had something to do with her usual self-induced crisis, but still worried about her. Then for the impure thoughts he’d been having lately, mostly about boys he’d seen on the factory floor, but also for the thoughts he’d had last night.

Leland had appeared in his dream and – well, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. First on account of the fact that he was a positively abhorrent man. He always smelled like stale cigarettes and wood chips. Whenever he came over, he and Birdie would have a row and then go to her room. He imagined they fought there too, seeing as he always seemed to hear them opening and shutting drawers and the bed knocking up against his bedroom wall.

He didn’t want to say that the dream was actually about Leland, with his big dumb face and smirk. More of the thought of Leland. That he was so much taller than Blackston, with strong arms and a bigger build. That he could remember him at picnics with Damaris playing games and chasing some of them around. He could be lovable, but more than that, Blackston liked the thought of someone who looked like Leland might’ve held him. Someone that could’ve kept him safe, that would’ve lay next to him so it wasn’t just his stuffed animals taking up space.

Morning had come and dreams of his not-uncle (an important distinction, they were not related by blood and not technically by name – which felt less sinful) had faded. Well, except for the wet spot he found in the sheets.

He’d been so embarrassed he hadn’t even stopped to check-in on his aunt. He figured she was probably still passed out from either crying herself to sleep or the bottle of wine she likely got into, so, he’d pet pistachio at the base of the stairs and set off for work.

This was to be a half-day for Blackston, who knew he’d need to attend his uncle Pierre’s birthday party that afternoon. He’d packed up his bookbag with a button-up shirt and a pair of slacks, with a sweatervest and tie to look positively smart.

He’d wished Pierre had been his father. He was a good man who did good for the district, and at least seemed to remember his name. He also had a great big house that Blackston felt as though he could get lost in, and Aunt Abandon was the sort of radiant woman he’d always wished had been his mother. The sort of icy, but firm looking mother that would have told him to clean up the plates after dinner and recite psalms in front of the fire. A dream.

As the day wore on, he’d been stationed at the sewing machines, working away at another pattern. He kept trying to get his thoughts off of Leland by imagining the party, and all the good food he’d get to eat. There would be bacon, or shrimp, or maybe little sandwiches with cucumbers. Blackston would idle in a corner and try every last thing Pierre’s help brought out on trays. Except he kept turning back to Leland, and then Birdie, and then the little man that had been in their living room.

Blackston liked the way the man had yelled at him. Well – not at the time – but that he’d stuck for Birdie.

He had lost track of time when there’d been a clicking sound, and then a rattle, followed by a bang.

Fire swept across the factory floor, and he’d been knocked right out of his chair onto his back. Blackston rolled to his side and covered his head with his hands. He hadn’t the time to think about death before a great groan sounded, and the whole building seemed to tear itself apart.

Ears ringing, he couldn’t see through the dust and the rubble, his head dizzy as he slouched through the bits and pieces that had falled over him. He wiggled his right foot, then his left. Then his fingers. He could just shift his body to see through the darkness at the girl that was not ten feet away.

‘D-dad.’ She said, and Blackston coughed.

“H-hello?” He tried to move his left arm, but winced. His right arm shifted, and he felt it come free of whatever it’d been covered in. He did his best to try to wiggle his fingers in a wave. “I can’t… move… who’s out there? Someone…?”

Last Edit: Apr 30, 2020 0:15:41 GMT -5 by marguerite harvard d2a (zori)

kap
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monolith. zori & kaplan. Apr 30, 2020 12:11:14 GMT -5

Post by kap on Apr 30, 2020 12:11:14 GMT -5

But there was more hurt
In the back of your eyes

Today was supposed to be the day where I turned my life back around. I hadn't had a beer in about a week, and it actually felt good to be sober. Over the past seven days, my younger brother Henry and I had started bonding more. He told me how much he missed the good times we'd had, and how he'd even started to grow jealous of how much people noticed me when I was walking around in the District. He wanted to be popular like me, he had said.

Popular. That's not exactly the word I would've used to describe how much people in the District notice me. I don't feel like the way they notice me is a positive thing, after all. Recognized, perhaps? Well-known, maybe? Although, that wouldn't be because people wanted to know who I was, it was more so because they had to. Anyone who was alive and at least a few years old during the 80th Games, which was the majority of people in District Eight right now, would know who I was.

Regardless, if Henry wanted to be popular, I could at least try to help him. I just had to let him know that that's not what I was. I was simply recognized. He wanted people to like him for his music, especially. I'd taught him to play guitar years ago, before the 80th, back when things felt normal and safe. That is, back when we were all happy.

Now, we couldn't completely be happy. No, not after losing Dad. Not after me going through the Games, coming back resurrected and developing a drinking problem. Not after all that had happened. We couldn't be happy entirely, but we could at least try to be, a little bit.

That's why, today, Henry and I started out the day playing guitar together. He'd stayed home from school today. Not too long ago, I gave him my old guitar when Mom got me a new one as a post-final-reaping gift. Even though she didn't say it, it seemed like she wanted to tell me "hey, you survived, here's a good coping mechanism, have a guitar".

I didn't utilize this new "good coping mechanism" for quite a while, as I'd instead relied on other things, but recently, I'd decided I'd make use of it. Henry and I could use it for a little bit of brotherly bonding.

After a couple of hours sitting on the front lawn and teaching Henry how to play some new things, as well as relearning a little bit myself, as it'd been years since I'd picked up a guitar, Henry went back inside the house to eat some lunch. He offered to make me some food, but I told him not to worry about me, and decided to wander about the District instead.

Using my crutch to help myself walk, I made my way away from our home and towards the more factory-centric section of the District, walking by many of the tall buildings where people were working today.

That's when the factory building that was not too far up the street from me collapsed. There had been an explosion, and I heard a loud ringing in my ears. People were shouting, screaming and yelling out for help, and I immediately felt like that's what I had to do. Help.

I moved as quickly as I could with my crutch over to where the building, its wreckage, and most importantly, the people who'd been inside were. When I got over to where the terrible scene was, I heard people calling out from under the wreckage.

There was a boy with his arm trapped, saying he couldn't move. A girl next to him was calling out for her father. Immediately, I raced over to the two of them the best that I could with my limp and my crutch. I set my crutch to the side and immediately started to move the debris off of the boy.

"I'll help you! You'll be okay, I'm here to help, okay?" I told the two people I was trying to aid. I managed to get what was on the boy's arm off of him, and tried my best to help him up, despite the pain that I felt shooting through my bad knee now that I didn't have my crutch to support me.

"I'm coming to help you. Hold on, it's okay," I told the girl. I was trying to remain as calm as I could myself with all that was going on. Surprisingly, I was doing quite well. I certainly wasn't completely numb to the chaos, but maybe my time in the arena had actually helped me become calmer in frightening and dangerous situations.

Still trying to hold the boy upright, as I was pretty sure he couldn't stand, I started to shift the debris that was trapping the girl.

"Are you alright?" I asked as I tried to help her. I felt my previously injured knee starting to bow in this moment, and knew I'd be feeling a lot of pain later, but I had to keep helping. I couldn't do it while I was trying to support this boy, though, as it was difficult to hold him up, and doing things one-handed wouldn't be very efficient. I turned to him.

"Are you okay enough to sit while I try to help more people?" I asked him. I tried to guide him gently to the ground to sit, away from the debris the best that I could, while still keeping an eye on the girl to make sure she was okay.

I know it can be hard
To show them anymore

song: "Beneath the Water" by Feed the Biirds

table credit to dars!
925 words