Madison Miristioma :: Eleven :: Finished

You've never been handed anything in your life. Even after Kirito won, your Dad denied his hand of help. You've heard stories, the whispers of how your Father could have been given his sight if he had accepted his cousin's offer. Yet he chose not to, blindness was what he was given and your Father has never wanted the easy way out of anything. You respect him for that, look up to him. As a boy you'd try to copy the confident way he carried himself as if knowing every turn of the world. Sometimes you'd wrap a cloth around your eyes and try to find your way through the house like he did. So many people see your Dad as fragile because of his blindness, but you've only ever seen him as the strongest person in your life. 

The ranch is quiet, isolated on the outskirts of the District. You know Dad likes it that way because he is most comfortable where he can hear everything. You've walked miles to school since you were a boy, but you've never minded the distance because where you live makes your Dad happy. It's seldom that you have friends over, not because you aren't allowed, but because the ranch is so far away from where they live. Still though, you're content. It isn't like the school house you go to for lessons is big. In fact, it's one of the smallest in the District designed solely for the outlying farms like your's. Most kids have to go home at midday to work the second shift in their family's fields. You are one of the few who stays until the end of the day because your Dad insists you get every ounce of education. He constantly talks about how he wants you to be smarter than he is so that you can do anything you want in Eleven. Dad got kicked out of school when he was fourteen on the basis of being a cripple.

Whenever anyone hears the name Miristioma, an instant indication of privilege affixes itself to you in the eyes of others. They think of Kirito, the Miracle Victor who led our District as Mayor and continues to contribute to society through his Medical Advancements. They think of that big Mansion in the Victors Village and the face of fame that fills the television screens often. You can't deny the basic structure of status that it gives you, being able to meet with anyone and to always know that there is an unspoken safety net beneath your family. You love Kirito and your second cousins, they are family. However, everything your immediate family owns has come from your own hard work and determination. Kirito didn't buy the ranch, your Dad did after spending seven sweltering summers as a shadow in some vast harvest orchard. Kirito doesn't manage the crops on the ranch, you and your family do. Kirito doesn't take the harvest into town for trading, you and your little sister Riley do. You are a Miristioma, but you have never lived off of Kirito's victory.

Away from people and the judgement about your last name or your Dad's blindness, the ranch is a peaceful place. You are social at school, one of the popular kids in your class of twenty or so students. You try to include every individual and you know more than everyone's names, but even so, you still prefer to come home to the seclusion of the ranch. While many teenagers would find the the silence suffocating, you find it therapeutic. You spend the afternoons after class drinking herbal tea and meditating with your Dad on the back porch. You spend hours in the external work shed that you built with wood messing with clay to make pottery. Your Mom is patient with you whenever you make a mistake because she finds joy in passing her passion onto her son. The ranch is home and you simply aren't a boy who has ever craved the bustle of city life.

The crops are your Dad's pride and joy, flourishing fields of wheat and grain that bring in a bountiful income each year. Of course, the money would seem meager in another District, but in Eleven it's a lot. Your Dad spends almost every second of everyday tending to the sprawling fields. He walks with only his fingers as guides brushing through the billowing leaves. You work with him often as well as with Riley to help with maintaining the wheat. Again, you are sure others would find the tasks tedious, but you are a farm boy through and through.

On the rare occasions that you do find yourself entirely alone, you are usually off walking down the wide lanes of the outer District. You know the District is full of suffering, sadness is practically the soil of District Eleven, but you search for the beauty. The visions of glimmering golden fields are some only the citizens of this District can even imagine. You could be like the rest and complain about the hardships, because there are many. Or, you can try to find purpose for the breaths that you are given.

You've always preferred to do the second.