The Abyssal [ Bloodbath: Lower District Tributes ]

I always knew it'd go quick. It's what my grandpapa was always mumbling about as he shuffled through the house with a spine bent at a funny angle and approximately four teeth left untouched by cavities that he flashed so readily in a big wide grin no one could manage to hate.  Except maybe mom did.  Maybe I'd heard the hushed arguments through the registers and just ignored them, let it be ghosts or mice or the dust bunnies I'd given names to.

One would say: "They're not stories, they're my life." The other would respond with voice raised just enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

"He is my son. Don't you dare fill his head with anymore nonsense."

And then all of a sudden I'm getting my wires all twisted because they're whistling at each other while I've got my ear pressed to the floorboards of a ship.  I'm trying to listen, but-

"What? I don't understand."

But I don't think they understand me either.

My cheek works against the grain. It stings, but for some reason I can't pull away. Instead I lean in, press until the boat forces my limbs into an awkward, lifeless roll.  But I'm not fucking dead.

That's what mom's never understood.

I cough on smoke, choke on water—when I come up for air I'm tugging hard at my belt, begging the leather to prevent my guts from spilling onto the deck.  I stumble again when I realize—"Shit.  Fuck."—my eye isn't working right and my fingers come away covered in blood when I bring them to my face.

"Quinn, fucking d-damn it," Help me.

[ saunders collection '05 - rave ]

As soon as confusion comes it dissipates. Scarlet stained steel drips into broken boards of the bellowing ship. A gentle breeze wafts through an ashen sky as salt sifts across your skin. Meanwhile, you stand there staring at the birds as they dive from above. How long has it even been? Half an hour maybe, and the world around you has shifted. Bodies drift on waves, bodies lay on boards, and bodies die on swords. No, not bodies, children. Meanwhile you stand with one leg and a tear lost on your cheek.

Yet in the shade of sorrow, a hint of happiness blooms. Standing there, free from the towers of trailing smoke, is Terra. She doesn't seem broken or beaten, just strong and resolute. Her sword is the mirror reflection of your own doused in a sheath of blood. Alas, what you see isn't tribute, but a vision of your sister before the fields burnt. You hear her songs and see your shapes shifting through the fronds. You don't see a tribute, you see home.

Taking each hobbled hop carefully, you make your way over to the girl before burying your head into her back. The warmth of her heat releases a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Then it hits you, hits you harder than the bombs that broke your childhood: this is the first time you've hugged someone in years. You squeeze her tightly as if letting her go would bring the ocean to swell. Who knows, crazier things have happened while children have been playing.

Okay?

You whistle lightly as you carefully look over her skin. Thankfully, any stains of scarlet don't seem to share the origin of her body. Did you do it? Did your fighting keep her safe? You don't realize it, but you're smiling. It's not one of the small ones you make when they throw rocks at you back home. It's not one of the ones you give your Uncle when he breaks another bottle. It's not one that says you don't understand me. It's real. It's your's.

The sound of squealing birds and screeching screams turns your attention from Terra back to the Twelves though. Frantically the girl seems to be trying to help the boy as the figures from the sky continue to assault them. Even from here, you can see the blood on each of them. Although you know you should stay away, look away. You're hopping towards them with your sword swinging towards one of the birds. Only, as it cuts through the air it misses and dives down towards the boy below.

A high pitched whistle, more of a yelp, leaves your lips.

No good deed goes unpunished.

[ saunders collection '05 - rave ]

I try and fail to push her away from me.  I'm not sure why I'm even trying to.  Maybe I've lost too much blood to think, maybe I don't want her to see that I'm crying.  "Just-" I grab at her hands, force them into wounds I don't think I'll ever see heal.

"Push down."

The tip of my blade is shaking as I point it in the direction of the blurry figures closing in.  I manage to swat away the pointy end of the whistling boys sword.

"Fuck off, shitheads."

No way I look threatening lying on the ground with Quinn hovering over me, trying her hardest to help me get the blood back beneath my skin. My voice cracks something awful as I try to finish my threats. I curse when I can't keep the blade from catching Quinn's skin.

"I'm- I'm fucking serious," my eyes bounce between them, hand trembling as I raise my sword. "I'll gut you if y'all don't fuck right off."

I swallow back the lump in my throat, my free hand drifting to the only thing close enough to offer me comfort as my heart beats until my ribcage feels like it cracks from the force. Her hands are slick with my blood, but I'm holding tight. Too tight even. It's all the strength I've got left.

"Monster," I mumble, mind drifting and vision going blurred again as my arm gives out, blade clattering against the deck for a brief moment. "M-monsters." I'm fucking losing it. What's real, what's not? Shit.

I raise the cutlass again quickly, but I think it's too late. And I think they know it, too.

Killers always do.

[ saunders collection '05 - rave ]

As the bond of your hug breaks, as the fingers fall against your skin, you know without words where you are now: alone again. Her blonde hair billows in the breeze as her sword sweeps; welcome to the silence. Ears that heard you beyond your voice and facial features fond of friendless have been stolen. Once again explosions have taken something from you, from her, from all those who survive in the rubble. First your voice and now the ears of the one who heard you. Maybe your song just isn't meant to be heard.

A fresh folly of tears trickle over your cheeks. Somewhere a flower is beginning to bud in the warmth of the sun. Here, that same sun is a spotlight that reminds you what a silent solo looks like. All around you faces are full of expression, excitement. They are less than a mile from you, sitting and watching. They are right there while you are in here with other children killing each other. And for the first time in your life, you hate.

In a different setting, a young boy with glistening tears in his eyes would be poetic. In here, it's just a prelude to death. You are a footnote in some spectacle on the sea. A boy who's family was bombed, shot, and shattered is nothing to anyone. You finally see here in this center of cruelty just how much nothingness you are. You are a lost whistle in the wind.

"Please don't let me die alone."

Your eyes find the girl from Twelve's face just as the feathered flock descends. You slump against a nearby railing with a sob. It isn't just you. You're all nothing. You're all just soldiers to rebels, sacrifices to the Capitol, and children caught in the aftermath. Meanwhile, you just wanted to play hide and seek with your siblings on those cracked cobblestone streets. You just want to dance, but instead they put a sword in your hand and tell you to kill. You just want a friend.

I love you.

It's a whistle you know falls on deaf ears. There is no one left to hear you. But you don't care. You hate this world because all you want is

love.

The whistle dies and you close your eyes. Terra is over by that other boy, the one who is hurt. You don't want to see it anymore: who hurts and who bleeds. So you swing and as you do something breaks. There's no room for a little boy and his games. Does she love you? Does anyone? 

[ saunders collection '05 - rave ]

For full *effect* here is the song Lachlan is whistling

How it Ends -- Big Fish the Musical

<><><>

The canon below doesn't phase you this time. The way the ship lurches is in synch to your heart. All that's left here is pain. Fallen faces and two kids from the same home. Is that laughter you hear? Someone in the audience is laughing right now? You're standing here with one leg surrounded by four bodies across from the only person who has heard you in years and someone is laughing? What part of this is even remotely funny?

I know exactly how this ends.

It ends with you.

It ends with me.

The notes of the old folk song waft from whistles between your lips above the lulling waves. In the reflection of your sword, a boy stares puffy eyed into the past. He sees summer evenings chasing moths down alleys. He sees bullets shooting through a busy corridor. He sees himself twirling around with his sister. He sees himself aboard a ship of bodies. He is you. He is both familiar and stranger. The two entities separated by the edge of the blade.

It ends the way a story's ending is supposed to be.

A bit insane.

A touch of pain.

You hold the tip of the steel to the sun escaping for a second into its sliver of shade. There are no new whistles to harmonize with your's. There are no fresh smiles upon seeing your face. There is only you and your never ending song against the silence. Maybe some Games you just have to play alone. Maybe that's been the point of it all. Or maybe it isn't a Game. Maybe it's just tragedy.

Adeptly told, yet uncontrolled.

It ends with faith.

It ends with love.

The sword falls from the sky and you turn your heads to her, to Terra. Despite the blood of her blade or the decisions she will make when that sword which has protected you turns its teeth towards you, she is still an angel. One of your hands rises to your chest above where your heart rests and balls tightly. She may not hear, but she may see. Love. Let her see love. You don't want to die tasting the venom of hatred.

It ends with water and a river and the sun above.

Part epic tale, part fire sail.

But all sincere and standing here.

You hop towards her, your fist tight to your heart. It thumps against your chest as you hop: Love, love, love. It rages against the bodies on the boards. It screams against the caterwauling canons. It overcomes even physical restraints. Even in death you've felt love. Even in the pain of a fight with a friend.

I know I wasn't perfect.

I know my life was small.

I know that I pretended that I knew it all.

Your sword shines in the sunlight as you grow closer to her. Your hand is a hammer of something more important than the rising blade. Even though one of you most go, it isn't alone. That girl said it: she didn't want to die alone. You don't want to die alone either. No one deserves to be alone. Especially, not when you're with your only friend.

But when you tell my story and I hope somebody does.

Remember me as something bigger than I was.

The final notes ring from your whistle into a world that won't understand, but they aren't for them. They are for you. For what you could have been. For what you may become. For what lives beyond where two friends cross swords on a ship in a sea. 

[ saunders collection '05 - rave ]

You remember the first time you saw Ma cry. You were out back sifting through some sort of stones when something shattered inside. Barefoot and emerald eyes as wide as the avenues down main street, you barreled around the boulevard to find her in the doorway. Her eyes, the mirrors of your own, loosed a river of water while a wail rained from her lips. Her brother had just passed, but in that moment all you felt was fear. Nothing you could do other than stare at the strength of your heart and watch its foundation weaken. Now is like that.

Terra, her head the equivalent of a halo, now is adorned with the same salt. The small streaks spill in sobs that match your own. You are each two children crying for one another while your swords turn towards the other. This is the rain that comes before the thunder. The thunder that comes before the quiet. This is what happens when the thorns of love are used as weapons of pain. This is what happens when two friends fight.

The blood that blooms from your sword nearly makes you screech. However, it is the laughter that stops you from shaking. Is it those people beyond the barriers again? No, it's Terra. Her body breaks beneath the sound of laughter purged by the pain of her heart. Her heart. She knows what lies on the other edge of your sword's teeth. And somehow, shakily, you slightly laugh in a sob as her own sword scratches your head. You're crying as you giggle.

I see. I see. 

You gesture to your eyes at the lesson she levies for you. How painfully sweet it is to hear two kids laughing on an ocean of death. Together, your silhouettes cast shadows across the arcing sails of snow now splattered in cascades of crimson. How fitting, for there is no mercy here. This is heartbreak. This is laughter where no other sound can handle the weight of the world's boot.

Again.

You copy her gesture as the blood from your cut leaks into your tears. In this moment, you see each other for who you are. You are the two sides of the same sword. One heart, one soul, one fight. A tear slices through the the scarlet on your cheek: one more life. Your sword's tip tears into the boards creating a single symbol, an infinity sign. Your eyes look to her.

Forever.

Let the pain come. Let the hurt stretch across your skin. Let friends find the meaning of loss on a ship of phantoms. Whatever may come, they are forever. They are forever two kids lost in war not alone, but together. 

[ saunders collection '05 - rave ]