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Short Story Contest (Jan. 26- Feb. 2)
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OH I'M GOING TO ENTER THIS ONE ON THE FACT THAT I WENT ON A CREEPYPASTA SPREE.
Could what I write be a fanfiction sort of thing or does it have to be like myself writing it? Cause of its the former I have something I could enter mwhahaha!
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Okay! Do we just put a link on here then? :) Sorry I haven't entered one before xD
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Burning Thoughts: THG FanFictionSitting at home on my own is the worst part of the day.
Everything is silent, everything is empty. No atmosphere at all within this room, within any room.
It's when the silence kicks in and there's nothing to do that bad, horrible thoughts return to my mind burning into my skull like a fire. Like the fire that covered me years ago.
Peeta works in a bakery five days a week, the children are old enough for school so I don't have to look after them. It took me a while to agree to children but they kept my mind off the bad thoughts for a while. Only for a while. Now they were at school they were away as much as their father, five to six hours they are usually away.
I can keep the thoughts away the first hour or two by cleaning the house. Polishing the work tops, tending to the garden, making sure all the toys are away and the painting brushes are clean. But once that is done there is nothing but sitting in front of the television. Every day I do the same. Every day I turn on the television and flick through the channels looking for something interesting, something to keep my mind off everything and anything.
But I am met with the same result, nothing to watch.
So now I sit, in the living room alone with only the silence to keep me company. That is when it starts. That is when the sudden thoughts consume me; hit me like a tidal wave in District 4 on a partially bad storm day. District 4 makes me think of Annie, Annie with her son who is getting older and older, becoming a young man and working to get fish and provide for his mother and his own family.
The last time I saw Annie she told me that he had begun to tie knots when he was having trouble catching fish, almost as a stress relief. He was becoming more and more like Finnick every day.
Finnick.
That's when it hits me. The crippling thought of his family being left without a father and without a husband pushes me back within my seat. His death flashes before my eyes, his body being dragged back down by the ugly horrifying mutations. His body being ripped limb from limb and his horrified face as it happened. It stuck to my brain like a nasty bug, eating away and making my throat close up.
It has been years, many many years since the horrible fight was fought and won. But his face is still in my brain fresh, as though it happened yesterday. I wish I could have saved him. I wish that I could have saved everyone that died in that horrible war and the horrible games which I myself had to participate in.
Glimmer and the District 4 girl who were sentenced to death by myself when I dropped the tracker jacker nest upon them. Their horrible puss filled bodies that lay on the floor as the cannon blew. The poor District 3 boy whose neck was snapped by Cato after I blew up the supplies, Foxface who stole the berries that killed her, Thresh who practically sacrificed himself to save myself by killing Clove. Cato who had the most horrible death of all, I had to kill him to end his life quicker. Otherwise… I can't even imagine the sort of pain he would have gone through. Clove who was killed by Thresh and Marvel who was killed by myself after killing Rue.
Rue.
That was when it all started, that was when the rebellion truly was put into action. Her body slowly drifting away as I sung to her in the middle of the arena, the spear through her stomach, the look on her face as she slowly slipped away.
She saved my life. She saved my life and I couldn't even do the same for her, all I could do was accomplish her last request of being sung to. I even lay flowers around her but that isn't the same. She was the eldest out of her siblings, what must have gone through their minds as they saw their sister murdered. All the families that saw their sons, daughters, sisters, brothers murdered.
I remember as she followed me in the training centre, how she told me about her favourite thing in the world, music. She got my trust, something which not many people could do. The death replayed in my mind over and over as tears hung on. I tried to stop them from pouring down my cheek; the thought of the painting of her that Peeta did made my breath become shallow and my heart pound. I can see her jumping through the trees quickly; she was light on her feet. Her posture and innocence reminded me of Prim.
Prim.
My sister, my lovely caring sister with the hands of a healer taken away from me in one split second. She was reaped; her name was only in the bowl once. But she was reaped. I volunteered to protect her, I volunteered to make sure she was safe and that nothing could harm her. But she was now gone.
Her fair skin, her blonde hair her bright blue eyes and small stature, she had a face which was as fresh as a raindrop. I remember seeing the blonde plait running down her back and the back of her shirt. I remember screaming out her name as the parachutes dropped and the second wave of bombs exploded. And that was it.
I'd lost her.
My sister, the one I was fighting for. She was gone.
Tears streamed down my cheek as I stared at the empty television, all the horrible thoughts of those I had lost and what had happened were flowing around my mind. My sister, my friends, and people I didn't even know were stole away from their families. All to stop the Capitol. To stop the horrible games.
Suddenly a cheerful giggle could be heard outside my home, standing up quickly I looked through the window to see my children running down the path. Their bags high on their backs and smiles on their faces, with my husband walking behind. Moving quickly I did what I always did, I grabbed a tissue and began to wipe my face quickly sniffing loudly to clear my throat. I walked to the hallway wiping my eyes for a few more seconds. I shoved the tissue into my pocket as the door opened.
I put a smile on my lips, one which became genuine as they ran to me with extended arms and cheerful faces. I hugged them for a moment before they ran away yelling about something that happened at school.
My head rose and a kiss was planted on my lips by my husband, he smelt like bread. He always smelt like bread.
"How was your day?"
He would always ask. No exception. I couldn't tell him about my thoughts, the thoughts I have when I am left alone with nothing to do but stare into a blank television. So I would always reply the same words.
"Much better now you've all come home."
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Apparently I won five contests.O.o When did this happen?
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Lav [lately I've been feeling] wrote: "You know, that one lifetime, when you were incredibly awesome and stuff."I must be on my second life.
Oo, yay, I think I'm going to write this one.
I wrote my story!I’ll never forget it.
The first time I was left alone, the sun was shining brightly onto our quiet street. I waved at my mother leaving before flopping down onto the couch and watched TV. There was a little snacking, a little internet, and then a lot of lying around waiting for something interesting to strike my fancy.
Not to long into being alone, I heard a creak upstairs. My eyes flittered up to the ceiling. Assuming it was my dog needing to be let out, I started climbing the stairs. As soon as I rested on one step, I looked to my left and saw my dog curled up, sleeping. Shrugging it off, I went back down to the couch.
Again, there was a tiny creek followed by a couple of soft footstep-sounding noises. Frowning, I checked back to where my dog was laying earlier. She was gone. I forgot the matter and resumed staring at the TV screen.
The sun started sinking off in the horizon causing the room to become darker. I turned on a couple of lamps. There was a quiet rumble of thunder outside. I only took two steps when the rain started thudding against my windows. Strange, I thought to myself. I headed to the windows and looked out, seeing blinding rain. Hoping my parents could get home safely, I rested back on the couch.
Another creak came from above. A step, another step, and then a thud. I jumped up and stared fearfully at the stairs. The staircase moaned as the steps became louder. Trying to calm my imagination down, I focused back on the TV. The satellite went out. I started panicking, regretting ever watching those horror movies that I did. My hand grasped the phone, and I put my finger near the “send” key after dialing 9-1-1. I knew it was silly of me to be doing things like that when there was nothing happening; but the footsteps, thunderstorm, and satellite all proved to be horror movie stereotypes, and frankly, I didn’t want to be the one hanging off a shower head.
I tried to get up to go to the computer, but I was frozen. I scolded myself silently for getting so afraid over nothing. One of the only thoughts in my head was that my parents were late; it was already nine. Eventually I could move my legs, heading over to the computer.
That’s when the lights went out.
I gave a small shriek, tears forming in my eyes. Now I was really regretting all those ghost stories. I figured I should call my parents, so I started searching for any type of light source I could use to clear the number dialed in at the moment and replace it with my mom’s cell.
The lights flashed on again. It caught me by surprise. I let out a repressed sigh and looked back over to the TV that I had turned off earlier only to see a shadow right beside it. The lights went out again.
I screamed, trying to find the send button on the phone. My legs were paralyzed with fear, but I tried to force them to move. After taking two steps, I was knocked down. Flashbacks from childhood nightmares seeped into my mind, making me remember my fear of the dark.
A hand seized my shoulder and yanked me up. Incoherent cries came out of my mouth, but another hand was thrown over my mouth. The first arm slithered around my shoulders and pulled me back onto what seemed like another person.
Suddenly, I felt calm. Even though I should’ve been screaming and fighting for my life, a sudden peace washed over me. My muscles relaxed, and even the fear left my mind. I almost forgot what was happening until it happened.
An eerie, raspy voice whispered into my ear, “Don’t be afraid of the dark.”
All the lights flashed back on. The arms released me, the rain stopped, and the front door open. “We’re home!” my mom said cheerily.
Sobbing, I ran to hug my parents. “What’s wrong with you?” my mom said with a concerned tone, trying to pull me away to look at me.
I asked them why they were late.
“What are you talking about?” Dad asked, confused. “We’re home early. It’s only four-thirty.”
My blood froze as I looked outside. The sun shone brightly onto our quiet street.
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It goes like this. It starts with people. Dissipates into separateness, into jagged little pieces of people, as we submerge ourselves into our own minds. And I don’t know what’s going on in there—I can’t look through their eyes, especially not in the dark, and see what’s going on behind them. So I turn. Go into my own world, into my own head. I decide, quite slowly, that the hum of the engine and the darkness of the road is enough to lose myself in. It’s enough to last forever.
I look out the back window, I watch the road recede into the sky, into a great pit of darkness. And I think, that’s how you lose yourself, really. Into that. And I’m terrified. There’s something both fascinating and melancholy about it, about that endless road, and I think maybe it is trying to blend seamlessly into eternity, into a little bit of oblivion. It is oblivion. And this is the road. And this is the road and the car and the dark, at night. It is the car full of sleeping souls. This is solitude at its finest.
And it scares me. Not being alone, in the purist sense of being alone (surrounded, yet separated), nor the dark (although that ignites a certain, primal fear). I watch cars drive by, quickly, I watch as their lights going into the distance. And that is all I see. They blind me, they pull me in, and I think that I’ll never see that car again. I will never know why, why are they driving ? I will never know what sorts of hearts beat inside those opaque doors, those black windows. I will never know what happened to them after they disappear into darkness. And I realize, quite suddenly, that I am nothing more to them. I am just someone inside of a car in the dark, speeding by, gone.
Gone. I think life is a road. This is terrifying—a road, a little stretch of eternity in the dark, that goes on and on where everyone is a stranger, where people sleep and dream and fall into the lull of the cars. I am afraid. I am afraid of this rising solitude, this darkness, this car that goes into the distance and disappears. I am afraid of disappearing.
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I may be slightly biased, because I love The Hunger Games, but I feel like she did an amazing job at keeping the people in character, making the reader feel the emotions, and making the story her own.
Baxter, are you still planning on running the next contest?
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iughp9aioejrg I won!? Why did I only check now jrgdbhsjfrgtp9hse Thank you! :D
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Prompt: Things that scare me when I'm alone