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Monsters inside your head.Fear of the unknown, I can understand that-
Fear of the creature all dressed in black.
You can make up your stories and weave terrible lies,
Screaming at nightmares behind your closed eyes,
You believe I am dangerous yet look at yourself,
You wander in here with no thought for your health.
I'm not going to hurt you I just want to show you the way,
Because little girl...
I'm here to stay.
Not Prim. (story)
I scream hysterically as I watch the blonde plaits come into view. I'm no longer sure whether the wounded howls coming from my throat are actually mine or as they sound, possessed by a demonic dog. But as she raises her head to the sky with closed eyes I fall quiet.
What have they done to her? That isn't her.
Her eyes are rimmed in earthy tones and her lashes are velvety. And then she opens her eyes. I know the look so well and I know this was all designed to hurt me. Eyes rimmed in earthy and autumn browns...velvety eyelashes. Those large eyes filled with fear that turn towards me when I fire my arrows at them in the woods. They've turned her into a deer.
How dare they?! How dare they show me what they want her fate to be by dressing her as prey. How dare they mark her as the animal I kill when I go hunting! And as realisation hits me I can no longer remain on my feet.
They've marked her as the one to be hunted.
As the countdown begins her eyes flicker towards the cornucopia where sup
A dead smile for a little while...Don't be alarmed when I tell you that this girl doesn't smile,
She hasn't for quite a very long while,
You could call me a liar when you see her lips curve in a crescent arc.
The rosy lips flashing pearly white teeth as you catch that gaze
Hidden beneath that aloof lost curl of brunette hair,
Escaped from the bun scraped most severely upon her head.
But I tell you young sir, her eyes are dead.
Look again my gentle sir; find some reflection of a hope maybe left
In that glassy stare of hazel gold,
I doubt it though; this girl is far too old,
Not in the sense of aging lines or of frowned etchings between her eyes,
Alas, perhaps those lines would be better than this,
The aged dip of her spiny neck as she stares at nothing
That would stir a lively man and yet in this small smile
You can see that inside she is quite upsettingly and most regrettably -
And quite long so.
Clove's death -Part 2/2 Cato's P.O.V
All my years of training mean nothing now as I sprint towards the body on the floor. "Clove!" Even I can hear the pain in my voice as I run across the open plain. I realise too late that I'm vulnerable where I am but the waxen colouring on Clove's face wipes any thoughts of self-preservation from my mind.
"Stay with me Clove, we have to win remember? We have to win I need you to win."
I can see the faces of the trainers back home as they watch me now-the disgust that will be on their faces should be enough to push me back into Career mode but all I can see right now is the irregular fall of Clove's chest.
"Please Clove, stay with me. Please!"
No longer are my District going to see the strong volunteer Cato and the deadly knife throwing girl Clove. No, right now they are seeing children dying in an arena and I can't let that happen.
When I hear the cannon for my darling Clove's death go off I graze my lips across the dent in her temple and run my
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More