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teddy-clarke-blog · 6 years ago

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Self Para: “The Reaping” ft. Teddy Clarke, Monday Twilight

Location: District 11

“Wha, what the hell is that noise,” I say softly.

The morning light seeps from under the door as I pry my eyes open. I fight with my pillow to cover up what sounds like a train’s whistle in the distance, growing louder like a forlorn call into the night. I toss my pillow across the room and stare blankly up at the ceiling. The realization of who I am sunk in. For a brief second while I regained full consciousness, I forgot who I was. I forgot about my worries, the past, I just kind of… existed.

Controlled by luck, my arm reaches over to the makeshift nightstand beside my bed and smacks the fan to off mode. My eyes shut once more, hoping that just for a moment I could recover. That I might somehow slip back into the comfort of the dream. A grunt escaped my lips, followed by a sigh and the sound of sheets being shuffled. Unfortunately, I was awake.

I moved accordingly here and there, like any other Reaping day. I buttoned up my overalls, strapped on those ratty boots I got out of the dumpster and began high stepping it to the Hall of Justice like the rest, but today felt different. I feel different. I can’t tell if I’m thinking this just because today is Reaping Day, but I still feel like something bad might happen. Or I just have the bubble guts from last night’s rotten cabbage stew… Either way, I was resistant in moving forward.

Passing by the barn nearest to my house, I decided to stop by and see if anyone will help me out with this whole late thing. I have an idea. Not fully realized of course.

“Hello, hello, hello,” I ask grey-haired woman holding half a cigarette between her lips.

“Nah,” she scoffs. “We closed for Reaping.”

“I’m tryna to get there, I just need one of those,” I say pointing to an orchard tractor.

The lady lets out a cloud of smoke, “Boy if you don’t get your ass outta this barn.”

I let out a smile, “C’ mon. I’m already running late. I don’t need a nice one.”

The lady coughs while putting out her cigarette on the barn door. She smiles weakly before turning away with a thousand-yard stare.

“Get. Today is already hard enough.”

“I just-“

“Go,” the woman declares while shuffling her tattered cardigan.

Scrunching up my lip, I nod weakly. The temptation of just taking what I want anyway is still there. I know that if I wanted I could start up one of these old tractors without a key or permission and be about my day. The Seed taught me to not feel bad about taking what isn’t mine.

I start to walk away from the barn, but when I step forward I notice a set of keys hidden in the hay. They must have fallen out through one of the many holes in her cardigan. I turn back to the woman as if I was going to tell her, but I stop. I guess there still is some part of me that misses the dangerous life…

With the bang of the engine, I drive away from the barn. The tractor pulls faster than I anticipate, as the wind wants nothing more than to announce its arrival. To say, "I'm here," in my face.

It’s not until I swiftly arrive at the Hall of Justice when I realize that I’m going fast. I tear around the corner and fly by a set of peacekeepers. I try to slow the tractor down as commanded, but the brake appears to be jammed. I violently shift down on the gearshift to get the tractor, but it’s useless. I’m screwed.

“Uh oh,” I mutter as the key breaks off in the ignition.

Over the sound of the purring tractor, I hear a loud voice coming over the speaker system while I weave in and out of people. I realize how late I am as that voice calls out a distinct name from center stage.

“Monday Twilight.”

I steer the runaway tractor away from the crowd, knowing good and well what I have to do next. I head straight for the nearest solid, sturdy object and embrace for impact.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a blurry shape of a person where the voice was talking, strutting over to the glass bowl. Before she can say the name into the microphone her attention fixates on something in my direction. I try to see why it got quiet, but I realize it’s me. Everyone and I do mean everyone is looking at me. I look forward just in time to witness myself plowing the tractor straight into a peacekeeper tower.

“Teddy Clarke,” the voice beckons.

#tbp:task #tbp:task45

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teddy-clarke-blog · 6 years ago

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Johnny Appleseed

Self-Para ft. Teddy Clarke, Johnny & Apple-man

Location: District 11 barn

Entering through a back door, I make my way through the barn nearest to my shack. I pass by an array of haystacks and wheelbarrows full of apples before bumping into a dark-skinned boy.

“Is Chaff in,” I ask while the boy wipes the sweat from his brow onto the white, cotton shirt that hung from his shoulder.

“Nah. But if ya lookin’ for some work you can help out by choppin’ up those cow carcasses we got low key from Ten.”

”We interested,” the boy asked.

“No,” I sigh with a smile. “I got work out in the fields. I just need to see a man about a tractor.”

I just got out of this black market crap. I still have nightmares of stealing and dealing with The Seed. It was all so sloppy. I’d hate for anyone to get stuck and end up how they did.

He shrugs, “I don’t wanna do it either…”

“Then why you tryna get me to do it,” I ask. “The banners for the next game are up, the place is crawling with Peacekeepers… it seems a lil risky.”

“You can walk your self-righteous self right outta here with that bullshit,” the boy said moving hay bales around. “We all know what happened to The Seed, and almost you, but that risk is worth the reward.”

“Okay, you right,” I add throwing my hands up and raising my brow. “I can be a lil much with the advice, I mean who the hell am I, but for whatever reason y’all keep hearing me out.”

The boy stops, “What do you gotta say that I ain’t heard before.”

“Nothing. I just wanna help.”

The boy scoffs. He moves slowly towards the wheelbarrow full of apples.

“Unload this,” he adds pointing to the Capitol marked bin near my feet. “Put them in there, and maybe we can talk.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna make me work for it?”

“Yup,” the boy commands.

I obliged for whatever reason, slowly but surely moving the apples from the wheelbarrow.

“Okay, but like, you gotta tell me your name at least. I don’t even know you.”

“Johnny,” the boy adds.

“I’m Teddy,” I said reaching my hand out.

Just before he can return the favor, an elderly gentleman taps me on my shoulder. It’s not uncommon for folks around Eleven to wander around looking for food. We ain’t Twelve, but the struggle is still just as real.

“Spare a dollar,” the man whispers in his approach.

I shake my head, “I got nothin’ on me man.”

“But here,” I add picking up a fresh apple out of the bin. “It ain’t much, but it’ll take the hunger pains away.“

The man snatches it out of my hand before I can blink and promptly walks away without a thank you. Wish I can say this the first time someone had taken advantage of my nice behavior, but I’m used to it.

“You’re welcome,” I add sarcastically.

The man, who made it to the door, obviously didn’t like that. Not one bit. Before I can move, the elderly man turns back toward me with a furrowed brow and chunks the apple at me.

“I said a dollar, bitch,” the man chuckles as the apple bounces off my head.

#tbp:task #pre-reaping #it's been a while #yall be nice

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