#cotcsidetask

[ayla-in-august]

Not What It Seems || Day Before Oneshot

The yearly whispers were abundant at school as I walked through the halls. Forcing my dilapidated locker open, I couldn't help but catch quips of guesses on who would be reaped this year, what Mafalda would be wearing, if the tributes would be from our school. A couple of girls glanced around their lockers at me and giggled, apparently talking about how glad they would be if I were reaped. I rolled my eyes and pulled my physics textbook out, trying not to rip the seams even further. 

The Hunger Games were a juvenile carnival of Capitol propaganda and I wanted nothing to do with them, yet each year they seemed to creep upon the Districts like a sudden plague of the Black Death. One day we were fine, the next we had dead children and mourning families. Considering it was extremely emotional more often than not, I tended to push it to the back of my mind. This year was no different. My father and I were well off enough, so I never needed to take tesserae out. I would only have four entries this year; my chances of getting chosen were slim to none. I would just have to take time out of my schedule to attend the pageantry. 

I slammed my locker door closed, as typical because it needed a large amount of force to lock, but I was only met with a clang, a groan, and then a clatter as it detached from its rusty hinge and fell to the ground. 

"Fuck," I muttered to myself. Everyone in the crowded hallway was looking on at this point, which I hated, so I did the first thing that popped into my mind. I acted as if nothing had happened and walked sheepishly away, internally kicking myself for how awkward I felt. 

If there was one trait I lacked in quantities, it was grace. But that thought dissipated as I peered into a classroom, overjoyed that it was empty. Of course it was, everyone would be running home to spend the night with their families. It just might be their last. 

I sat down at a table and began to read the textbook, opening it to Newton's Third Law. Action and reaction. Reading was soothing to me, and while textbooks weren't exactly my first choice, I didn't want to leave the school yet. After hours were always such a pleasant time of day to me; I wanted to extend those as far as I could. 

And then I heard the lock turn. Not again.

I couldn't tell if it was a teacher that just hadn't checked the room or if it was some idiot pulling a prank on me. Both had happened before, and it didn't make much of a difference to me either way. I rolled my eyes, continuing to read for another half hour or so.

When I had finished the chapter, I stood up and walked over to the windows, checking each one and hoping they were unlocked. If they weren't it would actually get difficult. To my relief, the last one pulled up about six inches.

I bit my lip and grabbed a piece of paper, taping it up and blocking the small window in the door, then began stripping my clothes down. Covering my naked body, I quickly stashed them with my books in an empty cabinet and decided that I'd go back to get them tomorrow after the Reaping. I had more at home, anyway. 

Stretching out my neck and arms, I took a deep breath and suddenly I was only about four inches tall, hopping around the desks and chairs on talons and pinpointing the open window. Raising my wings up, I flapped and glided towards the window, escaping the school and taking refuge in a nearby bush, where I took another deep breath and was about twice my previous size. 

I liked the form of a crow much better. It was comforting and nobody bothered crows. Once again, I took flight. It was only about a mile to my house, but I spent a good ten minutes swerving around the building, trying to find an opening. 

Instead I saw a figure moving inside the kitchen, so I perched on the sill and tapped several times with my beak. My father jumped inside, then turned. His face turned to a smirk and he pulled the window open. 

"Again?" he asked as I hopped into the kitchen. I cawed gently. "Well go put some clothes on."

I flapped up onto the stair banister and turned back to him, shaking out some ruffled feathers. 

"My daughter," he shook his head and did a shooing motion with his hand. "Go. I'm getting dinner ready."

I quickly flew up the steps and into my room, where I took one last deep breath and I was suddenly 5'8" again, picking up a pair of jeans from my floor. I quickly threw on my clothes and ran down the stairs. 

"Thanks, dad," I smiled. How he put up with my so-called "quirks," I didn't know, but I loved him for it. 

He was the only person I loved. And I was perfectly ok with keeping it that way.

[ayla-in-august]

Show Us the Book That Represents You the Most || The Stranger, Albert Camus

"I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world"

Existentialism has always fascinated me in an odd way. The idea that there is no grand scheme of things, no great plot you're destined for. It goes against everything in the storybooks. I guess, instead of depressing me like it does everyone else, it just makes me feel grounded. Clears up my head, I suppose. The Stranger was the book that introduced me to the concept. I can't say it's even close to one of my favorites story-wise, but it's very dear to me because it created for me my own personal philosophy.

[anatolianoctabelle]

Yin and Yang | | Flashback OS

8. What is your saddest memory?

Sad does not quite describe the memory that I am about to illustrate before your very eyes. Let us try miserable. I believe that to be a better adjective in describing this sharp recollection. Sad is often used to describe things that very well are not quite sad. It is a term that is overused. And this reminiscence does not classify as only being sad. It is heart-numbingly hopeless, with overbearing quantities of sorrow. But rest assured, that is not all this remembrance entails.

I was quite fragile then. Because I had been rendered fragile by evil, by scum. If I had any strength back then, it had been chipped, no hammered away all at once, leaving nothing but a porcelain shell keeping all of my bones in place beneath my easily breakable exterior. All hope had dissipated. I was broken, both inside and out. The abuse had very much done that to me. The throbbing bruises on the outside were mirrored on the interior. But I have since then recovered. I am stronger now. I serve my Lady Artemis, and no man will ever break me down again like I once was, I swear to the very gods who sit atop Mount Olympus!

The blindfold had been savagely ripped from my face. I could not meet the face of my attacker back then. I was quite broken. It was something that I could not bring myself to do. Now, I would love to see the face of that swine. To torture him; to get my well-deserved revenge. Lady Artemis has promised to me that I will avenge what he so much as dared to do to me in due time. He is no match for the huntress I have blossomed into. Compared to me, he is just a mere mortal whose thread of life will soon be cut by the Moirai. I do wish that I could cut the string myself, but that would be quite a risky endeavor. I shall be quite content with directing a silver arrow into his skull. And then to the Fields of Punishment he will go, to suffer for all of eternity alongside the wretched bastards of his kind.

His hands grabbed at me, carelessly lifting me off of the floor. I was much too weak to fight back. Days without food and water had left me quite malnourished. I vow that I will never return to that state of complete weakness and hopelessness. I am so much more now. I have become a huntress. I have become the epitome of female strength and persistence, and I will serve Lady Artemis for the rest of my days. And anyone who dares cross me again in such a manner will find themselves in the pits of Tartarus before they can name the Twelve Olympians.

I was rudely deposited on a lone bed, landing atop rough sheets where this barbarian planned to keep me for the rest of my life. How disrespectful he was! A huntress to be, I was. And he had disrespected me in such a way that would earn him a well-deserved spot in the Fields of Punishment. How I wish I could see him rot forever after I dispose of his measly existence. It is an insult to Gaia herself that he walks upon her very flesh!

At this point all I did was sob. Sobs that wracked my weak body, that thundered throughout the abandoned warehouse. No tears streamed down my cheeks. The gland was as dry as Hades’s humor. I turned to praying. There was nothing left for me to do. I am unsure of whether or not, back then, I believed in a greater good, but I prayed for salvation from this wretched man nonetheless. And my prayers were answered by Lady Artemis.

7. What is your happiest memory?

A burst of silver light flooded the room. I presumed that I was hallucinating. I was quite sure of it. Having had no sustenance for the past few days surely could have done that to me. It was quite a reasonable presumption for me to make on my behalf. I thank the gods every day that I was wrong; that I was not hallucinating. That the virgin goddess had heard my prayers up on her throne, and had chosen me to join the sacred hunt of maidens.

Would you like to join me, my child?

The words were spoken as smoothly as a running river. I felt as if I could trust this woman, this goddess-like figure, with my life. I felt as if I knew what she was proposing without having to inquire. And it was this very instinct that changed my life forever.

Yes.

I spoke a single word. That one word made me the huntress who I am today. It made me the strong woman who I am today. It allowed me to bury, deep down, what had happened to me, and live the rest of my life in the wild alongside my sisters.

You must take the oath. Repeat after me, my child. I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the hunt.

It was as if Artemis had enlightened me to the point where I did not need to hear this oath to know what I would be pledging myself to for the rest of my life. I repeated her softly spoken, yet confidently spoken words without hesitating for even a moment.

I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the hunt.

I was gone from that horrid place. I had left it all behind. My past, that time in my life. It was all behind me. And in front of me was the rest of what would turn out to be a wonderful life of hunting alongside my sisters, serving the virgin goddess, and living life as I very much hope to forever.

Is it not quite interesting how just one single memory can be both the most miserable one and the most wondrous one?

[pass-me-another-drink]

A quote that represents me.

[mallory-queen]

Visit Original Link

Press play on your iPod  ✖  My Own Worst Enemy - Lit  

It's no surprise to me,

I am my own worst enemy

Cause every now and then 

I kick the living shit out of me

The separation of my powers from my emotions have always been the largest struggle that accompanied me. The blood running through my veins is of great emotion, and the ultimo source of strength for the women in my family. However that being said, its been the biggest challenge for each of us for generations.

Aerie, my older sister, has the power of telekinesis. Which I somewhat have as well, however it only pertains to life in nature, where as her's pertains to any physical object. She is definitely the intellect of the two of us, and Im sure thats why she's gained that ability. Her strong mind is the source of her power and she still faced this dilemma when she first obtained her gift. There would be shit flying around constantly. Plates crashing to the ground and chairs smacking the chilling when she was angry, objects moving aside as she passed them when she was upset. And I too now have the same problems

"Focus Mallory!" Aerie shouts as I sit crossed legged in the backyard of her house. I feel my nails diving into the skin on my palms and my teeth forcing their way into each other. My breath abruptly releases and my body looses its tension.

"Damnit Mallory, why'd you stop!" She sighs frustratedly.

"Cause my fucking head was about to pop off." I start as an aggravated 14 year old. "Why the fuck are you pushing me so hard!" I scream, but I was not met with the face I had expected on Aerie's face. She stood with all her weight on one leg and her arms crossed. A smirk painted across her lips and she only looked at me.

"Why the hell are you smirking like that?" I asked, still angry.

She still said nothing and instead gestured behind me with a protrusion of her chin. My eyebrows furrowed as I spun to see what she was talking about.

I turned and my jaw dropped as the full image and cause of this outcome snapped in my mind. I was starring at the edge of the forest, but it looked like it had been through a 20 year long drought. All the leaves from the trees laid brown and stiff on the forest floor, consisting of dry, gray cracked mud, and the shriveled remains on now brown flower steams barely standing from their decrepit roots, and grass that has completely vanished. The bark of the trees was brittle and peeling with a slight breeze, sending a flow of dust into the air.

"What the fuck aerie! I did this?!" I hollered as I turned to face her again.

"Isn't it amazing! You have such strength Mal" Her face glows with excitement and admiration towards what I've just done. But I feel knots in my stomach, yanking on my every being and embedding a panic into my bones. I run over to her, frantically clutching her arms, tears streaming down my face.

"This is horrible, this is what I do? I suck the life out of nature." I being panting nervously, believing that i've been gifted with the ability to spread death. I fall to the floor on my knees, and drop my head into my hands. I can't bring death to beauty, its against everything that I stand for. My soul is connected with these forests and nature as an entirety.

But my tears are curt off as I feel an entanglement around my legs and torso. like something is creeping along my skin and trapping my. Shaking still, I move my hands from my face and all life was brought back to my complexion. They were little vines, and roots. Spreading across my body with strength and force. small flowers with bright petals blossomed around me and the grass exploded with vibrance. I jumped up smiling and giddy and laughing.

"Look Aerie! Look what I did." my heart pounded like a rhythmic drum and aerie smiled with me, pulling me into an embrace. She spun around with me and the two of us looked into the once barren forest, now resurrected with a new life that oozed with energy.

"You see. This is what you're capable of."

[ayla-in-august]

12. Press Play on your iPod || Landslide, Fleetwood Mac

Well, I've been afraid of changin' 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Even children get older And I'm getting older too

"Ayla," I heard a soft beckoning from downstairs. It was my father. That much I could tell. The gentle unease in his voice bothered me, though; nobody else would have been able to tell something was wrong, but I knew my father too well. And while he was not a loud man, he had little restrictions when it came to his only daughter. 

I climbed down the steps and glanced around the corner into the kitchen. My father was sitting at the table, elbows propped on top and his hands busy fiddling with some new instrument he was working on. But as soon as he felt my presence, he slid it over to the side and looked up at me. 

"Ayla, sit down, please," his manner was even more formal than usual, so I knew it had to be serious. In the Augusta home we were not extraordinarily affectionate, but this stern formality warned me that something was coming. 

"As is obvious, I am getting older," he stated calmly. "I am older than your friends' parents, maybe even the same age as some of their younger grandparents. And people my age-"

"Dad, you're fifty-five," I interrupted. "That can hardly-"

"Let me finish," he stopped me. "Ayla, people my age get sick. And while I am not yet, both of your grandparents died relatively early of a lump on their brains. Both of them. You know what this means."

I inhaled for a minute, taking in the realization of what he meant by this. He was a ticking time bomb. The lumps that appeared on many people in District Three, on their brains or lungs or throats, had a genetic link in addition to the effects of the foul factory air. And while officials had worked to clean the air in many people's workspaces, that genetic factor was still there, and quite deadly. 

"You're going to die soon," I managed to get out. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

He paused for a minute, contemplating, then gently nodded his head. "For all we know, it may not appear for ten or fifteen years. But this sickness is malignant. And I'm getting older and weaker every day."

"But," I looked down at my hands, which had begun trembling. "If it comes earlier... if I'm left alone..."

"You will not be left alone," he said confidently, though I could hear the tremor of doubt in his voice. "You're getting older, you know how to take care of yourself, and you're the smartest damn girl in this entire District. But..."

He trailed off softly, as if not wanting to tell me the next part. I waited, feeling the nausea rise. What else could there be?

"I want you to see a boy."

I was taken aback. A boy? Of all of his concerns, his predilections of his own imminent death, he was worried about my relationship status?

Apparently seeing the confusion drift across my face, he smiled a bit. "You are so involved academically and intellectually and you seem to find no interest in finding someone. And I want is to make sure you're taken care of as you get older."

"Dad, I can take care of myself," I stood up, pushing the chair back behind me. "I appreciate your concern, but neither I nor any of the boys in the District are interested in making sure I'm 'taken care of' by someone else."

"Ayla," he protested as I turned the corner to the stairs. "Ayla I just... I can't have you suffer."

I turned around to stare him directly in the eyes.

"I've built my life around you. And I love you more than words can comprehend. But I want to make sure that when I'm gone, you will not be alone in the world," And though no, our family was not particularly affectionate, he took me into a loving embrace. 

We separated without saying a word and I turned and ran up the stairs. I didn't want to give him an answer. Not now, at least.