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Literature Text
The hum of chatter hung in the air as we stood in a line, velvet curtain rolling slightly in front of us. It felt like only a minute ago I had been sneezing glitter as I rejoined the rest of the group, plus Mako, who had the job of showing us to the stage. In reality, it had been fifteen or so minutes ago, but you know what they say: time flies when you're having fun. Or, rather, the opposite. Standing around waiting for the camera crews to set up, the host to get ready; it was so boring. It was better than freezing my ass off in District Twelve, though, so I tried to feel slightly grateful. But as my knees began to creak and my feet began to ache, I found it harder and harder to do so.
"Sorry, sorry!" I heard a familiar voice cry out from behind me. Glancing backward, I saw Phoenix emerged from the shadows, her loose, sequined dress glittering in the light like fish scales. I suppose that made sense, her being from District Four and everything. I could help but notice, with a pang of pity, how much tighter the other dresses were compared to hers. While the other girls wore provocative things that barely left anything to the imagination, hers was almost like...something you might wear to a wedding, or church, minus the sequins. Not so surprisingly, the Capitol weren't fond of girls with a stomach.
As the orange-haired girl passed, she spotted me, and paused momentarily. "Hiya, Finn!" She greeted with a wide grin, and gave me a quick hug. It startled me; I knew she was a touchy-feely type, but not this much. Did she really think now was the right time to be my best buddy? She moved on quickly, but I was still confused. No one, not even someone as innocent as her, would do something like that so out of the blue. Conspiracy theories began to pop into my head one by one, getting wilder as they did so. From betrayal to implanting a secret tracker on my back, I soon found my head swirling with the craziest scenes and plots I had ever thought of. I realized I was just being paranoid; someone like her wouldn't do that. Would she?
"Finn!" Nyxie disrupted my train of thought and I returned to reality with a jolt. The line was moving forward now, the curtain opening. It was time to go out onto the stage. I walked quickly to catch up, reminded of the parade as the bright light approached. It would soon swallow me up, washing my skin in it's yellow glow. When it did, I realized that these interviews weren't so different from the parade. A crowd had gathered in seats ahead of the stage, where twenty-four empty seats were set out in a line. At the head of this line was a fake-looking, mint-green haired man. He looked about thirty, maybe forty years old, but the amount of make-up on him was visible even to my eyes. He almost looked...fake. Something you would see in one of those fancy magazines the safetyguards bought with them from the Capitol. When you thought about it, I suppose he was.
One by one, we sat down at our seats, the bright lights increasing in intensity as the cameras focused on us. I found myself glancing over at Nyxie, trying to see if she was in any pain. It didn't seem like it; it looked like her bravest face was on as her tight and short strapless orange dress glinted in the light, the black feathers adorned at the top twitching as she moved. When she sat, however, I saw the slightest bit of stiffness in her movement. Seeing me staring, she shot me a quick, harsh look, and I immediately averted my eyes. If anything was going to give it away, it was my staring.
"I welcome you, ladies and gentlemen," The green-haired man announced, standing. The claps from the crowd went quiet, "To the official interviews with the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games! I am Festus Dudarian, your host, and these," He gestured to us, "Are our wonderful contestants!" The claps began again. Nudging Nyxie's leg, I shot them my most charming smile, or at least something similar. I wasn't really sure; survival had always been my main priority, rather than looks. I suppose, in that way, I was like my mother. What I had heard of her, at least. "Yes, yes, stunning, aren't they? Now, each tribute will be allotted ten minutes each and will be asked as many questions as we can fit within that time. Is everyone ready?" There was another round of applause, and Festus grinned, showing off a picture perfect smile, "Great. So, let's begin!"
For the first ten or so minutes, I was attentive, trying my hardest to look like I was paying at least some mind to the other tributes. But my politeness began to wear thin after a while and before I knew it, the District Eleven girl in front of me was speaking. I managed to catch some info, though; Red's name was really Phoebe, the two District One tributes were named Ryken and Diamond, the tributes from District Two introduced themselves as Sears and Emme, and the District Four boy was called Strato. Strange names, I found myself thinking. Compared to the names back in District Twelve, which were mainly nature based or with some special meaning, these teens seemed to be named after the strangest things their parents could think of. No doubt there were even stranger names around, too.
"So, what's your name?" Festus asked, smiling down at the small District Eleven girl.
"Fawn," She replied simply, her voice soft and shy. Judging by her small, young-ish looks and her shy nature, I could tell she would be a favorite. From what Crym and the others had told me, the Capitol people were suckers for small and cute. Like kittens, apparently. That, and the other extreme; slick and sexy. I got the feeling they were going for the latter with me.
"Nice to meet you, Fawn. What do you consider yourself best at, in terms of skills?"
"Climbing trees," answered Fawn, and the crowd let out a soft laugh, like when a toddler gives you a soup made of earth and all it's creatures.
"Oh ho, sweetie, that's cute. But that's not an actual skill."
"I would like to see you try and beat me," The look of surprise on the faces of Festus and his crowd was hilarious. No one had expected such a harsh reply from a small girl like her.
"Well, that's nice. But I'm afraid we've run out of time with you, honey."
"Just you wait and see, Festus. Wait and see."
"Right." A smirk began to spread across my face. Fawn was smarter than she looked. Maybe a small girl like her wouldn't make such a bad ally. "Moving on! Our District Twelve male tribute. What's your name, son?"
"Finnick Everdeen, but you can just call me Finn. And don't call me son," I added the last bit automatically, then regretted it. That was part of my old attitude; if I wanted to earn the crowd's favor, I had to act nice. I flashed them a small smile and was fairly certain I caught a group of girls around my age smiling back.
"Fine, then. So, what do you consider your special skill, Finn?"
"I..." I paused. What was my special skill? Despite three days of hard training, I still hadn't mastered any of the weapons. I hadn't killed anyone yet, but I had gotten pretty close. So I came up with the first skill I could think of, "Hand to hand combat."
"Oh really? Not many people say that."
"Well I'm a little different, Festus."
He laughed at that, "You sure are. We saw that at the announcement in your home District, Twelve, you got into a bit of an argument with your escort, Tinker Finkel. What was that about?"
"Oh nothing, Festus," I replied, although really I was thinking the opposite. I hated how unfair, how cruel this was. But the Capitol didn't want to hear that. "I was just a little surprised, that's all."
"I'm sure you were. Even more so when you, of all people, were chosen for the Hunger Games, no?"
Suddenly, I found my patience had snapped. I couldn't stand how ignorant, how completely oblivious these people were. They didn't see how horrible, how torturous this was. Sure, I couldn't tell them that straight up, but I could surprise them with something else, at least. "Actually, no, I wasn't, Festus. Not when I heard Miss Primrose had picked them herself."
"Why? You had no idea this was going to happen. Why weren't you surprised?"
"Because, you see, this is the truth. Primrose Mellark, your precious little Overlord, is my sister," The crowd gave a collective, dramatic gasp. I turned my head, smiling sweetly at the cameras, "Hear that, Prim? You may not have surprised me, but I think I sure as hell just surprised you."
"Sorry, sorry!" I heard a familiar voice cry out from behind me. Glancing backward, I saw Phoenix emerged from the shadows, her loose, sequined dress glittering in the light like fish scales. I suppose that made sense, her being from District Four and everything. I could help but notice, with a pang of pity, how much tighter the other dresses were compared to hers. While the other girls wore provocative things that barely left anything to the imagination, hers was almost like...something you might wear to a wedding, or church, minus the sequins. Not so surprisingly, the Capitol weren't fond of girls with a stomach.
As the orange-haired girl passed, she spotted me, and paused momentarily. "Hiya, Finn!" She greeted with a wide grin, and gave me a quick hug. It startled me; I knew she was a touchy-feely type, but not this much. Did she really think now was the right time to be my best buddy? She moved on quickly, but I was still confused. No one, not even someone as innocent as her, would do something like that so out of the blue. Conspiracy theories began to pop into my head one by one, getting wilder as they did so. From betrayal to implanting a secret tracker on my back, I soon found my head swirling with the craziest scenes and plots I had ever thought of. I realized I was just being paranoid; someone like her wouldn't do that. Would she?
"Finn!" Nyxie disrupted my train of thought and I returned to reality with a jolt. The line was moving forward now, the curtain opening. It was time to go out onto the stage. I walked quickly to catch up, reminded of the parade as the bright light approached. It would soon swallow me up, washing my skin in it's yellow glow. When it did, I realized that these interviews weren't so different from the parade. A crowd had gathered in seats ahead of the stage, where twenty-four empty seats were set out in a line. At the head of this line was a fake-looking, mint-green haired man. He looked about thirty, maybe forty years old, but the amount of make-up on him was visible even to my eyes. He almost looked...fake. Something you would see in one of those fancy magazines the safetyguards bought with them from the Capitol. When you thought about it, I suppose he was.
One by one, we sat down at our seats, the bright lights increasing in intensity as the cameras focused on us. I found myself glancing over at Nyxie, trying to see if she was in any pain. It didn't seem like it; it looked like her bravest face was on as her tight and short strapless orange dress glinted in the light, the black feathers adorned at the top twitching as she moved. When she sat, however, I saw the slightest bit of stiffness in her movement. Seeing me staring, she shot me a quick, harsh look, and I immediately averted my eyes. If anything was going to give it away, it was my staring.
"I welcome you, ladies and gentlemen," The green-haired man announced, standing. The claps from the crowd went quiet, "To the official interviews with the tributes for the 74th Hunger Games! I am Festus Dudarian, your host, and these," He gestured to us, "Are our wonderful contestants!" The claps began again. Nudging Nyxie's leg, I shot them my most charming smile, or at least something similar. I wasn't really sure; survival had always been my main priority, rather than looks. I suppose, in that way, I was like my mother. What I had heard of her, at least. "Yes, yes, stunning, aren't they? Now, each tribute will be allotted ten minutes each and will be asked as many questions as we can fit within that time. Is everyone ready?" There was another round of applause, and Festus grinned, showing off a picture perfect smile, "Great. So, let's begin!"
For the first ten or so minutes, I was attentive, trying my hardest to look like I was paying at least some mind to the other tributes. But my politeness began to wear thin after a while and before I knew it, the District Eleven girl in front of me was speaking. I managed to catch some info, though; Red's name was really Phoebe, the two District One tributes were named Ryken and Diamond, the tributes from District Two introduced themselves as Sears and Emme, and the District Four boy was called Strato. Strange names, I found myself thinking. Compared to the names back in District Twelve, which were mainly nature based or with some special meaning, these teens seemed to be named after the strangest things their parents could think of. No doubt there were even stranger names around, too.
"So, what's your name?" Festus asked, smiling down at the small District Eleven girl.
"Fawn," She replied simply, her voice soft and shy. Judging by her small, young-ish looks and her shy nature, I could tell she would be a favorite. From what Crym and the others had told me, the Capitol people were suckers for small and cute. Like kittens, apparently. That, and the other extreme; slick and sexy. I got the feeling they were going for the latter with me.
"Nice to meet you, Fawn. What do you consider yourself best at, in terms of skills?"
"Climbing trees," answered Fawn, and the crowd let out a soft laugh, like when a toddler gives you a soup made of earth and all it's creatures.
"Oh ho, sweetie, that's cute. But that's not an actual skill."
"I would like to see you try and beat me," The look of surprise on the faces of Festus and his crowd was hilarious. No one had expected such a harsh reply from a small girl like her.
"Well, that's nice. But I'm afraid we've run out of time with you, honey."
"Just you wait and see, Festus. Wait and see."
"Right." A smirk began to spread across my face. Fawn was smarter than she looked. Maybe a small girl like her wouldn't make such a bad ally. "Moving on! Our District Twelve male tribute. What's your name, son?"
"Finnick Everdeen, but you can just call me Finn. And don't call me son," I added the last bit automatically, then regretted it. That was part of my old attitude; if I wanted to earn the crowd's favor, I had to act nice. I flashed them a small smile and was fairly certain I caught a group of girls around my age smiling back.
"Fine, then. So, what do you consider your special skill, Finn?"
"I..." I paused. What was my special skill? Despite three days of hard training, I still hadn't mastered any of the weapons. I hadn't killed anyone yet, but I had gotten pretty close. So I came up with the first skill I could think of, "Hand to hand combat."
"Oh really? Not many people say that."
"Well I'm a little different, Festus."
He laughed at that, "You sure are. We saw that at the announcement in your home District, Twelve, you got into a bit of an argument with your escort, Tinker Finkel. What was that about?"
"Oh nothing, Festus," I replied, although really I was thinking the opposite. I hated how unfair, how cruel this was. But the Capitol didn't want to hear that. "I was just a little surprised, that's all."
"I'm sure you were. Even more so when you, of all people, were chosen for the Hunger Games, no?"
Suddenly, I found my patience had snapped. I couldn't stand how ignorant, how completely oblivious these people were. They didn't see how horrible, how torturous this was. Sure, I couldn't tell them that straight up, but I could surprise them with something else, at least. "Actually, no, I wasn't, Festus. Not when I heard Miss Primrose had picked them herself."
"Why? You had no idea this was going to happen. Why weren't you surprised?"
"Because, you see, this is the truth. Primrose Mellark, your precious little Overlord, is my sister," The crowd gave a collective, dramatic gasp. I turned my head, smiling sweetly at the cameras, "Hear that, Prim? You may not have surprised me, but I think I sure as hell just surprised you."
Literature
Right Hand, Left Hand
I wish
being a lesbian were like
being left-handed.
Whenever someone notices
you writing a cheque
or doodling
or opening a door
And they exclaim:
"You're left-handed?"
I wish it were as simple as that.
When it's funny
and I laugh, panicking.
Such stuff punchlines are made on,
that such a casual,
integral,
part of myself
has the spotlight shone on it,
And revealed (they think)
their own ignorance,
(How wonderful it is to enlighten someone
by being.)
And yet I never hear the questions
that logically spring to mind:
"Won't you have trouble with the gearshift
on a car?"
"How do you use scissors?"
"Can you even write
wi
Literature
Pansexuality
"Pansexuals are bisexuals
who are just fancy snobs
in need for a 'cooler' word
to fancily name their flaws"
I've heard this said so many times
and yet believe it be untrue
it's scared people telling lies
people scared of something new
First of all I'd like to say
sexuality isn't wrong
there is no need to point it out
and call it a flaw
It's a normal part of us
how nature let's us come
there's homosexuality in all living species
and homophobia in one
Now for there difference
of pansexual and bi
Bisexuals usually have tendencies
Pans give everyone a try
We don't care
if you're from here or there
don't mind the colour of your hair
or the ki
Literature
Tight jeans and Theatrical boys
I pull up in his dad's driveway
and the boy sitting on the stoop looks like
Saint Exupery's treasured little prince.
When he climbs inside my used Sentra,
I tell him about this quirky realization.
"You're both so cute and opinionated."
He grins and replies that it's his favorite book
to read when life is particularly rough.
Cappuccino sips and playful shoves
convert the evening into something
brilliantly unstable and devastatingly 'teenager'.
I want to kiss him violently, so we can stop this
annoying game of cat and mouse.
But instead, we discuss music
and other topics that make me feel childish.
He asks where I would go if I could
telep
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