Hey guys. So this is unlike anything I've ever written before, really. If you read this please review. One-shot. Takes place at a reaping in District 11 from some random Hunger Games. Okay... READ! :)
Somewhere yonder, in the great distance, past the pollution, districts, smoke, and bustle of the modern world, lives a princess. She lives in the stereotypical castle, tall and thick and intricate and made of stone. With her lives her father, and the rest of her family, loving and caring and all of that classic stuff. And her beautiful prince, tall and handsome, smooth, a knight in shining armor. And she wears a long, flowing pink dress, and her hair swims fantastically down to her waste, and her pretty features are set in a permanent knowledge on her face. She knows all. She is all. She is not real.
But I am. I am just a girl, and that's all I have to say for the matter. I guess there might be someone, somewhere, close to a princess, but it's simple, really: princesses aren't real. Not in books, not in movies, not in old fairytales. Never real. Never is a girl who is beautiful inside and out, who has everything imaginable, and who loves for the rest of the world. Never will be, is, or has been.
And that's the point that I have been thinking about lately. I can't set my expectations too high here, because princesses aren't real. Really, I'm just a girl, as I said. We're all just people, and we should just respect each other as people, I think, because we're all the same. None of us are princesses, or princes, or anything like that, so we can't expect them to be. People, that's what we are. People are very real. People are all around, pressing in on you with their reality and their thoughts, troubles, feelings, insecurities. People are the real deal.
Anyway, here I am, girl extraordinaire. Next to me is my friend, Juno. I like her name because it's different, and I like different names. Most people these days have different names, except for me, because I know someone else who has my name, which is bad, because I don't like to share.
But that is not even what I'm thinking about, right now. Right now, I'm nervous. I'm so nervous that my hands are sweaty and my neck and my back and especially my forehead, and my heart is beating fast, an incessant thud that I can hear loud in my ears. And my thoughts are crazy and wild, running amuck and messing things up in my head, and I can't organize them, but that's okay because I'm scared to organize them, because then I have to think, which I don't like to do too much. And my brain is drowning in worries, and concern, and I'm so upset!- but mostly nervous, because this could be the end. My thoughts are an incoherent blur in my head, of colors and words and confusion. And as I said, I don't like to think, because it's a lot of work and then I can never seem to stop until I'm satisfied with my thoughts.
My hands are shaking, and even if I close my eyes, which I love to do because I am a dreamer, I am in a whirlwind, and I feel like I can't breathe, and someone, I know, is going to die.
But I keep my eyes open even though I don't want too, because it would be bad to have them closed at a time like this. Juno looks no better off than me. Her brow is low on her eyes and her mouth is open in a little o, like she's thinking, okay, this is it.
The escort opens her mouth, looking down at the paper in her hands, and my breathe catches in my throat, and isn't released, and my chest is tight, and I wasn't to collapse and curl in bed and sleep like everything will always be okay.
"Vasliki Geotis."
And then I'm breathing, and I'm relieved, and happy, and so, so relieved that I still can't think, I can just feel relieved and content. Beside me, Juno's breathe wooshes out and she glances at me, relaxed, now.
But then I see a girl who I know, because out in the fields we sometimes cross paths and say hi, and anyway, this girl is walking up the stairs leading to the stage. Separating herself from the crowd. A woman is crying, shocked and upset, and I'm sure her mind is a whirlwind now, like mine was. And also, a man is standing there, lost and confused, as if his whole world had been stripped away from him. I know these are her parents.
And the girl, she looks determined and brave. Fury is etched across her tight lips and she's frowning, but she tries to cover it up and seem nonchalant. But I know that only too well. I can see how tense she is, and how determined she is to survive and return to her parents and bring back all she ever had, and more.
She is walking up, shaking hands with the escort, and standing there, and I know she will be on television. This moment, televised.
And she is just a girl too. And her parents are just people. Because like I said, there are no princesses.
And then I don't feel so relieved. I feel worried for this girl, and guilty for not have being chosen, and awful for her parents, and mad at the Capitol, and angry about the reapings, and really the whole concept of the Hunger Games, and I'm angry that we must live in such a world.
Well, I think, this is the real world.
Princesses don't live in awful, modernized, real worlds like this. Because princesses aren't real. They live in the past, in perfect worlds with no Hunger Games to worry them, no reapings. No set courses of life that chase away their dreams. Just dreaming, and achieving, and being. Being a princess.
The girl stands there, very straight, like she's all tall and important. I don't think I've ever seen a more determined, brave, and foolproof face, positive she would succeed. And her parents are holding hands, shaking their heads sadly, watching her. And she looks at them and nods, and they nod back and squeeze each other's hands tighter. And I know she will try as hard as she can to be the best she can be and survive, and she knows this too, and her parents know. And I know she can do it. And she knows, and her parents know, and everyone knows, and if they try, everyone can do it. (win the Hunger Games)
And then I realized that she's not just a girl. She's more than that, she's her own self. Her own beautiful, unique self, like we all are. She's maybe a princess.
Juno nods grimly next to me. She has ridiculously short, thick, curly blonde hair, and a heart shaped face, and dark skin, and blue eyes. And she looks at me, she's giving me a look, like well, it happened. It's over. But we know it's not over because the Hunger Games are still going on. And I look at her, and I look at our arms pressed against each other, our different shades of dark skin looking very light beneath the sun.
And that made me realize that I'm more than a girl too, if I want to be. And we're all more than just people. We're different. We're anything. The future is not set in stone. Stereotypes aren't real. We can be whatever we want, fill our shadows with whatever image or person we want to. We can accomplish anything. We can be princesses.
The girl looks out at the crows and smiles, like she has a secret that we'd all love to know, but don't.
Together, we can change the world.
Well there you have it. If you just read this PLEASE review. It will make me happy and I really need some feedback because this must be the most bizzare thing I've ever writtena and I have no idea if it's good or not. Thanks!
~fRANkiEGirL61