Restless Souls.
A big house sits on top of a hill. The air seems to wither and turn stale inside it, worn wooden floorboards groaning by themselves and linen curtains blowing wildly against the open pane windows, neglectfully left open. These sounds belong to the night and travel up the staircase, penetrating a dark bedroom where a shivering body lays curled up under a single sheet.
The room begins to illuminate as the moon breaks free from the clouds, a large window by the bed giving way to its demure light. The figure looks to the light and frowns. "Its' never a full moon…" they mumble, turn their back to the crescent moon and try to ignore the sounds of the night.
Somewhere across the hill, lies another big house. The air is humid and laced with something toxic, worn wooden floorboards creaking with every heavy footed stumble a man makes out of his bedroom. The window he grabs for support is nailed shut, catching sight of the moon he whispers to himself "Well…good morning." and keeps on making sounds of the night himself, while preparing a midnight breakfast.
Two restless souls live on top a hill of bones, which used to make up a district. The night gets deeper and one falls into a fit of night terrors, the other falls into a puddle of their own vomit, but nothing changes. The moon casts an eye on both of them until the sun relieves her from her nightly duty, the two characters don't seek out the sun, they shun its rays and watch their skin turn sickly pale.
When its mid noon the man wakes and mutters profanities at his state, he picks up his tired old bones from the bathroom floor and drags himself into a shower. His head is spinning in infinite circles as he leans his head agains the cold tiles, the water turns into a blistering hot temperature but he does not seem to mind. He looks down at his shaking hands and tries to think of what he is supposed to do that day, but he cant remember. The stale smell of alcohol and rancid vomit penetrates his nostrils as soon as he steps out of the shower, his stomach churns and he dry heaves into the toilet, realising he is standing bare foot in his breakfast.
It is almost evening by the time the man is fully dressed, he stands in front his fridge which is covered in various pieces of paper, attached by magnets, glue and the occasional saliva. Ever since he started drinking again, his memory has been deteriorating, so much that he now resorts to writing things down he needs to do when he's sober enough to hold a pen. His hands shake as he finds today's list of to-do's;
April 3rd
-buy food
-buy booze
-clean up?
-KATNISS
The last reminder was written over and over again to make the name stand out, it sent a migraine to his head as his stomach churned uncomfortably. He grabbed his wallet and keys, but didn't bother locking his door.
Night had begun creeping behind him as he trudged through mud, he passed a familiar house and glanced at it, curtains trying to escape through the open windows and not a single light escaping from it, the house seemed to absorb all the light around it like a black hole, he suppressed a shiver.
He makes it to the food stall just in time, he purchases himself the basics; eggs, milk, bread and butter. Knowing that half of it will go stale for his lack of attention to it, but he buys another set of the same stock, along with strawberries, grapes, plums and some vegetables. He gets a single set of handmade shampoo, conditioner and soap that smell of fresh mango and peach, and on impulse grabs an old book and stuffs it into his bag. By the time he's done, the moon reflects on his long blond hair and the sound of glass bottles chiming in his bag gives him a broken and out of tune melody to walk to.
The sound disturbs the quiet existence of another, who began to shift in their bed and stretch their unused bones, their eyes narrowing at the sight of the moon as the broken tune seemed to only get closer. They sighed and spat out a single name "Haymitch." sounding more like a swear word, they groaned into their pillow and at that moment the door was kicked open and they heard a single lyric being sang;
"Sweetheart, I'm home!"
i have a thing for the moon, i have a thing for Haymitch, why not.
