A/N I finally got around to writing this! So some of y'all might know I already had a 'Mockingjay Epilogue' type story, but it was really stupid. Even though it had some sentimental value, it was pretty poorly written and had some weird things happening. also some things you should now, this story will be loosely based off a couple of other Mockingjay stories called...
"When The Red X Is On The Door"
and
"Relighting The Fire"
Those two are by far my favorite Hunger Games stories so yeah. Thank you so much for clicking! Please enjoy!
Btw: I'm changing somethings from the book, such as the Primrose planing scene and things like that.
Gray
That's what swims before my eyes.
Gray
In-between black and white. An indistinguishable color.
My world turns into that one odd color. My mothers old knitting yarn, that once was a bright, strong shade of pink now looks dull like the sky during harsher winters. Whatever happened the colorful world before the Hungers Games and the war? What happened to the lively greens and blues and yellows that once dotted our lonesome country?
My busy yet empty mind swirls while I stare and the mesmerizing patterns of the fire in the pit before me. The respite of the rocking chair lulls me into a never-ending trance. The wool blanket wrapped around me thin body doesn't move as I sway back and forth.
Back and forth
Back and forth
My front door swings open bringing in my usual two guests and a new body. Greasy Sae and Alina and
Peeta.
As always I ignore the presence of my oldest acquaintances and stare into the mesmerizing flames. The clanking pots and pans tell me that my breakfast is starting. Bacon and eggs given to Sae from Rooba, the butcher. I even smell some sort pastry baking in my hardly used oven.
"Good like tryna' feed that girl," I hear Sae tell Peeta. "It's like tryna' put lipstick on one of them hogs." Peeta brushes off her concerns and walks over to me with a full plate anyway. The aroma of the meat and eggs and bread mixes excitedly in my nose but makes my stomach churn in disgust.
"Katniss," Peeta says, trying to meet my unwavering gaze. "Do you want anything to eat?" Greasy Sae tells us a quick good bye and leaves with Alina. I don't respond to my old friend. "Katniss." Peeta says, putting a familiar hand on my knee.
"No," I choke out, my voice hoarse and scratchy.
"You need to eat something. You look like a bag of bones." his attempt at humor is lost on me. Soon deciding that he's fighting a loosing battle, he settles himself on the armchair next to me. The silver fork he holds appears in front of me with a bite of scrambled eggs resting on it.
"No," I repeat a little clearer.
"Yes," Peeta insists.
"No," this time I mumble the word shifting slightly on the wooden chair.
"Yes," he moves the fork closer to my mouth.
"No!" I shout while slapping the utensil of Peeta's hands, catching him off guard. Our eyes meet. The solar boy and the lunar girl. The boy with the bread and the girl on fire. Two tributes. Lovers. Enemies. Mutts. Neighbors. Allis.
His blue eyed gaze stares into my lifeless ones.
"Katniss. Eat. Something. Now." Peeta demands, shoving a bite of toast into my mouth. The bread is bland and tastes like nothing. I resist the urge to spit it out because I do realize just how hungry I am. "Thank you," Peeta sighs, once I finished the bite.
"What are you doing?" I ask, following moments of silence.
"I'm trying to help you." Peeta tells me, softly.
"I thought you hated me." I say in reference to his hijacking, which he seems to have fared pretty well from.
"I don't hate you Katniss." the man before me is looks so different from before the Games and the War. His eyebrows have grown back but the scars on his face and neck don't seem to have faded. Nor have mine.
Peeta and I don't say anything more to each other the rest of that day. He feeds me tiny bites of food with only a little bit of restraint from me. Once the plate is emptied, he cleans in and leaves with a feather light kiss to my cheek. When nightfall arrive I force myself up from the Oak rocking chair and with my hands on the wall, make my way up to my old bedroom. I haven't been up to this level of the house in what seems like years. Prims' bedroom door is closed shut, as is my mothers. Only my room door is opened reveling my unmade bed.
I pay no mind to the mess on the floor, only stumble on my weak legs to my bed and fall into a restless sleep.
A/N I know it's short, but it's just the prolog. If this gets enough good feedback I'll continue it, if not it'll simply be deleted. Now as I said ^ up there, I'm changing something from the book but it will mostly remain true the original story.
Once again thank you for reading and I please leave a review if you liked it or not!
Ily and DFTBA!