A shocked look on one when passing a cold, crippled body, might draw only unwanted emotions, or the occasional person shouting 'there's another one down!' and then you here the cannon go, the cannon that sounds when another body is found. But the main 'suspect of death' is from neglect and a cold breeze, which left the tear marks down her face, her skin as pale as one seen with pneumonia. The monstrous trees can make woods dark, too dark for shadows. Her body lay awkwardly across an old brick path that is far away from its intended goal, the finishing line. I guess she has been there for a while, the blood stains still apparent on the dry wood.
The hours have passed, leaving an unidentifiable girl, just a pack of bones, and rotting flesh, and the aroma of dirt in the air, vein-like fingers digging slightly into the cement. At the feet of the corpse lies a spear with the engraved word 'Cato' dyed, pastel pink, in the surrounding blood. A rather foolish thing to leave right next to a corpse, someone will take it for their district quicker than you can say 'Happy Hunger Games'.
Darkness of the night and light from a young girls soul, have concluded in creating a corpse with very little light left over, other than the light pigment in her skin. My feet rustle a little in certain places of the wood, I better keep out of them places, most are deliberate traps.
Her face is smooth, young hands turned grey, much like the feeling her family would of felt to see their little girl, their baby, lying awkward on the sharpest of bricks. Wooden slates make up for the fence, a quantity of them blood stained, and slightly crooked. The fence so high, wasting the warm sunbeams that gently flow through the trees. Much like being magnified, bouncing off a crooked fence.
The intense aroma of the dirt weaves its way into every space.
Several short, brown hairs have stuck, stubbornly, to the fence a little further up. Despite attempts from Cato, the suspected murderer, to remove every last one, to cover his doing; it is assumed he had given up, and that gave us the higher ground. Six steps to the right, and you are in the sun, stand approximately next to the body and a cloud of darkness comes above your head.
Behind the subtle pink, black and grey headband, were used shells from over a dozen bullets, some of the bullets still being unused. At first glance, they may appear quite blank, but later it comes together, this is a trap for people like us trying to load up our tribute. The bullets are arranged left to right, tallest to shortest.
The headband has a protective glass cover to prevent any people stumbling over the body and knocking out the bullets . A small cubic button stands against anyone trying to take anything without suffering the consequences. The corpse has been placed on its side so it is more likely to be pressed.
The deepest pocket contains a group of pocket knives – some large, heavy and thick, some small needles, encased in plastic covers, each with a sticker along the blade. On the floor, touching the right side of the arm is a large metal sphere, now identified as a grenade that makes a rather unpleasant scraping noise when nudged. A small puddle has been found containing dispersed blobs of saliva mixed with fresh blood to create a slimy trail in the direction of the forest.
"There's Another One Down!"
Wait for it..
BANG!