Nocturne for Piano, in E flat Major, Op. 9, No. 2
As my delicate fingers flew across the white, but slightly worn keys of our piano, my eyes caught sight of the view of the sky from my window. I was already evening. I slowly finished the phrase I was on in the song and stared at the orange-pink sky from my seat. The blend of colors that leaked from the sun shone perfection. The colors all complimented each other perfectly, and none of them were out of place. The golden light also slowly slivered it's way into the room I was in, creating a bittersweet feeling.
How can something as beautiful as the sun and it's colors, find it's way into a dreadful place like this...? I thought to myself, curling my fingers into a small fist and frowning. It had occurred to me that in District 12 there were a lot of things and people too worthy for where they had been placed by fate.
My mind jumped to the thought of Katniss. Since the 75th Hunger Games ended in the most unexpected way imaginable, people in District 12 had been anxious. Every now and then people would ask what exactly happened, and what was going to happen to them. Often they got so loud, I could hear them rooms away.
Pushing things I didn't want to think about away, I brushed through all the sheet music on my piano's music stand.
Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Debussy, Chopin...As soon as I hit the Chopin file I rustled through it. Katniss had always enjoyed the works by him. He was such a sad man, and it was reflected through what he composed. Maybe Katniss enjoyed sharing her what she really thought with someone like him.
I opened my book that had Nocturnes on the front and inspected the first song. It spilled and consisted of sadness, and just as it would get happier, the song went back to despair.
I prepared my hands, running how the song sounded quickly in my head, and then started when it felt right. As I played through the first page, memories of Katniss and I ran through my head.
I remembered a very recent memory, when she had come back after being a victor, she had shown me her craft and I had shown her mine. She attempted to teach me her wonderful skills with the bow and arrow. Surprisingly, she had laughed a bit whenever my posture looked funny, or an arrow went where I had not wanted to go, at all.
Then I showed her my piano playing, and I tried to teach her to play. I showed her where to put her fingers on all the keys. I had also noticed how rough her hands had gotten. They were riddled with callouses and not longer had the soft feeling that was supposed to be there at her age. We were different, in so many ways.
Social status, family, food, interests, skills, and the list went on and on in my head...
She really was the only friend, and the best friend I had. Even though I was quiet and people presumed me to be stuck-up because of my father, she gave me a chance.
While still in my song my eyes started to well up with small silent tears.
But I was then forced to stop.
A rumble slightly shook the ground. Moving my body minimally while I sat. I quickly stood up, but almost lost my balance from shock and wonder. I stumbled towards the window. The sky had now became a darker orange, but within it small bursts of light started to appear on the furthest edges of the town. Small figures in the sky started to get closer.
I ran out of the room, yelling for my father.
"Father! Father what is happening?!" I yelled to his already slightly-petrified face. He seemed to be slightly sweating. Holding his hands together.
"Something that we can not stop or run away from." I looked at him with sadness.
"This is our punishment, and more specifically Katniss and Peeta's, punishment for what they have done. The Capitol most likely can't stand it anymore. They feel so powerless. Everyone feels that they are too. This is their sign or message, that 'we are in power'." His voice had a strange tone of hopelessness.
I looked out the window closest to me which faced the roads of the town. People were crowding. Some stayed in their homes and looked out their windows, others were running as fast as they could. An avalanche of emotions hit me as all I could do was stare at the chaos. As time went by, the places the bombs were hitting grew closer and louder, and the shaking became more pronounced and frequent.
Suddenly, a rapid and urgent knock at the door came. I quickly looked at my father, unmoving, then went to open it myself.
I gasped at who it was.
"Gale? Why- or what are you doing here?" I said, shocked. Both by his sudden appearance at my door and how loud I had spoken. But he wasn't alone. With him was his own family, Katniss's mom, Prim and few more people.
"I'm getting as many as I can out of here before we're all goners. I know you were Katniss's friend. So I'm thinking you should be one of the first to leave." He said quickly, sounding like he was in a hurry. I first looked at my father, still as solid as a rock, then at the door of my mother's room. My face turned to sadness.
"I can't. I'm sorry. I'm staying here." I said with sadness in my voice. Gale looked at me, unbelieved. "What you mean you can't? Madge I'm giving you the chance to live-" He started to say urgently to me. But I had decided what I wanted. I decided what would be best.
"No. I'm sorry." Gale stared at me for a moment. Then turned away and ran, as the pack of people behind him also followed him. Almost every person with him looked at me with grief.
I closed the door, blocking out some of the noise that was happening from every side. My father then spoke.
"I will go down with this District, and with my wife and daughter." He nodded slowly. I leaned on the wall. Trying not to look outside, or back, at Gale and his offer.
I walked to the door to my mother's room and gently knocked.
"Madge, please, come in." I opened the door, to see her in her familiar sight. Bedridden. I sat down at the foot of the bed.
"I could hear glimpses of what happened. Why didn't you go, Madge?" She asked me with her soft, but weak voice. I felt like she already knew, but wanted to hear me say it.
"I just... I just thought that it'd be better to be with my family." She smiled faintly and then reached her hand out to me. I grasped it tightly. "Besides, father is staying, and you can not come. If I had gone I would've been all alone. Katniss may have been there, but... she's my only friend. She's basically fighting for her life and her family right now. I don't want to live with that grief that she also has. Furthermost, who knows what would happen to me. District 12 is all I've grown up with. I wouldn't last a second out there. I'd just have been another for Gale to take care for," I sadly laughed. The bombs then got increasingly louder and the shock and movement of our house got more violent and urgent. I looked around at the walls and floor, my heart skipping beats. Then I got up and moved the almost black curtain to my mother's room's window. Just some houses down the rows I could see fire. I stared. I could feel the light reflecting my glossy eyes. It was pure chaos. It was horrible. But I couldn't take my eyes off it.
Our two housekeepers got a bit restless and I could hear them start to softly weep. Not able to see anymore and with my eyes becoming wet, I closed the curtain. I ran out of my mother's room to my father. Then I quickly gave him a tight hug. He patted my head and smiled at me. Then I ran across to my mother and collapsed onto the bed to lay beside her. She gently stroked my blonde hair, pushing it behind my ears. The feelings of when I was younger swallowed me up.
"My little girl. Don't be sad." She said.
"But mother.. I can say goodbye to you. I can say everything that you mean to me right now. But I wanted to tell Katniss how much she meant to me as a friend. As my only friend." My tears started to fall more and more. I was only met with the comfort of my mother's hands. "Tell me then." I sniffled and thought.
"Katniss... Thank you for giving me a chance and teaching me so many things. You may have not directly taught me them, but just by watching you I learned. In the Hunger Games, I feared for you so much. I was prepared to see the end but you were different."
I could hear a high pitched sound. It felt like it was right next to my head, but grew louder with every small second.
"Tha-"
The last thing I could commit to my memory was the overwhelming pain that entered my body.
Nocturne for Piano, No. 2 in E flat Major, Op. 9, No. 2
