Just a bunch of little drabble like stories I came up with. Read and review please! It will make me write more!
Fillers: to explain the unexplained
Dear Diary: 1
She never told anyone about it. It was her darkest secret. Although it seemed insignificant it was a big deal to her. Johanna Mason was not one for talking. She hated having to explain anything to anyone. It was so much easier to just pretend like her feelings and emotions weren't there. Unfortunately this did not always work. After she won her games and her family had been killed Johanna kept a small blue pocket journal with her at all times. She didn't write elaborate stories or how her day went. Sometimes she'd just write a word. A single word; sometimes she wrote a sentence. Then there were other days she'd tear pages from the journal. Every day she opened that journal, it was the only thing that reminded her that she was indeed human.
Her name was Margret
Three in the morning and he was still here. Usually by this time they were asleep and he had pleased them, gotten his secrets and fled. Not tonight though, no. Tonight he'd stay with her, with Margret. Finnick never bothered to know them by name; just as children don't desire to learn the names of monsters. No one wants to be on a personal level with a monster. It was different this time. Finnick did not only know her name but her mother's name and her father's name and even the number to her childhood home. Margret Vincent loved reading books about adventures and the old world as she referred to it as. She went on and on about freedom, love and the beauty of life before her. Finnick didn't understand this, not only was this girl talking crazy ideas about an Earth driven mad by obsessions and power but she never once asked him to take off his clothes. Margret never even touched him. Four in the morning and he was still here. She was asleep but Finnick couldn't leave, not now. Margret Vincent was alone in the world. All she really wanted was someone to talk to, even if it was just for a little while. He'd stay until morning so he could say goodbye and tell her he'd remember her name. Finnick learned of her execution months afterward. President Snow discovered her involvement with the rebellion and ordered his niece to be executed at once. Although Snow never listened to his niece and erased her from memory Finnick did remember Margret Vincent. It didn't matter that she was related to a blood thirsty killer, she was still just a depressed lonely woman who just wanted a friend to share her words with.
Father to Daughter
Clove was supposed to be a boy. That's the only reason her father married her mother; so she could give him a son that he could train for the Hunger Games. Needless to say they did receive a son. Her mother had a difficult time trying to get pregnant and when she finally did the doctor said it was a true miracle. Of course when Clove was born her father was less than thrilled but that didn't stop him. Every morning he still woke her up for combat practice. In the afternoon they'd go for a run and in the evening Clove's favorite, knife throwing. After time they grew fond of each other. Not quite lovingly like father and daughter but friends. When it was time to say goodbye Clove did something she thought she wasn't capable of, she cried. Her mother didn't come to say goodbye. She hated that the games were something her child desired to take part in one day. As for her father for the first time he saw his little girl. His innocent, beautiful, darling daughter. If Clove had known that would be the first and last time she'd ever embrace her father she would have said "I love you Daddy."
Pictures
Dr. Aurelius gave Peeta a camera to help him recover after the hijacking. He told Peeta to photograph everything that he never wanted to forget and or the things he wish he could remember again. After awhile Dr. Aurelius would look over the photos. Some of Peeta's photographs consisted of flowers, children laughing, stars, recipes, sunsets; but most of his pictures were of Katniss.
Thief
Stealing was an art form. An art that she had mastered. One day at school during lunch a boy with a plastic bag full of round indigo colored berries that glistened caught her eye. She had these berries before, they were called nectarous berries. She traced the corner of her lips with the tip of her tongue. When she stayed out of trouble her grandmother would treat her to some. Nectarous berries were her absolute favorite. She had to have them. During nutrition class while the boy was conversing with another student she carefully opened his lunch pail and slid out the bag of berries. After class she wasted no time indulging in them. If only she had listened to the lesson that day. She would have learned that nectarous berries have a striking resemblance to Nightlock berries.
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