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My Final Cannon. Shadows Of Blood
4
I remained passed out for half of the next day. I woke up a head ache brewing in my head. I imagined this is what a hangover must have been, but considering I had never had a hangover I didn't know. When I was 12 I had a few sips of District 6 wine before feeling wheezy, that day I remember promising never to touch alcohol at all. Not that I can anymore. The rest of the day drifted by, like a sliver of water drifting through the vast ocean. I remained wedged under the 3 rocks with stones scratching my skin and heat radiating down onto me. Myb head was heavy and felt as though it was not attached to my weak body. Blood literally boiled in inside of me searing my veins into a shrew sensation. My limbs were weak and easily breakable, the skin covering them had turned at ghastly yellow.
I dozed off again soon. My only dreams filled with blood, death and eerie stretching shadows. Shadows of hands reached for me. Their nails ripped my skin open effortlessly revealing blood. The creatures marvelled at my blood and we soon tearing at me as I screamed through them. Reduced to a body of blood and weary skin. Spiders leapt at me from under rocks as I approached a small body of a boy. I looked cautiously at him.
"Help me please. Help. Please, help." whispered the 12 year old. He was talking to himself more than me, murmuring softly thoughts of his death to himself. I carefully approached him, forgetting my blood indulguded state.
"Um, are-are you okay? I can help you, if you w-would like?" I whispered quietly, never a master of words. The boy was suddenly silent as I stood over him. I bent down peacefully and flipped his body to face me. That's when i screamed. The boy's eyes were spilling spiders from them. Millions grappled down his face, making his eyes nothing a pool of arachnid. His lips and ears too were flooding spiders from them. Soon the creatures covered his body. I desperately tried lifting the young boy, dragging him a few steps. Suddenly the spiders decentergrated him, as they became him. Arachnids carried him flesh off him, releasing my grasp as he fell flat to the ground. His bones shattered and spilled into the pile of spiders like shards of ice. I ran again. Away from the boy, away from his nightmarish body.
I suddenly woke up my scream muffled. Urgently sitting up me wacked my head against a thick rock. Automatically my hand scratched the area hit uncomfortably. The sun was now lowering with-in the sky. Since I had earlier learnt it never set, I decided it must have been early evening. My stomach lurched uncomfortably, as I realized no food had passed my dry lips. I jumped down half of the last of my water; soon I would need more my water supply could only last another day. Nibbling on the last of a packet of dried food, I leant back staring at the sky. As I finished my fake meal, the national anthem blared into the arena again. As I suspected the list of dead children followed; only the 10 boy's face stared down at me. It resembled a bull, his face bulky with muscle. Whoever (whatever) killed him must have come back injured from his death. Too tired to sleep I simply lay until my eyes fluttered shut again.
"Another day in the Hunger Games for me. Can't hold me enthusasuim." I yawned to myself, expecting someone to laugh. I opened my eyes' remembering i had no one to laugh, only me. I had to start moving again that day. I must have been starting to bore the Capitol audience simply sleeping on the verge of dying. Much too peaceful of a death for them. I felt a bit better, and that meant I had to move. Even if I was throwing up and bleeding from my heart, I had to do something that day. Throwing my peachy pack on my back, I struck a match and burnt the leftover food packet. "No evidence, keep moving. Remain silent. No allies." I repeated in my head, accompanying the rules I had set myself to survive. But no matter how many rules I had set myself; I couldn't survive. I wouldn't survive. I didn't survive.
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