Post by countlivin on Jun 14, 2019 4:55:33 GMT
Chapter 24: Goodbye
Marten Lewis
Marten had never liked living in Four, but it was his home. It was all he had ever known. According to Mr. Bishoppe, Marten had been missing out his whole life. He didn't need the man to tell him what he'd already known since the day he was born. Kids from Four were born tougher than kids from the Capitol. He doubted Marc Bishoppe had ever tasted blood before. He'd seen plenty on TV, but he didn't know what it felt like to have it on his hands.
"I think you're going to like it in the Capitol, son." Marc smiled through his well-coifed mustache. "There is enough food, just one supper will feed your whole family for a week."
Marten smiled back joylessly. He tried to keep the conversation polite, even though a large part of him wanted to drop it right there in the middle of town. "With all due respect, I doubt that. My family's fifty-seven and counting."
"Counting up or down?" He chuckled. When Marten didn't follow suit, he coughed and knew he had crossed a line. Marten liked him on the other side of it.
The winds had changed that week. They blew calmly as a short breeze earlier, but now they were fast and brisk. It was almost as if the air itself was just as aligned against him as the Capitol was. He reached up and held his hat closely to his scalp as the wind attempted to pry it from him.
The part of District Four that contained the Lewis house was calm. The dirt felt good under his feet. It meant he still had the strength to walk. On one side of the path were other wealthy houses and neighbors, and on the other side the leaves brushed together and the crickets sang and the frogs chirped in their ponds leaving the beautiful nighttime ambience that Marten so loved about this place. From the look on Bishoppe's face as he swatted away a fly, Marten could tell he didn't see it the same way. He would be giving all of this up within the hour. He took every moment and every thought he had to say goodbye to it. He knew it would be the last time he would ever see it.
"What is it like to go fishing?" Bishoppe asked from beside him. Marten looked over and saw the face of a man just trying to make conversation. "I can see you were part of a business." He pointed to Marten's orange hat.
"Why do you ask?"
"We don't have fish in the Capitol," he replied plainly. "We have lakes and ponds, but animal rights groups petitioned to have the fish removed. What is it like to stand in a real river?"
Animal rights group? Marten laughed internally. The Capitol was handing out rights to fish when they slaughtered their own people on live television? That cemented the notion in his mind: he would never enjoy the Capitol or any of its hypocrisies.
"It's about as you'd expect," Marten replied. "Lots of waiting. A little bit of action every now and then if you're lucky. It takes patience."
"Patience…" Bishoppe laughed briefly. "My wife tells me I don't have an ounce of the stuff." They kept on the road through the forest and the night until the faintest light could be seen on the edge of the horizon, where the Justice Building was. Marten was sure it was close to five in the morning. Of course, with Four being one of the furthest Districts from the Capitol, he had to board the train at this ungodly hour to make it there at the same time as the tributes from the other Districts. Bishoppe broke the silence after it had become painful for him. "I think you're very brave."
"What?"
He wiped a strand of black hair that had fallen down from his obvious toupee. "You're going into the Games. I don't think I could handle the stress. You're very courageous for someone your age."
Even though Marten could freely use his arms, he still felt as though he were handcuffed and being led by the neck. Coming up from a family who grew up in the water, captivity didn't sit well with him. This wasn't bravery. "I didn't have a choice," Marten snarled.
"I was just trying to compliment you." Marc Bishoppe seemed hurt. As they closely approached the Justice Building, he began to slow down and stopped to reach into his jacket. "I was told to deliver this to you before we arrived in District Four. So here you are."
He pulled out an expensive-looking envelope. Marten could barely see, but he held it in the air, using the light seeping through the trees to make out what it said. It was in a form of lettering Marten had never seen before. The letters were flowing as if they had been written by a quill. Whoever had sent it clearly spent a great deal of time with their calligraphy. He stared at the words for a few more moments before finally deciphering them.
They read, from top to bottom, "From a Friend."
[A. Open the letter.]
[B. Save it for later.]
(I'm gonna stop doing the polls. Just leave your answer in a comment.)
Marten Lewis
Marten had never liked living in Four, but it was his home. It was all he had ever known. According to Mr. Bishoppe, Marten had been missing out his whole life. He didn't need the man to tell him what he'd already known since the day he was born. Kids from Four were born tougher than kids from the Capitol. He doubted Marc Bishoppe had ever tasted blood before. He'd seen plenty on TV, but he didn't know what it felt like to have it on his hands.
"I think you're going to like it in the Capitol, son." Marc smiled through his well-coifed mustache. "There is enough food, just one supper will feed your whole family for a week."
Marten smiled back joylessly. He tried to keep the conversation polite, even though a large part of him wanted to drop it right there in the middle of town. "With all due respect, I doubt that. My family's fifty-seven and counting."
"Counting up or down?" He chuckled. When Marten didn't follow suit, he coughed and knew he had crossed a line. Marten liked him on the other side of it.
The winds had changed that week. They blew calmly as a short breeze earlier, but now they were fast and brisk. It was almost as if the air itself was just as aligned against him as the Capitol was. He reached up and held his hat closely to his scalp as the wind attempted to pry it from him.
The part of District Four that contained the Lewis house was calm. The dirt felt good under his feet. It meant he still had the strength to walk. On one side of the path were other wealthy houses and neighbors, and on the other side the leaves brushed together and the crickets sang and the frogs chirped in their ponds leaving the beautiful nighttime ambience that Marten so loved about this place. From the look on Bishoppe's face as he swatted away a fly, Marten could tell he didn't see it the same way. He would be giving all of this up within the hour. He took every moment and every thought he had to say goodbye to it. He knew it would be the last time he would ever see it.
"What is it like to go fishing?" Bishoppe asked from beside him. Marten looked over and saw the face of a man just trying to make conversation. "I can see you were part of a business." He pointed to Marten's orange hat.
"Why do you ask?"
"We don't have fish in the Capitol," he replied plainly. "We have lakes and ponds, but animal rights groups petitioned to have the fish removed. What is it like to stand in a real river?"
Animal rights group? Marten laughed internally. The Capitol was handing out rights to fish when they slaughtered their own people on live television? That cemented the notion in his mind: he would never enjoy the Capitol or any of its hypocrisies.
"It's about as you'd expect," Marten replied. "Lots of waiting. A little bit of action every now and then if you're lucky. It takes patience."
"Patience…" Bishoppe laughed briefly. "My wife tells me I don't have an ounce of the stuff." They kept on the road through the forest and the night until the faintest light could be seen on the edge of the horizon, where the Justice Building was. Marten was sure it was close to five in the morning. Of course, with Four being one of the furthest Districts from the Capitol, he had to board the train at this ungodly hour to make it there at the same time as the tributes from the other Districts. Bishoppe broke the silence after it had become painful for him. "I think you're very brave."
"What?"
He wiped a strand of black hair that had fallen down from his obvious toupee. "You're going into the Games. I don't think I could handle the stress. You're very courageous for someone your age."
Even though Marten could freely use his arms, he still felt as though he were handcuffed and being led by the neck. Coming up from a family who grew up in the water, captivity didn't sit well with him. This wasn't bravery. "I didn't have a choice," Marten snarled.
"I was just trying to compliment you." Marc Bishoppe seemed hurt. As they closely approached the Justice Building, he began to slow down and stopped to reach into his jacket. "I was told to deliver this to you before we arrived in District Four. So here you are."
He pulled out an expensive-looking envelope. Marten could barely see, but he held it in the air, using the light seeping through the trees to make out what it said. It was in a form of lettering Marten had never seen before. The letters were flowing as if they had been written by a quill. Whoever had sent it clearly spent a great deal of time with their calligraphy. He stared at the words for a few more moments before finally deciphering them.
They read, from top to bottom, "From a Friend."
[A. Open the letter.]
[B. Save it for later.]
(I'm gonna stop doing the polls. Just leave your answer in a comment.)
