The Third Annual Writer's Game: Roots

Panem et Circenses | Males

District Four - Eton Morgan

The trees around me shimmer in the early light, rays of the sun catching on leftover rain from the previous night. The dawn was warm, chilled only by a slight breeze, but my blood ran colder than the dusk. Memories of yesterday's bloodbath mixed with the haunting painting of the bloodied children race around my mind.

My hands still sting from my outburst of anger, and I can still see the mutilated trunk in front of me, smothered in dirt, sweat and blood. White gauze, to the other career's disapproval, is wrapped around my shredded palm. But I know it was worth it. I needed that rush of pain to push me forward.

The tip of my paintbrush feels coarse against my unscathed palm, the bristles tainted with blood and dirt, vying to be cleaned in the river. Vying to paint with quality material once more. Looking up at the leaves once more, I feel a pang in my chest as I remember what I left behind. The vibrant greens and yellows smile back at me every once in awhile revealing a happy red fruit or a purple hummingbird. The browns fade to the backdrop, never coming forward to the front.

I left behind color and life, instead replacing it with a dull reds, browns, and death.

A rock crashed into the trunk of the tree with the bloodied children painting, startling me out of my train of thought. "We've already lost two careers, and you're telling me you 'lost the food.' What do you mean, 'we lost the food?' How could that have happened? I told all of you to collect food to survive. Does survival mean nothing to you?" The girl from two, Hermia, whirls around to face the youngest in our pack, Jackie, and the District One female behind her.

In turn, Jackie rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, "Well, lost means we can't find it, and all the food was the small packages we collected yesterday. So basically, someone took the food during one of our shifts. And personally, I think it was Eton. He seemed out of it yesterday."

The girl from One quickly nods in agreement, so as to not shift the blame onto herself.

Staring down at my paintbrush in my hands, I don't even bother to try to defend myself. I know that the rest of the Careers are irrational and besides, Jackie was right, I was out of it yesterday. I'm out of it today. And I will most likely be out of it for the rest of my life, however short that may be. And judging by the way things are going, it could be fairly short. Not that it would matter. Die today, die tomorrow, no big deal. Either way, I'm dead and my life would have had no meaning.

I glance up at Hermia and Jackie for a second before looking up into the treetops. I stare, soaking in the beautiful scenery, gathering ideas for my next painting. The sunlight filters through the various levels of leaves before landing in splotches on the forest floor, illuminating only a fraction of what lies there. The brilliant green of the grass and leaves stands out against the soft, mellow brown, showcasing every other color that happened to lay there.

I miss the colors I used to own.

"So, what happened to all the food we stockpiled? Did those other two die for nothing?" Hermia shouts at me. Without changing my expression, I lower my gaze and stare her down.

"The other two did nothing to help us nor themselves. We didn't cause their death. So yes, technically, they did die for nothing. As for the food, I had second watch. You had third watch, correct? So was the food there when you were? If not, you should have noticed. If it was, then there's proof it wasn't me," I rub my paint brush along my palm, the coarse bristles irritating my cuts through the gauze, but I don't care. I ignore them and press down harder. I'm itching to paint, but now is not the time. "Either way, we need food. And we should probably get going sooner rather than later to find food."