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Egg's Random Stufflepuff: Short Stories. New series: The cost of Life
eggy900
Posts: 4,661 New Member
Velcome, velcome, to my new story thread of utter randomness! Please don't go all :hunf: on me if you haven't been in any of these HGs RPGs. This is just for fun! :XD: . Well, anyway, when I post some stories, feel free to tell me what you think, whether it be good or bad!
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◘Wolf: Where it all began
◘Under the apple tree
◘The Hanging Tree: Story Version
◘The Cost of Life: Chapter One
◘The Cost of Life: Chapter Two
Other People's ♥
☺Bebsie's
☺Sir Doctor Professor Alberto's
Can't wait to read some of your stuff, Egg.
YAYYAYYAYYAYYAYYAY!
Everything was grey. Just grey. The only colours were the colours of 3 pairs of haunting purple eyes; 1 belonging to a 2-year-old, 1 to a newborn, and one to a weary, dying mother, her face slick with blood, sweat, rain and tears. Under the cover of the storm, a man escaped District 5, fleeing to his relatives in 3 and abandoning his partner in her hour of need. The woman slipped, falling to the ground in a puddle and choking up blood, her newborn staring at her with blank eyes.
"Kayleigh...go. Please." she begged.
The two year old girl, Kayleigh, nodded, sombre. She was young, but she had a vague notion of what was happening. As his mother began to spew out her life onto the cold, hard, paving stones, tiny baby Wolf burst into tears. Kayleigh, unsure of what to do, began to toddle in the other direction, up a hill towards the north of 5, eventually giving up and crawling.
Cold.
That was what Wolf's mother's skin was.
Limp.
Her body lay there, drowning in the disease, the boy who had cost her so much almost oblivious.
I should make my own page of short stories on my characters....
Under the Apple Tree
I've got a friend, he's a pure-bred killing machine, he says he's waited his whole damn life for this.
My mother calls me in to watch footage of the tributes on the train, but I can't. I just can't. He's on the train. Jasper, I mean. This is the spot where both used to meet, just me and him, under the apple tree on the hill. None of the rest of the world existed. For a while, at least. Then he'd have to go. I lived for those times, once a day. They made my life bearable.
I knew him well when he was 17, now he's a man who'll be dead by Christmas.
We still are 17, but that seems like a lifetime ago now. I suppose I'd better start from the beginning:
I was a confused and lonely young girl, with a very anti-career mother. Lost, I had found my way up a hill to a tall, broad apple tree that seemed, at the time, as ancient as time itself. After a while, a young boy came along, the same age as me, with messy black hair and hazel eyes. Wordlessly, he passed me his teddy bear, but left before I had chance to ask him his name. He came back the next day, though, and so did I.
After that, it became a regular thing between us. Jasper started career training, becoming a show off and something of a bully at school. When he was with me, though, it wad like he was a whole different person. He'd laugh and say that he wasn't schizophrenic, just that I was somehow different to those school kids. Things were perfect, until one eventful day:
As always, I was walking home from school, past The Nut, down the path, and so on and so forth, until I got to the hill and the apple tree. There, as usual, I flopped down to catch my breath and admire District 2. Soon enough, Jasper came along, commenting on it only being 2 months until our reaping as 17-year-olds. So far, so good. Then things got worse. Jasper placed an apple on my head and took out his fancy bow, aiming it. I shook like a leaf, but he shot the apple neatly off.
"Your go," Jasper grinned, "Go on, you'll be fine."
He set an apple on top of his own head, standing perfectly still. I aimed the bow, let the arrow fly - and it struck him in the eye. The agony must've been unbelievable. I let him lean heavily on my shoulder, taking him to get medical treatment. Jasper told everybody at school that it was a accident in career training, but there's no doubt that put some distance between us.
And them last night. When Jasper told me he was going to volunteer, I sort of closed up. I'm not going to speak anymore. Nobody else understands the mental pain.
AND I wrote it in bed, so excuse me if it's pretty bad.
The Hanging Tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
I'm running now, my feet pounding on the ground. I want to run away into oblivion, never coming back. Never returning to this miserable thing called life. My throat tightens as I reach the tree. Where he died. There were so many things he never told me, like the fact that he was a murderer. I'll forgive though; I'd forgive him for anything as long as he came back to me, standing by my side, just like a few short days ago...
The tree seems to call out to me...he seems to call out to me, rasping 'Flee'...
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
It's nearing midnight now. My heart begins to pound so loudly the sound swallows up my being, a cold sweat coating my skin and clinging on. Flee. I can't! I'm rooted to the spot, petrified suddenly. Flee. What's happening? He's dead. Am I paying the price for falling in love with a murderer?
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run so we’d both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Run. Flee.To my relief, my heartbeat begins to get quieter, replaced by an eerie noise. I don't like this. 1 minute to midnight. The clearing darkens all of a sudden, triggering me glancing around frantically. Boldly, I snatch up the coil of rope I brought with me and march towards the tree. It is time. The clock is ticking.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Leaning in, I plant a warm kiss on his deathly-cold lips, closing his eyelids over his blank, unseeing eyes. There. If not for the rope around his neck, he could be asleep. Blinking back the tears that swim in my eyes, threatening to spill over, I tie myself up to the tree, side by side with him. As my necklace of rope squeezes the life out of me, I smile a last smile that freezes on my lips forever. I've fled, now, my love. I've fled life.