First Choice

I was running and running like I had never run in my life. It's as if my entire life depended on every step I take regardless of the direction it was headed. I could still hear the sounds of the cannon even if I felt like I was already worlds away from the Cornucopia. The raging shouts of the killers were mixed so well with the agonizing screams of their victims. I kept on looking behind me for signs of any pursuer and thankfully, none had paid enough attention yet--not that I thought there would be any of course.

After what seemed like years, I stopped behind a large a tree trunk. I patted it carefully for any deadly sap or pins and, when I was quite sure it was safe, collapsed against it. Like I said, I ran like I had never done before. My heart was pounding angrily against my chest, my blood rushing to my brain like a burst of ocean waves, and both of my legs were numb. I was so tired I could actually drop dead from it any minute now. But I could not.

I wondered where she was already. Ten seconds into the plate and I knew what she was thinking of when her eyes widened at the sight of the bow and arrow. I glared at her, willing her to look at me. She did, thankfully. I shook my head ever so slightly and I was glad that I gave her that distraction. She could kill me right there because I took her away from her most precious friends but I saw Glimmer was already headed for it and I could not risk her like that.

As my body was already screaming wildly, I had to find a bunch of leaves to hide under and rest for quite a while. There were so many trees but my heavy body would not allow me even a feet away from the ground. So I settled under a neat bush surrounded by smaller trees. It was growing dark after all and the place had gone more silent.

Snap, snap. The sound of breaking twigs and crackling dried leaves alerted me. Damn, I slept. Barely a couple of hours inside the arena and I was already letting my guard down. Thankfully, the bushes kept me well hidden. I wondered how many times I would be using the word "thankfully" from now on.

"I lost her! I was at her and she slipped away!" I heard a girl's angry voice whine.

"We'll get her again, Clove. The arena could not be this big. She's out here somewhere, hiding," a boy's assured drawl replied.

"Yeah, Cato's right. She ran so she might not really be up for a good fight. Taking her down should be easy." Another girl's voice, more thrilling.

"Just find her already, alright?" A second boy's bored tones.

My body froze more and more as the voices multiplied. I wondered how many there were. But no one else followed so I assumed there were only four. Four. Two from each deadly district. They could be the only ones making alliances this early in the game. And who was that girl they were talking about that they were so desperate to find and, I shuddered at the thought, kill?

"Katniss, crazy name. Who would name their kid Katniss?" the whining voice, Clove's, spat bitterly.

"Whatever her name is will be forgotten already once her face shows up at the sky any night from now," the second boy's bored voice was shot with excitement.

I trembled so badly I knew the bushes could be moving along with me. Katniss. They were talking about her. They were talking about finding her. About killing her. I could not stop myself from shaking.

"Who's there?!" the first boy, Cato, shouted. Alert.

It was now or never. And I had to decide fast. Katniss . . . My first ever choice inside the arena.

"You wanna find her? Maybe I know how to . . ." I said, revealing myself under the bush. I grinned at them in the most menacing way I could. My hands were still shaking so I folded them behind my head.

"I'm Peeta. Her lover. Remember?"

Five Seconds

It was not easy boarding that train. She had an hour to ready herself but up til the last second, she couldn't seem to bring her entire body and soul inside her cart.

She waited. She had waited since early that morning to see if she would be stopped from leaving. She wanted to be stopped. But she never was.

She waited while packing her clothes. While she threw in two bottles of freshly peeled peanuts into her baggage, stowing it under several wool jackets so it would not easily break. Shards of broken glasses were difficult to repair. No, scratch that. They were impossible to repair.

Three minutes til boarding time. She had her head bowed, her eyes looking intently at her shoes. They were her most battered shoes. If they could just die, she would have buried them eight months ago. They needed new heels again. Maybe it was time to consider replacing them. But she loved those red shoes. They were from her aunt who had long since died.

God, she was rambling internally. Her thoughts were a jumbled set of puzzle pieces that never fit together. Her body a bundle of nerves that seemed to break little by little. She was tired of waiting and her sighs were getting deeper by the second.

Then she heard the announcement that the train would be leaving in a few seconds. She stood glumly from her seat by the entrance and walked toward the train with her head bowed. It was time.

At exactly sixty seconds later, the train was off to its destination. She was never coming back.

And at exactly five seconds after, he arrived. With a bunch of flowers (lilies, her favorite), a harassed expression on his face, and a ton of regret in his heart when he saw the train moving fast away from him.

She was never coming back. And he was exactly five seconds late.


Photo by: James Muspratt

The Deal

It was one of the rare nights I was barely drinking. So you could just imagine my shock when I got the news full blast. Actually, it was just by mistake that I opened the television. They were done with choosing the dresses for the doomed wedding. Then Flickerman was doing the announcement for this year's Quell.

Damn place won't ever leave me alone, will it?

Before I was even able to shut the stupid announcement off, he was already knocking at my door. I knew he would come first. He always did.

"Oh good, you're not yet under," he said.

"Let's just hear your deal, boy" I grudgingly separated my hands from the bottle, eager to end what I knew would be a grueling conversation.

"You owe me, remember?"

"Owe you what?"

"You chose her"

"You already did even before the Games. I could've chosen you but you were plainly giving your odds away with all your Lover Boy ploys."

"I wouldn't do it any other way. But you did owe me, with all your lies that nearly killed me. Now it's payback time."

He's got point, you know. The kid knew how to drive his reasons. "So what do you want?" I asked.

"Definitely she's going back in. I want in. And just like last time, you would choose her." He was not asking for it. He was demanding in such a way that I knew there were no other options.

"Deal."

"Better shape up. We cannot pretend this is just another one of their Games. We both know what's happening. She's in more danger than ever and going back to the arena is just like walking into her funeral." Now, there was a hint of fear in his voice. This boy never acted, I'd always known that.

"Think I don't know that?"

"So get her out of there alive. Promise you'll really try, Haymitch."

"Swear it."

Just like that, he turned his back on me and turned the knob to my front door.

"You know I get this feeling she'll ask the same thing. In fact, she might be on her way." I told him.

He froze. Then a shrug. "I hope she does. Just so I know she cares, too. But somehow, I doubt that."

I never thought I'd see someone break into pieces as much as that boy had that time.



(I have always wondered how Peeta asked for this. And since I couldn't yet fathom his own emotions, I wrote this in Haymitch's POV. He's really deep, you know. He could do it.)

By the Window

She wanted so much to get off that seat by the window. Heck, she wanted more than to throw away that chair.

It was at an antique shop that they saw the chair. She was instantly in love with it. The curve, the wood, the paint. Everything was what she knew would be perfect.

It was in that chair that she sat and looked out to wait for him. It was in there that she felt the excitement of seeing his car turn into their gravel driveway. It was in there that he would come up to her and give her a day's worth of hugs.

But things changed. He changed. They changed.

Now, she wanted nothing to do with the chair and the window and the gravel driveway and the black sedan by their garage. She wanted to throw them all out.

For now, no one would be using them anymore.

Photo by: Annette Pehrsson

Tell Me Then

"Why won't you say yes?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know, maybe because you love me."

"Is that good enough for you?"

"Yes."

"But why did you even ask in the first place?"

"Because of the same reason. I love you."

"That's the problem. I don't know if it's good enough for me."

"What?"

"Yeah. I don't know. Maybe I believe that marrying someone is different from just loving them. Love is enough when all you want is to be with the other person, have happy moments together. But I don't think it is enough when what you want is the possibility of waking up one day and having to dye each other's hair black. So I'm asking you, what other reasons do you have for asking me to marry you?"

"Because . . . "

"See, you can't think of other reasons."

"I can."

"Let's hear them, then."

"Because you're a bitch. You're pushy and tough and you never let anybody carry you even if it means losing both of your legs from walking. You don't believe others unless they give you enough reasons to, like what you're doing to me now. You take your coffee five times a day, four of them without sugar and cream. And that disgusts me. You walk barefoot every six in the morning, wherever you are. I saw you do that here in the office, and everybody thought you're crazy. Someday you want to be able to invent a medicine that would allow people's hair to never whiten, which is stupid because you hate math and science. And you hate everything that crawls except for snakes."

"Ben . . . "

"Oh, and the best of all those reasons? You are an imperfect woman and I could do better with someone who would have lesser flaws. But I don't care. Because I love your imperfection even if all my friends ask me why. Even if you ask me why."

Photo from: fuckyeahweddingideas.tumblr.com

Forgetful Night

The phone wouldn't stop ringing. The workload is enormous and the deadline is impossibly getting nearer. Her blood drains and refills as her heart stops and pumps. Her legs numb and prickles annoyingly alternately.

If she ever makes it to tomorrow unscathed, she would have a lot of thank-you prayers to offer. Stupid boss, she's supposedly on leave until the next week. But no, the requirement can't wait.

She takes a break for a while. Taking out a cigarette from her soon-to-run-out stock. She makes for the door, almost near its lock when she hears him grunt in his sleep.

Turning around, she sees him toss the blankets aside. His eyes open and find her. She smiles at him. He smiles back. And then confused, he goes back to sleep.

The doctors said Alzheimer's symptoms are very hard to detect. But once they start showing, there's no stopping them.

Photo from: cheeptalk.wordpress.com

All I Have

I wish we can speak. Right now, right here. I wish we can see each other's tears. I wish we can hear each other say we're sorry. Right now, right here.

There are too many things going on in my mind. My heart is just as unsettled. I don't know where you are.

So all I can do is watch the ocean. I speak to the wind, hoping it finds you and relays my message. I let it kiss my tears away, and pretend it's your lips that do so. I say I'm sorry, and let the waves crash on the apology.

Because right now, right here, it's all I have.

Photo by: Rachel Webb