Writer Games: Pending Secrets

Task One - Promises Left Untouched - Male Entries

Like a river that had burst its banks, tears – thick, unstoppable, tears – began to leak from his eyes and slipped down his grazed, bloodied cheeks, where they dripped off of his chiseled chin and landed with a splat onto Melody's face. Then, the wails began. Horrible, terrible, animal-like wails that tore its way out of a man's throat and ripped through his lips, before escaping to the air where their sound of agony and heartbreak would echo for miles around.

Peter had heard others wail before in grief, but never his.

His mind became glazed, and his body numb. His hand released its grip on Melody's lifeless one, and at that exact same moment a Peacekeeper grabbed him by the arm and heaved him upwards like he was a rag doll. Peter didn't care. His eyes never left Melody's wan face, one last silent, desperate plead to awaken from the cold clutches of death, before a piercing pain was felt in the back of his neck. The world exploded into a plethora of colors right before his eyes, until suddenly darkness overtook him, and he fell into unconsciousness with the name of his one true love echoing in his mind on repeat.

Logan Hudson

"Logan! Not now!" Naomi giggled, and pushed Logan away, despite that her eyes closed in response.

He pressed his chest closer to hers. "It's not very often I'm on leave. I want to see you while I can." Kissing her lips, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

She finally sighed and gave in. "Fine, but really quick! I'm on duty!"

Grinning, he knew he'd won. The war had kept all the rebels busy, and with Logan being a well-trained warrior, he was often on the front lines. Naomi was a healer, so she was often back in district thirteen or the war-camps, tending the wounded. It wasn't often they had times to see each other, but when they did, they enjoyed it.

In Logan's case, he enjoyed it immensely.

"I'm so in love with you." Logan's voice was a husky murmur.

Naomi shivered, but kissed his cheek in response. "Ditto." It was something the two of them said often, whenever they didn't have time to fully respond. Logan had been the first to start it. At the time, his Commander had been around, and when Naomi had said it, all Logan could reply was "ditto" to keep his commander from thinking he messed around on-duty. Now, the one simple word meant more than an entire sentence to both of them.

"Logan, I should go. I have patients waiting."

Logan growled, deep in his chest, but it was a playful sound. "See you tonight?"

She nodded, pecked him on the lips and darted off. As soon as she disappeared from sight, Logan grabbed his sword and dashed through the city streets. It was busting with life and movement. To his right, a young child chased a dog around, who barked and yapped playfully. A baker on the left side of the street offered to sell Logan bread, but he politely declined.

"Soldier! Thank you for your service!" An older woman, probably in her thirties came up and inclined her head to Logan in respect.

He shook her hand. "You're welcome, ma'am. Thank you." She patted his shoulder and walked on down the street. Every time he was home, all the residents in district thirteen treated him that way. It wasn't just him that received the treatment; all the rebel soldiers did whenever they returned home on leave.

District thirteen was one that thrived, despite the war. It had taken its toll on the city and its people, but overall they'd survived. The buildings in the neighborhood Logan came to were all made of gray andesite. He found his home quickly. It was the only two story house on the entire block—the rest were all three or four stories high, with white picket fences and balconies up above.