Hunt and Chase

Painting Flowers

The bullet train, rushes over the tracks, faster than a flash of lightning, it's gone.
The outside world comes in glimpses as a bright early morning sun streams through the windows.
The train car runs cold, nowhere near as cold as my night on the roof. The wool blanket does nothing to warm my insides. I had dreaded this for ages. I couldn't put it off anymore though, I couldn't let their bodies be trapped and put on display like a piece of art.

"Hunt will you please eat something?" Vera pleaded with me. "Not even a piece of toast?" She picked up the crunchy carb and poked it at my mouth, leaving raspberry jam on my top lip. I licked it away, savoring the taste that brought back my childhood.

My mother stood, swaying in the kitchen, humming to whatever tune had taken her ear that day. I sat at the bay window, looking out at the snow, beginning to dust the ground. "Come here munchkin, breakfast is ready," her sweet voice called. My little legs carried me to the kitchen as fast as they could, and I scurried to the table. There sat a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and a slice of toast with raspberry jam. My mother rubbed my head as I eagerly munched at my toast.

Those were simpler times.

I reluctantly took the toast from her, hoping to re-enter the happy haze of childhood.

As much as I despised District Four when I first arrived, it was the only place I longed to go, felt comfortable in. Had that really only been a month and a half ago when I had imprisoned there?

Now I mourned for the crash of the ocean waves, longed for the salty scent of the air, dreamed of walking down those stone-lined paths into the district center, wished I could eat one of Amaris' meals again in our cozy cottage. I fantasized about the future Chase and I could have had in Victor's Village.

Within an hour I could see the shore of District Four. I was elated to be back, the reason for my visit a not so joyous occasion.

I stepped out of the train, Vera following behind me, the salty breeze wafting against my face. We strolled through the streets, the wicker basket Vera held, secured tightly in her clutch. The town was alive around us but, paid no attention to us, they had their own lives, even if mine had ended. I was happy for them, they kept moving, kept living, loving, laughing. I was only in the first step of continuing my life.

I made a pit stop at a handsome flower cart, the merchant an older man with a gentle smile. "What'll it be bloke?" He asked in a firm accent. "A bouquet of wildflowers, with a Honeysuckle vine and a Zinnia if you have," I responded. "Can do," he answered and went to work, naming each flower he picked up. "Chamise, Wild Cucumber, Blue Elderberry, Fiddle Neck, Whispering Bells, and as requested, Honeysuckle and a Zinna," he finished. I thanked him and dropped a hearty sum of pence on his table before taking my leave. "Next ones on the house!" He called after me in joy.

I trudged to the coast, the cobblestone roads fading into sand. Every step felt like I was sinking into the sand, the flowers a hundred-pound weight. I stopped and cast my gaze out to the cerulean blue, frothy waves crashing over each other like upsurges of sadness.

It was easier to let go fo Amaris first. Scooping the red and white ceramic vessel out of its wooded home, I sighed and held the jar close. I sang her lullaby one last time before opening the jar and letting the gale sweep her away to her final resting place.

With trembling hands and tearful cheeks, I reached into the basket and took the green and white ceramic urn out. I held it there in my shaking hands, all I could do was sob.

My mind raged. How could they take her from me? How could someone be so cruel? How could they take her light away? They had no right. Damn them all! All of them! They can go to Hell for all I care! I'll be there too, sinners are sinners, and they won't see the afterlife.

"Hunt, calm down," Vera said placing a hand on my shoulder. I must have been yelling out loud, I was in hysterics, laughing at nothing while all my eyes did was weep. "How could they?" My voice croaked out. No answer came.

I stood up from where I had collapsed on the rocks and looked at the jar. I opened the lid. My mind screamed at me to stop. I wasn't ready to let go, I had to though. I turned the jar, all senses telling me not to. Out flowed her ashes, the jar fell from my hand and shattered on the rocks below. "Goodbye beautiful," I sobbed, clutching the bouquet that I still hadn't let go of. Reeling my arm back I chucked the arrangement into the sea, watching it plummet to the bottom, I hope my heart will be good company.

"Eh, lad!" The florist called out to me as Vera and I dragged along the city streets. I would have ignored him if it weren't for Vera's glare saying, "Be polite."

"Yes sir," I said as I stalked up to the cart. "Eye, never met a Victor as polite as you," he commented. "You know who I am?" I questioned, a confused look gracing my face. "Yer, the whole country does lad. Anywho, I sar that little bouquet the lass made and I wanted to help yeh after yeh helped me," he said, jangling the coin in his pocket.
From the stall, he produced a vase full of lavenders, small bright blue flowers, yellow blooms and in the center of it all, a gathering of honeysuckle.
I took the vase in my hands in awe. "It's beautiful sir. Thank you," I said in the most joyous tone I had since I had been reaped. "She was beautiful lad, I know what it's like to lose yer lady. Don't let her get too far, ya hear me?" He threatened.
"Yes, sir."
With that, the florist pushed his cart down the path. I thought back to the jar still left broken on the rocks, she would have wanted her prison broken.

To be free.

______
When I tell you I cried while writing this you best believe it. Because oh boy I did. I think it's the first time it's really hit me that these characters are gone, they're only memories. That hurts to say because they were two of my favorites but, the show must go on.
I was so in my feels writing this because of the All Time Low song with the same title, I listened to it one day in class and almost had a good cry in the middle of the library, I knew this song was what I needed to fule this chapter.
The flowers have meanings, less than I would have liked them to but, the flowers in the first bouquet are all native to California where District Four would be minus the Honeysuckle which is Chase's favorite and then Amaris' Zinnia which means thoughts of friends, endurance, and daily remembrance. The other arrangement is all wildflowers Chase found in the arena obviously. I'm hoping to use the language of flowers a lot more in writing so, study up.

I've been going on for way too long. I hope you enjoyed.

Signing Off,
Valkyrie.