|Comments have been disabled in some folders; between 2003 and 2008 (2008 still has some comments opened). Those pieces are very old, and I do not wish to waste your time in giving me an in depth comment or critic on a piece that I probably won’t look back on. However, would you feel you want to give me a comment about one of these pieces anyways, feel free to send me a note. But please, don’t waste your time with a long, thoughtful critic unless it’s recent pieces (2009-2010). While I appreciate it, I’ve moved on from that art phase a while back. Thank you for understanding, and thanks for the continuous support.|
The Taste Of Honey, Ch.5Chapter 5: The AngelThe Taste Of Honey, Ch.5 by *B--Orchid
"Katniss." A pause. "Katniss." Another pause, this one longer. "Katniss, you're hurting me."
Peeta. My gaze releases the woman, Tisha, at last, and follows where my hand grasped and pinches Peeta's arm into a deathlock. My knuckles are white and his skin where I am squeezing has gone colorless. With a quick intake I let him go, feeling apologetic but unable to form words.
Panic seizes me like a vice, wrapping my heart in barbed wire. She looks powerful. She looks strong. More than that, she's proven herself capable of strength similar to her brother. Where her brother was merciful, I fear she won't be so much. I caused the death of her family. I caused so much pain.
As if reading my thoughts, she softens further, makes herself smaller somehow. I don't know how she does it, except I can only think of a deflated balloon. It isn't to that extreme, obviously, but it's the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't come all this way f
The Taste of Honey, Ch.4Chapter 4: The ReaperThe Taste of Honey, Ch.4 by *B--Orchid
When I was a child, when Prim was a little over two years old and my father was still alive, I had a friend who was my age, Basil Conher. We'd spend a fair amount of time together, playing and telling each other stories. One afternoon, we met behind the wooden fence that separates the Seam from the main town. It was a place we often rested at, mainly because of the plum and cherry tree that boarded it at the far side. We ate them until the peacekeepers found out about it and removed the trees.
On that day, he brought a book he said once belonged to his many great-grand-mothers. It was a storybook crafted before Panem was built; Old and worn out, the pages yellowed by time, the images had long lost their bright tints. I remember being mesmerized by the fact that someone well before our time, before the world went out the deep end, before the Districts and the Hunger Games and the Capitol, had held this book, read the words and turned the pages as I did. T
|Fanfictions and random prose by yours truly|
A Taste of Honey, Ch.1This idea stemmed from a roleplay session with a good friend of mine. It's nowhere as dark as The Death of Peeta Mellark, which I'm still working on by the way. I'll be alternating between both. The writing for this is simpler, since it's in Katniss' POV, as opposed to an omniscient view.and I am absolutely FLOORED by this! Thank you SO much! Thank you SingingFlames and anyone who took the time to read it. Guess I'll really have to finish it now, huh?
I do hope you enjoy. Please review and comment. Don't be shy!
Chapter 1: Catching A Mockingjay
I hit the wild turkey in the eye. Clean shot.
It's taken me months of practice to catch up to the archery skills I once possessed, and even then, I've been missing more then I used to. Either I catch the animal in