3Huff…
Huff…
Huff…
Nothing was left, here.
Silence. It was supposed to be silent. The dome over the area kept the noise out, away from the rest of the world.
But…it wasn't?
How long had it been since the hovercraft passed here?
Three Days? Two weeks? A month? They didn't know. Time seemed to be lost here, just as everything in this world was. Everything in Panem, especially.
Lost to darkness…
The darkness…
What was the darkness here?
Ever growing. The inky black was all they could remember seeing last, hearing nothing. Feeling nothing.
They don't remember how their bodies felt. How their hearts pulsed, fluttered, slowed, quickened…stopped.
They can't envision what their smiles were like, real or fake, nor the wisps of hair or even the absence of it.
It was all gone.
Nothing left but the feeling of emptiness.
As if a piece of string was cut with scissors.
Cut short.
Cut…short…
No.
No, that couldn't be, that wasn't true.
But if that wasn't true, why couldn't they remember?
One try, they tried to open. No budging.
The second try gives way to the smallest amount of light before darkness snuffed it out.
But the third try…the third try is what bring clarity to their mind. What they're actually seeing in front of them. All around them.
The rolling grey clouds were absent from their vision; it wasn't the familiar blues that they saw when they…went…in…
It was purple. Deep lavender. Lavender like the Master of Ceremonies namesake.
Was it morning? Evening? Twilight?
How much time had passed, they couldn't tell…but the skies color would not change no matter whatever clock they would have found read.
Frozen? Surely time wasn't frozen here…was it?
DONG…DONG….DONG…DONG….
Their head rattled at the first echo.
It's cry was heavy; somber. It had the strength to carry for miles on end.
It wept for…no, bells do not weep. What would cause it to…weep…
The gaze turns away from the skies to the ground they seemed to have slept on…awoken from? Found themselves on? They aren't sure.
Long grasses. Decorated in dirt. Some even coated with shined rubies.
Scarlet tresses leave a trail…away from the soaked mud and to the trees in the distance.
This is normal.
Is this normal?
No.
Something happened here.
…
What happened here?
Memories are scattered, but they found themselves in this…place.
Haunting. A dream and a nightmare all at once. A dream…the off-colored sky painted into dreams. The trees here seemed to rise to the heavens…wherever they were. Birds seemed to chirp despite whatever confusion was had here.
No. No chirps. Squawks. Caws. Screeches.
Chirps don't come from the nightly terrors…but the nightmare was just as evident here…wherever it may lead them. They pass through miniature marble houses, the stone blocks of every shape and size, broken and unbroken, stuck in the ground. Statues and other shapes could be found among the broken stone, but…
Why did it feel so unsettling to look at them?
They couldn't even read them without their vision blurring, a dense fog hiding whatever truths they may hold.
Fog…
…
They remember this place being foggy…or had it been? Did they remember seeing the flowers?
Was their mind, their memory tricking them when they thought they saw ruby along the grass earlier? Along the mud beneath them?
Or the cracked white stones sticking out from the ground?
…
…
…Wait.
Those…weren't stones…nor marble…
A femur…a jaw…a skull…ribs peeking out from under the dirt-
GET RID OF THEM! GET THEM BACK! PUT THEM BACK-
They reach out for the collection of bones...
Everything is cold.
…
Why is it cold?
Surely, they are wearing enough layers to keep them from whatever chills are brought by the wind.
Surely the sun, orange and dimmed (or was that the moon?) could warm them here…wherever they are…but no.
They are stuck chilled to the bone, with a mind addled from the weeping bells and with nowhere to go.
Nowhere to go but up would be one phrase to put it, but it wouldn't fit here, would it?
Nothing is down, nothing is here or there or anywhere except shadow filled trees that creep over every step they seemed to have taken. Nothing is here except themselves in the company of chilled bones resting in the worm-infested mud, broken stones they can't read, statues that make no sense, grass trampled over in red, and a run down house in the distance.
Wait a minute. A house?!
A house on a hill, they see. Yet it feels so far away…
…
The house is not a house at all. Its walls have been darkened with time, nonetheless age.
It's not in one piece, either. Rotting wood and cracking concrete look to be the only things keeping it from collapsing on itself.
Perhaps the bell on top of its roof is why its straining under it?
…Huh? No…it's not there. How can it be there?
Or…not there?
DONG…DONG…. DONG…DONG….
It's echo weeps, everywhere and nowhere once more.
The 'home's shadow looms over. Broken glass windows stare them down…
CREEEEEEEAK….
Its wooden jaws creak open.
More chills…more darkness…
They want to run…. but where to go?
They cannot go. Not to the looming trees, nor the ruby grass field.
Its cracked glass gleams violet…or was it scarlet?
The darkness beckons them in…the wooden jaws slam shut.
All is silent once more. Or is it?
…
Silence is not present here…not like when they first found themselves in whatever they can't recall. No haunting birdsong in the air; its instead filled with the squeaks of a creaking building.
The belly of a musty beast.
The skies shine down on glittering shards as they pass by the windows; scattered along the creaking floorboards. They pass through wood left ajar, some barely holding onto their rusty hinges.
Concrete. Wood. Glass…
Crystals. Blackened Diamond shaped crystals, held in a circular form laid lifeless on the wood.
A Chandelier.
Was it enough to-
!
Something brown and grey could be spotted further away.
A pole. A pole?
The only window left untouched, a mural depicting a map of Panem shining down on…a pole.
No. A spear. Its long form rusted, splintered in half; its sharpened point speckled in ruby red.
More metal is found on the ground. Smaller. Clean. Numerous small blades stuck to the walls, to the floors…some dabbled in red.
Red…blood.
They had followed a trail of blood…now blood was everywhere they could see.
Splatters. Dabbles. Dots that grew larger or smaller scattering from the entrance.
Creaking…howling…whispers.
Their words billow into their senses. Mumbles. Quick. Slowed to a stop and starting again. Deeper in, deeper still they are found.
It takes everything they have to not be lured in but even then, it is not enough. It would never be enough.
Their words claw their body, latch onto them as mold. Darkness beckons them in again.
And to further darkness it takes them.
…
Darkened shapes all around them. It blurs; they block it from their mind, their emptiness. A chilled breath releases.
A moment passes in this newfound reverie. An almost eerie reverie in the shadows of this room.
But the darkness would not last.
A lone candle flickers to life…its flame a shimmering blue, pale as ice. Many more join the lone one along the walls, flickering in tandem until all shadows had scattered.
They find themselves in a gargantuan, cylinder-shaped room, empty of any presence except for the mid-air sconce. Broken chairs littering the floor; books torn, pages scattered, some showing signs of having been previously burned.
Many layers of dust coated every surface, every speck of grime could be seen along the paths leading to and beyond the doorways. It was here still that the red, though faded, left its biggest stains.
The red trailed even still, luring them to the back of the room…where it all began.
Began with an equally large, bronze structure.
A Cornucopia.
The winds tapping it bore no sound.
But the quiet never stayed. The whispers grew louder now.
One. Two. Four. A few more. Many more.
They all sound like dying birds trapped in cages, growing louder, shriller until the winds…no…a lone hush beckons them all to silence.
They see no people here, even with the hushed voices.
They see no people here, but they hear them all around the room.
A blink.
No. Something is there. Many somethings.
They all had every height, a different gender. Each one had a different shade or color of hair and not a speck of dirt on them. Everyone wore some sort of cotton shirt, suspenders in different colors and tags, matching hiking shoes. But…
They were all so…young. Some were just children while others looked to be very young adults. Everyone else was every age in between.
So young, yet their eyes…they each have lost their shine.
The expressions left on their faces were equally rigid. Gaunt. Haunting.
What had happened here? Did…did they-
"We have been waiting for you…. I have been waiting for you…"
It wasn't a whisper. It was an echo, loud enough for all that were here to listen.
A blink…
The lone candle did not float anymore.
Instead…black gloves held it in place. Gloves lead to long, billowing ebony sleeves. A dark cloak with a hood over their head, inky feathers cascading over their shoulder…with a face hidden behind the shadows of a heavy veil.
They want to join the screeches. They want to run, run far away from this darkened presence…but their voice keeps them from moving; the same to the other people in this very room.
The Looming veiled…person lifts their head...
...Slowly.
Their head, or what they imagine their face to be moves across the room. Some members of the group move back whenever they look over them, remaining until their head moves again….
Until their eyes land on them once more.
"You all…must be wondering why you are here…yes?"
The whispers start again. Most garbled in quiet fear; only a few words catch the wind in their ears.
"Home." …" Victory." …" Family" …" Fame".
No word deterred the presence…
"Tsk…tsk…tsk…you children do not realize your circumstances…do you?"
Their voice was met with confusion…from every side.
For the first time since they came…silence rolled through the room.
An uncomfortable one. Uneasy. Wrought with confusion.
"Surely you would remember by now…the fates decided here…"
Still silence…but the negative energy in the room soon grows anxious.
The voice is everywhere and nowhere, chiming like a commanding…bell.
Were they really there or playing tricks on them?
Blink once. Twice. Their shadows still loomed.
"…Everyone here…is dead."
Shock…
Electricity. The negativity in the air reaches a peak, spilling into waves of Horror. Denial. Fear.
Cries of disagreement, tears and screams echo through the broken chamber. Empty threats join the cacophony while some words are kept unsaid. They realize why they couldn't return the bones under the dirt.
Why they managed to get here so quickly when they thought time surely passed.
It was in that moment they decide to look down, down to their bare hands.
Untouched by the dirt, the mud, the grass…they could see a faint, pale green glow…
And they could see their hand, clairvoyant, phasing through to show the bloodied floor beneath them.
No…
They look up to the group among themselves…except the shadow, each and every one of the group were glowing a pale variety of colors, just as clairvoyant as themselves.
No, they…they couldn't be dead…could they?
As if the figure knew…a sigh released. The air around them grew brightly, the candlelight growing into a large ball in the palms of their hand.
Their head turned, looking down at the flame themselves.
"Yes…everyone of you is dead….
…
…except for one."
Were they all even listening? They thought they were, or their thoughts were lost by their fellow…ghosts cries.
Cries of confusion. Relief. Hope. Even Despair.
"One of you…is only in a dream…asleep, hidden amongst the ghosts from this…Games, as you call them."
Their head raises ever so slowly, but the flame in their hand does not die.
Who?
"It is one of you who survived the events that transpired here…but I cannot find them."
More shrills start to build before a gloved hand raises…and the finger points to them. To everyone there.
"You…all 32 tributes of the 140th Games must find the truth…for you are the only ones that can. But to do so…you must figure out what had transpired here...each of your ultimate fates...and the truths behind them. To never do so…will only bring eternal pain and suffering to yourselves and those that you left behind…"
In that moment does the ball grow dimmer. One by one, each of the candles flicker off, as if snuffed out by a pair of fingers.
"Maybe the odds…are in someone's favor…as they say here."
The wind howls once more…and the ghosts are left in darkness.
The shadowy figure had already vanished.
All of their minds were surely scrambling.
Who's fate didn't end here?
What happened in this place?
…Where do they even start?
…Maybe it would have been better if they had stayed in the darkness.
….
SURPRIIIISE! SakuraDreamerz here, coming to you live with some good news and bad news.
The bad news has been stated on my profile, but to those who have started reading from here: I have decided to discontinue my collaboration with Gomex, and with it I have also decided to discontinue Cirque Du Mort.
The good news however, is with this a shiny new SYOT, the majority of the submitters from Cirque Du Mort have given me their blessing to use them for this story, instead!
That doesn't mean all of the spots are filled though; if you had wanted to submit a tribute and couldn't before, now's your chance!
The open slots are as follows:
Capitol M, District 1 M, District 5 M, District 8 M, District 9 F, District 14 M
Fair warning though, they ARE first come first serve! If you are interested in submitting a tribute to me, PM me and I'll send you a form for you to fill out; once that form is completed and sent in you're good to go!
Even to those not submitting and joining in for the ride, I wish you all luck in solving the mystery that has just been given by the ghost- er, tributes….But for now, I must bid you all adieu~!