Post by Rowena on Aug 30, 2011 14:41:47 GMT -8
Title: Dangerous Hope
Competition: August 2011
Rating: PG
Word Count: 455
Disclaimer: I don't own it...if I did, Katniss's mother would have a name
Summary: Katniss's mother reflects on her daughters, the Reaping, and what she would do to save them.
This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.
Years ago, she’d lost a friend to the Games, and the scar of watching a girl she’d known since childhood die on a television screen had never really left her. But as she’d given birth to her own children, raised them, watched them turned twelve, she’d never thought about them being reaped.
Well, she’d thought about it. What parent didn’t? But she tried not to think about it too much. She tried to push the thoughts down to the back of her mind, because if she had to think about losing one - or, horror, both - of her girls on top of losing her husband, she didn’t think she would survive.
She would have done anything, anything, to save them. Katniss had sacrificed herself to save Prim. Now she wanted to sacrifice herself to save Katniss.
She couldn’t lose Prim. But she also couldn’t lose Katniss.
She knew her elder daughter did not respect her, thought she was foolish, but that didn’t stop her from loving Katniss just as much as she loved Prim.
If Prim had gone to the Games, there would have been no way she could have survived. It would have hurt – it would have hurt beyond belief – but it would have been quick. She would have been given that small mercy. Her husband’s death had been quick, and painless, and she would have prayed that Prim’s would be too. The watching would have made it worse. But she wouldn’t have needed to watch for long.
Katniss was different. Katniss was a hunter, a fighter, and so like her father. She couldn’t lose the last thing that connected her to him. And Katniss would fight. Katniss would last. Katniss wouldn’t like it, but she would be able to force herself to hunt, and kill, the other tributes. Katniss might even make it to the final eight.
But Katniss wouldn’t win.
Parents should not outlive their children, they say. The Hunger Games made a mockery of this sentiment every year, when they left twenty three families grieving the loss of a life, and twenty four grieving the loss of a childhood.
She had always felt that the stupidest thing those families did was hope. Some didn’t, she knew, or at least tried not to, but others couldn’t help it, and some were cocky with hope, not believing that their children could ever be the ones to die.
Hope was dangerous. If Prim had been reaped, there would have been no hope. But Prim was like her. Katniss was more like Maysilee. There would be hope, and then the inevitable crushing disappointment.
She would have given her own life not to have to live through that again.
Competition: August 2011
Rating: PG
Word Count: 455
Disclaimer: I don't own it...if I did, Katniss's mother would have a name
Summary: Katniss's mother reflects on her daughters, the Reaping, and what she would do to save them.
This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.
Years ago, she’d lost a friend to the Games, and the scar of watching a girl she’d known since childhood die on a television screen had never really left her. But as she’d given birth to her own children, raised them, watched them turned twelve, she’d never thought about them being reaped.
Well, she’d thought about it. What parent didn’t? But she tried not to think about it too much. She tried to push the thoughts down to the back of her mind, because if she had to think about losing one - or, horror, both - of her girls on top of losing her husband, she didn’t think she would survive.
She would have done anything, anything, to save them. Katniss had sacrificed herself to save Prim. Now she wanted to sacrifice herself to save Katniss.
She couldn’t lose Prim. But she also couldn’t lose Katniss.
She knew her elder daughter did not respect her, thought she was foolish, but that didn’t stop her from loving Katniss just as much as she loved Prim.
If Prim had gone to the Games, there would have been no way she could have survived. It would have hurt – it would have hurt beyond belief – but it would have been quick. She would have been given that small mercy. Her husband’s death had been quick, and painless, and she would have prayed that Prim’s would be too. The watching would have made it worse. But she wouldn’t have needed to watch for long.
Katniss was different. Katniss was a hunter, a fighter, and so like her father. She couldn’t lose the last thing that connected her to him. And Katniss would fight. Katniss would last. Katniss wouldn’t like it, but she would be able to force herself to hunt, and kill, the other tributes. Katniss might even make it to the final eight.
But Katniss wouldn’t win.
Parents should not outlive their children, they say. The Hunger Games made a mockery of this sentiment every year, when they left twenty three families grieving the loss of a life, and twenty four grieving the loss of a childhood.
She had always felt that the stupidest thing those families did was hope. Some didn’t, she knew, or at least tried not to, but others couldn’t help it, and some were cocky with hope, not believing that their children could ever be the ones to die.
Hope was dangerous. If Prim had been reaped, there would have been no hope. But Prim was like her. Katniss was more like Maysilee. There would be hope, and then the inevitable crushing disappointment.
She would have given her own life not to have to live through that again.
