They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her as he stops to pick every dandelion he sees. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much. By the time I carried the twins, Brook and Wyatt, the nerves that had consumed me for what felt like a lifetime were gone, leaving only joy in their place.
The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and Willow knows we played a role in them. Rye will know soon. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:
"Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you."
My children, who don't know they play on a graveyard.
I feel Wyatt squirm in my arms as Peeta coddles a wide eyed Brook tightly. I shift closer to him, looking down upon my two babies.
"Did you have a nightmare?" I ask Wyatt softly, putting a pacifier in his mouth. "I have nightmares too. One day I'll have to explain to you about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won't ever really go away.
I'll tell you how I survive it. I'll tell you that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.
But there are much worse games to play."
THE END
YOU ARE READING
Life After Mockingjay
Fanfiction"After everything we've been through, two hunger games, hijacking, a rebellion.. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. Bu...
