The Author Games: Literature

Aspen Kinsley's Tornado

The meaning of home had always been obscure in Aspen's mind. It hid, unseen, in between the shades of uncertainty which always seemed to surface inside at the mere mention of such an idea. It, the idea itself, meant to have a place to always be able to come back to, a place to belong to, a place that would always be able to give the comfort to heal the plague that homesickness seemed to always bring with it. It was a place that brought bliss and the feeling of peace that could be called home.

Where was her home?

It was relief, just the smallest pinch, that slushed inside her hollow body at the sight of the familiar planks of cedar wood, along with the windows of glass which seemed to be polished with near perfect precision. It brought back the memories of her mother's cooking, of her father chopping down trees with twinkles of raw determination in his eyes. She saw a faded image of her brother laughing, and a ghost of her sister running with bright streaks of hope trailing behind her. It was all too familiar, the sight and the scent she inhaled, the same as the pine forests of her district. It was fresh like the water of a morning lake, and for a moment, she heard the soft tones of her family's voices. They were to be described as nothing but mellifluous. It looked the same while it felt quite like the same, and, perhaps, it was her house, but never would she call it home.

Home was where the heart was.

Her heart was with those she loved; it was broken to pieces, and each shard was placed with a loved one. One fragment had been buried with her sister, and the truth was, Aspen was just learning that it was time for her to let that shard go. She had to focus on the pieces that mattered like the one she knew she had given to Kate not so long ago. Yet there was another important shard she had broken off, sending it away into the sky in hopes that it would find its rightful owner. She wanted only for her brother to accept it, keeping it as a part of himself forever.

She took the first step, her eyes darting around her as they settled on each place for just a moment as she found herself seeing glimpses of her lingering past. She remembered when she had played hide and seek with her siblings, and a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. Yet, the house seemed to be silent, and the ghosts of Aspen's past and imagination disappeared without leaving even a trace behind. All was quiet; all was gone including the grin which had tainted her lips only moments before. All that was left was the house in which she stood.

But it wasn't her home.

The sound of her footsteps was muted, and some sort of serenity dwelled in the atmosphere. Her feet carried her across the house and up the stairs, sliding across the wooden floor with grace as she carried herself as would a dancer. Her thoughts could only focus on her home, and on the journey she had taken as she had adventured further from it. She had lost herself when her sister had passed, leaving behind her one true home- her family. She had learned so much- what it meant to lose, what it meant to win, what it meant to feel. She didn't deny all she had felt while she had left her brother; she knew she couldn't complain that even though she had carried herself with a drooped head and sorrowful demeanor, the Games had shown her what it meant to feel alive. She had seen death, the blood, and the gore, but she had also seen life, the friendship, and the love.

Perhaps, it was time to go back home.

The ground beneath her began to tremble, and she pushed against the wall for support in an attempt to keep her balance. The walls shook, and she fell forward, catching most of her body on the soft sheets of the bed which seemed to have been faded of color. Her eyes flitted to the window, and she noticed that the winds outside were swirling dangerously, whipping around as if in the formation of a tornado. Aspen's lips were trembling, and her eyes darted around in some sort of fear. She felt lightheaded and she didn't feel as if she had the safety of gravity with her anymore. It was almost as if the entire house was lifting, and touching the floor would only lead to a fall of her demise. Through the window she saw the house floating higher and higher as it rose, suspending from the clouds like a puppet held by its strings.

This had to be another challenge the Gamemakers had brought to her, and she knew that she would get through it. She tried to ignore the fact that she was in the sky, so far from the ground. Her fear of heights couldn't get to her now, not in the middle of the Hunger Games. Pulling her attention away from the window, she tried to bring her focus to the room. It was some sort of flutter that she felt inside of her as Aspen's eyes darted around her. She had wandered into her own room, expecting to be brought the most terrible of memories. She found herself glancing from the wooden desk made of a sleek framework to the bed on which gray quilts sat. Her eyes wandered to the walls which were a pale lilac, and finally to the window which gave not just a view of the outside, but something else.

It's wasn't pain that she saw.

She saw the joy of her past, the memories which were worth remembering with a smile. She saw her siblings, both of them, engulfing her as the three of them shared a hug. That time she remembered specifically, especially since it had been her birthday.

"Aspen, it's your birthday, we would never forget," her sister said. Her brother had nodded, smiling as he bent down for a hug.

"Thank you. You're the best bigger sister and brother ever," Aspen whispered, returning the hug. Her sister joined in, and the three of them shared that moment with such joy and love for each other.

"And you're the best little sister we could ask for," her brother spoke in a soft tone.

The memory brought the smallest of smiles to her lips, and Aspen found some sort of emotion caught in her throat. The images, the memories, they continued as her sister's face appeared, a genuine grin playing on her lips as she sung Aspen to bed. Her brother, holding a pen and book, taught her how to let the ink flow like the blood in your veins, freely spilling onto the blank pages. She saw the future, the possibilities of the bond she could share with her brother. They were holding hands, both of them older than what they were now. It wasn't the fact that they were holding hands that pulled at her heartstrings, but the fact that they shared the sparkle in their eyes and the smile on their lips.

It was so close, all that she desired. Her brother's face appeared, the chocolate eyes of layered light and dark hair of a similar brown. His eyes held affection for his sisters, and they held a fire that could not die out. It was almost ethereal, the beauty never to fade in Aspen's eyes. His face disappeared, and just for a moment, she saw her sister's eyes. Only then did she realize how much they matched their brother's. Aspen was quiet, but she knew that these images were playing her heartstrings as if a harp, bringing out music so harmonious in sound. Her heart felt a connection with the pieces which were with those she had seen, and she could almost feel it warming inside of her. She knew that this was all that she had left behind- her brother and the chances of any bond they could share.

But it wasn't true.

The truth was that she had been lying to herself. She was not at home; she had run far away from her home. She had left her brother behind when she had tried so hard to hold on to her sister. Running away, she knew that she had gone far, maybe too far. Home was where the heart was, and Aspen knew where hers was, and where it belonged. Her sister was dead; she had been her past. That was her home before, but now, her brother was there. He was her future; their bond would grow and heal even if she had torn it with her absence. He was her home now, and she knew that her mind and heart were tired of running. She was going home, back to where she belonged.

Two faces were painted in her mind, one was fading, almost completely gone. The other was vivid, shining brightly as it shimmered in the light of hope which existed in every dark storm.

Her siblings had always been her home.