As you may have noticed, this story along with my other SYOT was deleted for rule violation. Nevertheless, I'll be continuing, just more conspicuously. The only Tribute forms I have saved are the ones that were sent via PM, so if you had reviewed previously, please submit again! And remember, PM : )

Fiction.

How does one properly define fiction?

One cannot.

One man's fiction is another man's reality. And one cannot judge or alter one's sense of reality.

For instance, let me tell you a story.

There once was a boy. A young boy, a handsome boy, a smart boy. A misunderstood boy. But in some sense of the word, a normal boy. He had a mother, a sweet woman with aged green eyes. He had a father; a father who may have been a bit too fond of alcohol, yes, but oh, how he loved his son. He was always reminding him with hugs, hugs that turned to kisses, hot with the stench of spirits, kisses that turned to, well…

One day, the mother said enough was enough. The boy didn't know why, but they took his father away. The boy did not know, but those around him certainly did. And from then on out, he was the freak. The faggot. The creep. The one to stay away from. His own town, his own classmates, turning him away like he was some sort of hideous creature transformed from the quiet boy they once knew. And he never changed back.

Fiction, surely.

Such a thing could never happen. Humans treat others with the humanity they themselves believe to possess.

Well, that mantra, my friends, is truly fiction.

The story of that boy is reality to me. I am that boy; now turned a man.

But, even though I have aged, my one passion throughout the years has not: fiction. I muddled the line between reality and storybooks as a child to escape the coldness of those around me; and now, I will be using it to get revenge.

One of the few places in town I can go without being sneered at and without mothers snatching up their children as if I am destined to follow in my father's footsteps is the faltering town library. And from there, I found a novel most intriguing.

One that spoke an obvious message: The greatest way to harm someone is to first harm their children.

In this novel, 24 children pay the price of death in punishment for the mistakes of those before them.

For the mockery and degradation their parents had committed.

Just fiction, right?

But once more; how does one properly define fiction?

One cannot.

One man's fiction is another man's reality. And one cannot judge or alter one's sense of reality.

I sit before twenty-four pictures. The photographs of the spawn of those who defeated and dismembered me not-so-long ago. For destroying my childhood, for destroying my life, the one thing I had to value, I will do the same to them.

The twenty-four pictures rest around blueprints. Even faggots can hold at least semi-successful careers, and I found one as a foreman for a suburban construction site. I rarely leave my trailer, but the workers never mind. The blueprints map out the construction site, one that has been left alone under my care for the holiday break to come, one that will be the site of the vengeance and carnage.

And on top of the blueprints, rests a book. A book that will stand as guide for the week to come.

A little voice in the back of my head whispers:

It's only fiction.

But I shut it up.

Not for long.

Okay, you all might think I'm crazy for this. Basically, my weekend consisted of watching campy horror movies, and I was unfortunately inspired. You can thank The Human Centipede 2: Full Circuit and Saw II for this horrendously disturbing story.

Basically, a man in a town in Vermont was ostracized, taunted, and bullied his whole life due to his unfortunate home-life. Because of this he is scarred, broken, and somewhat mad. His escape growing up had been reading, and the lines between reality and fantasy had always blurred together to create his temporary freedom. Years of recluse have forced this to grow and morph into something deadly; and when he stumbled upon The Hunger Games, he knew he had found his vengeance.

Now, he plans to kidnap 24 of the town's children and, at the neighborhood construction site in which he works, force them to fight to the death until one stands, as broken as he is, a symbol for the sufferings they have endured.

The story appears to be shaky as of now, with few questions answered, but I promise I have it fully planned out and everything will be revealed in time. Without further ago, the form!

Keep in mind that the year is 2012. The country is the United States. These are modern-day, fairly normal children. I will be picky about who I choose.

Name:

Age (12-18):

Appearance (details!):

History:

Personality (at least nine sentences here):

Family:

Friends:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Additional Info: