Many Happy Returns
Hey shatterpath, don't know if you remember me but I couldn't miss up this chance to wish you a very happy birthday and to tell you that the best years are still to come - HONESTLY :)
I'm not really writing much at the moment; um, other than helping Emmie write stories for her literacy homework! So, I scoured through my archives and found this; it was my entry to a national competition. Needless to say it got absolutely nowhere and it's been festering on my hard drive for a couple of years.
If it's okay, I'm going to share it with you, for your birthday, and then, maybe, with my LJ f'list to prove I am still here :)
Without further ado, I give you, your Birthday fic
Title: After Image.
Author: mrswoman
Word Count: 631
Author's Note: An afterimage is an optical illusion that refers to an image continuing to appear in one's vision after the exposure to the original image has ceased.
*******
She got out of bed and plodded slowly down the hallway, aware at the edges of her mind of the normal sounds the night had to offer. Her feet were warm on the carpet, and she smiled as she remembered the hassle they'd had in choosing the colour. She bent to stroke the cat's head, loving his solid part in her life, even though he woke her in the middle of the night to open the door for his night-time promenades. She opened the door to a cool breeze and shivered; bidding him goodnight, she returned to bed, the darkness surrounding her once more as Morpheus sucked her back in without a care.
Seconds, minutes, perhaps hours later, she stirred to the gentle sounds of her daughter talking in her sleep. Where once she'd jumped out of bed at the first word, she no longer worried about this regular occurrence, just smiled lazily, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
Lulled into security, she drifted in blissful peace. All was right with the world.
Cracks of thunder broke into her silent reverie, and she leapt up with a start, all her senses on alert as she carefully scanned her immediate vicinity. Smoke, fire, and devastation surrounded her; her dream quickly forgotten and replaced with this, her stark reality. There was no cat, no daughter, and no soft warm carpet under her feet, just the feel of cold, dewy grass and the heavy scent of cordite.
She scrambled slowly to the brim of the large crater where she'd collapsed, exhausted, the previous night; she scoured the surrounding countryside. In front of her were the massed ranks of the droids who, days, weeks, possibly months before - she'd lost track of time in the complete and utter mayhem - had dropped their devastating bombs on her world.
For all she and the few other survivors she'd encountered knew, the whole of civilization could have been wiped out in a flash; long gone were the telecommunications that had helped make life before what it was. Instead, now, all around her was the bleak, unremitting evidence as far as the eye could see of death and destruction. The creatures were everywhere, zooming in with their laser vision on anything that moved. Once locked on to their target, it was mere seconds before the body was obliterated; no second chances were given. Caught in their trap, only one thing remained; death.
She'd lost count of the number of times she'd dropped to the floor, motionless, as one of the droids had loomed closer. Scared beyond belief, each time it happened another little piece of her resolve died, and yet, still she refused to just stand up and die as she'd watched so many of her compatriots do in the first hours of this nightmare.
For her, there was one journey that still had to be made. Each night, she inched closer and closer to home. Closer to the area where she'd left her family behind, closer to that miniscule chance that someone she loved was waiting. How could she give up when there was the chance that someone that mattered had not given up either?
Her dream of blissful peace returned for the briefest of moments.
It was in her dreams, in these images that refused to leave her no matter what else happened, and in her memories that victory against all the odds was possible.
She knew the only thing worth holding on to was memories of life before and the only things worth remembering were the things she missed. The only things worth remembering were family, love, children, happiness…
It was hard to remember now, having a life filled with love and promise.
It was hard to remember having a life.
And yet, life went on.
Thank you for reading, I missed this... You never know, this may spur me into 2011 action :)
I'm not really writing much at the moment; um, other than helping Emmie write stories for her literacy homework! So, I scoured through my archives and found this; it was my entry to a national competition. Needless to say it got absolutely nowhere and it's been festering on my hard drive for a couple of years.
If it's okay, I'm going to share it with you, for your birthday, and then, maybe, with my LJ f'list to prove I am still here :)
Without further ado, I give you, your Birthday fic
Title: After Image.
Author: mrswoman
Word Count: 631
Author's Note: An afterimage is an optical illusion that refers to an image continuing to appear in one's vision after the exposure to the original image has ceased.
*******
She got out of bed and plodded slowly down the hallway, aware at the edges of her mind of the normal sounds the night had to offer. Her feet were warm on the carpet, and she smiled as she remembered the hassle they'd had in choosing the colour. She bent to stroke the cat's head, loving his solid part in her life, even though he woke her in the middle of the night to open the door for his night-time promenades. She opened the door to a cool breeze and shivered; bidding him goodnight, she returned to bed, the darkness surrounding her once more as Morpheus sucked her back in without a care.
Seconds, minutes, perhaps hours later, she stirred to the gentle sounds of her daughter talking in her sleep. Where once she'd jumped out of bed at the first word, she no longer worried about this regular occurrence, just smiled lazily, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
Lulled into security, she drifted in blissful peace. All was right with the world.
Cracks of thunder broke into her silent reverie, and she leapt up with a start, all her senses on alert as she carefully scanned her immediate vicinity. Smoke, fire, and devastation surrounded her; her dream quickly forgotten and replaced with this, her stark reality. There was no cat, no daughter, and no soft warm carpet under her feet, just the feel of cold, dewy grass and the heavy scent of cordite.
She scrambled slowly to the brim of the large crater where she'd collapsed, exhausted, the previous night; she scoured the surrounding countryside. In front of her were the massed ranks of the droids who, days, weeks, possibly months before - she'd lost track of time in the complete and utter mayhem - had dropped their devastating bombs on her world.
For all she and the few other survivors she'd encountered knew, the whole of civilization could have been wiped out in a flash; long gone were the telecommunications that had helped make life before what it was. Instead, now, all around her was the bleak, unremitting evidence as far as the eye could see of death and destruction. The creatures were everywhere, zooming in with their laser vision on anything that moved. Once locked on to their target, it was mere seconds before the body was obliterated; no second chances were given. Caught in their trap, only one thing remained; death.
She'd lost count of the number of times she'd dropped to the floor, motionless, as one of the droids had loomed closer. Scared beyond belief, each time it happened another little piece of her resolve died, and yet, still she refused to just stand up and die as she'd watched so many of her compatriots do in the first hours of this nightmare.
For her, there was one journey that still had to be made. Each night, she inched closer and closer to home. Closer to the area where she'd left her family behind, closer to that miniscule chance that someone she loved was waiting. How could she give up when there was the chance that someone that mattered had not given up either?
Her dream of blissful peace returned for the briefest of moments.
It was in her dreams, in these images that refused to leave her no matter what else happened, and in her memories that victory against all the odds was possible.
She knew the only thing worth holding on to was memories of life before and the only things worth remembering were the things she missed. The only things worth remembering were family, love, children, happiness…
It was hard to remember now, having a life filled with love and promise.
It was hard to remember having a life.
And yet, life went on.
Thank you for reading, I missed this... You never know, this may spur me into 2011 action :)