Call for Prompts: Lost, abandoned, and left behind
The call for prompts is now open! For the next 24 hours, I will taking your prompts on the theme of Lost, abandoned, and left behindI will write (over the next week) at least one microfic (150-300 words) to each prompter. If you donate, I will write to all of your prompts, and write at last 300 additional words for each $5 you donate, to the prompt
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"I need you," she'd told him, even after he'd severed the Keeping, releasing her. "I want you. Stay with me."
"I've got to go," he'd told her, petting her, trying to pry her off of him. "I've done my time here, love. And you'll be fine."
"No, no, I won't." She'd devolved into sobbing then, and he'd set her on the bed and packed around her, until the room was empty except for suitcases and the bed they'd shared all year.
He'd held her, then, until he had to leave, petted her and talked to her, nonsense and gossip, nothing important, but she'd clung to every word, like she'd clung to him. If she was good enough, maybe he wouldn't leave her. If she was really, really good, maybe he'd take her with him.
She hadn't been good enough, hadn't been enough for anything more than a good-bye kiss. He'd hooked her leash to her collar, looped the other end around the bedpost, and ordered her not to touch the leash... and then he'd left.
That had been, she was pretty sure, two or three days ago. The leash let her get to the bathroom, and to the kitchenette, which still had some food. She couldn't reach the door, which was beginning to annoy her, because someone kept knocking. She wondered how long they'd knock before they'd leave her alone.
She wondered, if she waited long enough, if he'd come back to her.
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I also know what happens neeext.
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How does the leash get abandoned?
or
Does the leash get abandoned?
Literal or metaphorical (or both), author's choice.
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The knocking wouldn’t stop. It went away for a while, but it kept coming back. She couldn’t reach the door from here, but she could reach a couple cans of food. Of course, if she threw the food, she wouldn’t have it anymore. She curled up and slept again.
The third time the knocking woke her, she gave in to temptation and threw the cans at the door. The knocking stopped, then, and Isi thought, relived, that she might be able to finally get some sleep.
The door opened, the light pouring in. “Is’? Isi?” Kauaʻi peeked her head in. “Isi, what…? Oh, that bastard. Isi, come here.”
The habit of obedience made her slink towards her year-mate, stopping when the leash tugged on her collar.
“Shit, Isi. Take that thing off.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered. “He told me to leave it on.”
“He doesn’t… shit.” She ran a hand through her hair. “All right, all right. Invite me in.”
“I can’t…” but she could. She didn’t have any orders about that. “Come in, Kauaʻi.”
Her friend strode in, muttering under her breath. “Naked, too. Clothes?”
“He took everything,” she whimpered. “He left me, Kee.”
“I can see that. Clothes, clothes, he wouldn’t have…” She slammed doors open and pushed aside boxes. “Ah, here’s your shit from the beginning of the year. Put this on.” She threw clothes at Isi, a soft shirt and long skirt that had been her favorite, before he told her they were wrong.
“Are you sure?”
“Well, you have to wear something. Come on,” she urged, making hurry-up gestures at Isi. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Leave me here?” Eventually, he’d come back. Right?
“That, that is the one thing I’m not going to do. I guess you’re coming home with me.” She tugged the leash off the bedpost. “Two feet, Isi, you can’t crawl in that skirt. Come.”
Happy to have someone telling her what to do again, Isi followed her friend out of His room.
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