Drabble Collection 2
Before we get to the drabbles, please excuse my layout. I know there are things not quite right about it. I may keep trying to fix it, or I might just say screw it and do something simple.
Fandom: First up is the only one with a fandom. It's Pretender (Jarod/Miss Parker). The proceeding three are originals.
Rating: I don't know, FRT? That's probably being overly cautious.
Author's Note lady_of_scarlet waved her magic beta wand over this, because she's cool like that. Any mistakes left are mine.
Between Two Points
Jarod freezes as the barrel of a gun presses against the back of his head. Blood pumps at a furious pace as a shot of adrenaline goes through his veins. His heart is the only thing that is not still. It's a steady drum beat in his chest while the universe holds its breath.
Parker's instincts to survive are at war with her need to live. The former a roar drowning out all else and pushing her beyond her limits; the latter, a constant ache that forms a sharp point each time she is reminded of all the things she did not choose. He is silent, for once, because he knows this is her moment. It's why she came alone. No one knows either of them are here, because she needs to do this on her own.
His palms sweat at his sides, and it doesn't escape his notice that the pressure against his skull is steady, unshaken, but he knows she is neither of those things. He could speak, try to reach her with words and hope it pushes her in the right direction, but something tells him she's tired of being pushed. He has to give her this. His fists clench, his eyes slip close as he remembers the little girl he knew, and hopes she won't destroy that memory now.
It's a crescendo as it all comes together. Memories, emotions, and everything that lies between them build, and she's certain she'll be carried away. Then, it falls silent for a brief pause, until a single note rises up and strikes a chord within her. She could take his freedom, she is not as good as he would like to believe, but she doesn't want to.
The air finally moves again when the cold metal pressing into him is gone. It's punctuated by the click of the safety on her gun, and it's only then that he exhales. He feels relieved, elated even, when her actions fully register. He always hoped this is what she'd choose, but he never knew for sure she would. He's still reeling when he hears a heel hit the hardwood floor, and the light clanking of the doorknob being turned.
Jarod pivots, slamming his palm against the door. It hits the frame harshly, shutting out the rest of the world once again. He will not let her walk away this time.
"Nothing's changed, Jarod." It's whispered, but her voice is heavy with resignation. He wants to deny it, tell her everything has changed, but the truth is, she's right. Maybe they see each other more clearly now, and maybe they're both accepting that their paths are intertwined, but it doesn't change the circumstances. And he hates it.
"I know." His tone is gruff, tinged with anger, and his mouth is close enough to her ear she feels his breath warm against it. Parker notices the heat emanating from his body, and it hits her how close they are. And unless the universe implodes she doesn't think anything will interrupt them this time. The arm not braced against the door wraps around her middle and pulls her flush against him. The contact is something akin to being dropped in hot water after having been frozen her whole life. It hurts, until the warmth seeps into every part of her, and then she's on fire. His lips brush against her ear, and she comes undone.
Don't Pretend You're Not Broken
She hurls words at you like knives. They leave you raw and bleeding, until you throw some back at her and watch the pain flash in her eyes. It doesn't stop either of you. It escalates from a battle to a full blown war, but you're fighting to defend yourself, and she isn't. You realize when you notice she's shaking, that none of it is fueled by anger, or with the intent to hurt. She simply wants you to keep hitting her with the truth until she breaks.
Maybe then she can start to fix herself.
You're silent now, even though she continues to hit you with everything she has. Her words come to a halt as you step towards her. Her eyes are wide, and glistening from tears she refuses to let fall.
Your arms wrap around her, and she pushes her hands up between your bodies in an attempt to stop you.
"No…" it's a desperate plea when it falls from her mouth, but you only pull her closer, until she's crushed against you.
Her weight sags in your arms as she gives in. You only know she's let the tears fall when you feel the dampness through your shirt where her face is buried.
It breaks your heart, because tomorrow she'll smile as though it never happened.
Goodbye
Round and round she goes as the cheerful music plays. Brightly colored lights and faces in the crowd blur until it's all unrecognizable. Alice sits atop the purple horse, its head cast down, and one hoof raised. It used to be her favorite as a child, standing out amongst all the rest. Her father would lift her onto it, and she'd wave whenever she passed him by.
But Alice doesn't see him in the crowd, and when she looks down at the purple horse the lights no longer glitter off his shiny frame. Instead she sees tiny fissures along his white body, and his mane has faded to a purplish-gray. Her hands grip tightly to a once sleek and golden pole, chipped paint rough beneath her hands. The dancing multicolored lights have begun to dim, and the familiar music has suddenly stopped.
In the darkness, the merry-go-round spins on. Alice wants to get off, but her father isn't there, and she's not sure how far the platform is from her feet. She feels warmth run down her cheeks as she squeezes her eyes shut, and a pressure in her chest builds until she can't breathe. The air whooshes by her, faster and faster. She wants to scream.
Alice.
Abruptly the ride stops, and her eyes fly open. The music remains silent, and the crowd around the merry-go-round is gone, but the lights are dancing, and she sees them reflecting off the pristine purple horse shining beneath their glare once again. The familiar voice returns.
Just let go.
Her lungs expand, then release, the weight in her chest finally gone. Stiff hands let go of the shiny golden pole, and below dangling feet she sees the platform. She starts to slip down, still a little afraid of touching ground, but once it's solid beneath her the last bit of fear abates.
I love you, Ally.
Warmth fills her at the whispered words, and a lone figure appears on the outskirts of the ride. He waves at her one last time, and Alice waves back.
I love you too, daddy.
Alice wakes slowly, the images of the dream slipping away. But her last words echo in her head, and ripple across her entire being. She feels weightless as the feeling of freedom blooms.
She smiles at the sunlight streaming through her window, and, for the first time in months, welcomes the start of a new day.
Overlap
Most days everything feels disconnected. Up close, life just looks like individual threads that occasionally overlap instead of some magnificently woven quilt. It feels like chaos that you were lucky enough to be born into, and you can't imagine that beneath it all is some kind of sense.
The more you grow up, and grow into yourself, the further you feel from everyone else. You remember not feeling alone. You remember playing hide and seek with your friends. The whole neighborhood your playground as you chased each other well past dark, laughter and screams of delight filling the summer air. You remember Christmas with your extended family. Your uncle dressed as Santa Claus, drunk, but always merry, and wrapping paper littering the floor that would tempt someone to start the paper-ball fight. And you remember evenings with your parents. Talking over dinner and family game nights. You remember the first time you beat them at Monopoly and their laughter as you threw the multicolored money in the air.
The memories are there, but so far away. Since those days you've had countless moments in your life, big ones, quiet ones, but they all flew by like mile markers as you drifted into your own space. Apart from everyone, and everything else.
And here you are, at your grandfather's funeral with not a single tear shed. It's not numbness. You're just empty. As though you've lived too much, and you don't have anything left.
You look around at all the people, your family, your friends, and there's no spark of emotion. You feel like you're trapped in the tiny square space between where the threads overlap.
You offer hugs, words of comfort, and put on the appropriate sad face, but inside it's silent and they're all just ghosts.
Then you see your cousin crying. His nearly six foot frame shakes as tears fall from his lashes. He's sixteen, but when you look at him you see the little boy whom you tickled until those same eyes overflowed with tears of laughter.
Your arm slides around him out of instinct and his wraps around you in return.
Suddenly, like a bubble bursting, it all comes rushing in. The breathtaking simplicity of the moment, and the overwhelming feeling that you belong.
At first you think it's wrong, wrong that you would feel whole at a time such as this. You try to listen to the priest as he speaks on your grandfather's behalf, but it's drowned out by the memories of your grandfather's life. And it doesn't feel wrong anymore. Somehow, it finally makes sense.
Life should come together when you're reminded how quickly it's gone.
Fandom: First up is the only one with a fandom. It's Pretender (Jarod/Miss Parker). The proceeding three are originals.
Rating: I don't know, FRT? That's probably being overly cautious.
Author's Note lady_of_scarlet waved her magic beta wand over this, because she's cool like that. Any mistakes left are mine.
Between Two Points
Jarod freezes as the barrel of a gun presses against the back of his head. Blood pumps at a furious pace as a shot of adrenaline goes through his veins. His heart is the only thing that is not still. It's a steady drum beat in his chest while the universe holds its breath.
Parker's instincts to survive are at war with her need to live. The former a roar drowning out all else and pushing her beyond her limits; the latter, a constant ache that forms a sharp point each time she is reminded of all the things she did not choose. He is silent, for once, because he knows this is her moment. It's why she came alone. No one knows either of them are here, because she needs to do this on her own.
His palms sweat at his sides, and it doesn't escape his notice that the pressure against his skull is steady, unshaken, but he knows she is neither of those things. He could speak, try to reach her with words and hope it pushes her in the right direction, but something tells him she's tired of being pushed. He has to give her this. His fists clench, his eyes slip close as he remembers the little girl he knew, and hopes she won't destroy that memory now.
It's a crescendo as it all comes together. Memories, emotions, and everything that lies between them build, and she's certain she'll be carried away. Then, it falls silent for a brief pause, until a single note rises up and strikes a chord within her. She could take his freedom, she is not as good as he would like to believe, but she doesn't want to.
The air finally moves again when the cold metal pressing into him is gone. It's punctuated by the click of the safety on her gun, and it's only then that he exhales. He feels relieved, elated even, when her actions fully register. He always hoped this is what she'd choose, but he never knew for sure she would. He's still reeling when he hears a heel hit the hardwood floor, and the light clanking of the doorknob being turned.
Jarod pivots, slamming his palm against the door. It hits the frame harshly, shutting out the rest of the world once again. He will not let her walk away this time.
"Nothing's changed, Jarod." It's whispered, but her voice is heavy with resignation. He wants to deny it, tell her everything has changed, but the truth is, she's right. Maybe they see each other more clearly now, and maybe they're both accepting that their paths are intertwined, but it doesn't change the circumstances. And he hates it.
"I know." His tone is gruff, tinged with anger, and his mouth is close enough to her ear she feels his breath warm against it. Parker notices the heat emanating from his body, and it hits her how close they are. And unless the universe implodes she doesn't think anything will interrupt them this time. The arm not braced against the door wraps around her middle and pulls her flush against him. The contact is something akin to being dropped in hot water after having been frozen her whole life. It hurts, until the warmth seeps into every part of her, and then she's on fire. His lips brush against her ear, and she comes undone.
Don't Pretend You're Not Broken
She hurls words at you like knives. They leave you raw and bleeding, until you throw some back at her and watch the pain flash in her eyes. It doesn't stop either of you. It escalates from a battle to a full blown war, but you're fighting to defend yourself, and she isn't. You realize when you notice she's shaking, that none of it is fueled by anger, or with the intent to hurt. She simply wants you to keep hitting her with the truth until she breaks.
Maybe then she can start to fix herself.
You're silent now, even though she continues to hit you with everything she has. Her words come to a halt as you step towards her. Her eyes are wide, and glistening from tears she refuses to let fall.
Your arms wrap around her, and she pushes her hands up between your bodies in an attempt to stop you.
"No…" it's a desperate plea when it falls from her mouth, but you only pull her closer, until she's crushed against you.
Her weight sags in your arms as she gives in. You only know she's let the tears fall when you feel the dampness through your shirt where her face is buried.
It breaks your heart, because tomorrow she'll smile as though it never happened.
Goodbye
Round and round she goes as the cheerful music plays. Brightly colored lights and faces in the crowd blur until it's all unrecognizable. Alice sits atop the purple horse, its head cast down, and one hoof raised. It used to be her favorite as a child, standing out amongst all the rest. Her father would lift her onto it, and she'd wave whenever she passed him by.
But Alice doesn't see him in the crowd, and when she looks down at the purple horse the lights no longer glitter off his shiny frame. Instead she sees tiny fissures along his white body, and his mane has faded to a purplish-gray. Her hands grip tightly to a once sleek and golden pole, chipped paint rough beneath her hands. The dancing multicolored lights have begun to dim, and the familiar music has suddenly stopped.
In the darkness, the merry-go-round spins on. Alice wants to get off, but her father isn't there, and she's not sure how far the platform is from her feet. She feels warmth run down her cheeks as she squeezes her eyes shut, and a pressure in her chest builds until she can't breathe. The air whooshes by her, faster and faster. She wants to scream.
Alice.
Abruptly the ride stops, and her eyes fly open. The music remains silent, and the crowd around the merry-go-round is gone, but the lights are dancing, and she sees them reflecting off the pristine purple horse shining beneath their glare once again. The familiar voice returns.
Just let go.
Her lungs expand, then release, the weight in her chest finally gone. Stiff hands let go of the shiny golden pole, and below dangling feet she sees the platform. She starts to slip down, still a little afraid of touching ground, but once it's solid beneath her the last bit of fear abates.
I love you, Ally.
Warmth fills her at the whispered words, and a lone figure appears on the outskirts of the ride. He waves at her one last time, and Alice waves back.
I love you too, daddy.
Alice wakes slowly, the images of the dream slipping away. But her last words echo in her head, and ripple across her entire being. She feels weightless as the feeling of freedom blooms.
She smiles at the sunlight streaming through her window, and, for the first time in months, welcomes the start of a new day.
Overlap
Most days everything feels disconnected. Up close, life just looks like individual threads that occasionally overlap instead of some magnificently woven quilt. It feels like chaos that you were lucky enough to be born into, and you can't imagine that beneath it all is some kind of sense.
The more you grow up, and grow into yourself, the further you feel from everyone else. You remember not feeling alone. You remember playing hide and seek with your friends. The whole neighborhood your playground as you chased each other well past dark, laughter and screams of delight filling the summer air. You remember Christmas with your extended family. Your uncle dressed as Santa Claus, drunk, but always merry, and wrapping paper littering the floor that would tempt someone to start the paper-ball fight. And you remember evenings with your parents. Talking over dinner and family game nights. You remember the first time you beat them at Monopoly and their laughter as you threw the multicolored money in the air.
The memories are there, but so far away. Since those days you've had countless moments in your life, big ones, quiet ones, but they all flew by like mile markers as you drifted into your own space. Apart from everyone, and everything else.
And here you are, at your grandfather's funeral with not a single tear shed. It's not numbness. You're just empty. As though you've lived too much, and you don't have anything left.
You look around at all the people, your family, your friends, and there's no spark of emotion. You feel like you're trapped in the tiny square space between where the threads overlap.
You offer hugs, words of comfort, and put on the appropriate sad face, but inside it's silent and they're all just ghosts.
Then you see your cousin crying. His nearly six foot frame shakes as tears fall from his lashes. He's sixteen, but when you look at him you see the little boy whom you tickled until those same eyes overflowed with tears of laughter.
Your arm slides around him out of instinct and his wraps around you in return.
Suddenly, like a bubble bursting, it all comes rushing in. The breathtaking simplicity of the moment, and the overwhelming feeling that you belong.
At first you think it's wrong, wrong that you would feel whole at a time such as this. You try to listen to the priest as he speaks on your grandfather's behalf, but it's drowned out by the memories of your grandfather's life. And it doesn't feel wrong anymore. Somehow, it finally makes sense.
Life should come together when you're reminded how quickly it's gone.