Drabbles for Monthly Meme Prompts
Two drabbles written for monthlymeme . Both for Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.
1. Lyric Prompt from marycontraire
Tom McRae's "The Girl Who Falls Down Stairs"
"I know your face, but something's strange in your eyes.
Your voice I know so well-- your words I don't recognize."
She comes to him at night, with silent graceful steps she slips into his room and glances at him for a moment before she presses the door shut with a soft click. She turns. "Are you busy?"
The question catches his voice in his throat for a moment. He reminds himself this is different, and it is, there's no short skirt, no sheer white tank top and bright pink bra to wreck havoc on his teenage hormones. There's just Allison and a strange, burning questioning in her eyes. The wide brown eyes that he knows so well, that he's used to seeing with quiet, subtle changes, not these ones that betray Allison's every emotion.
He shakes his head. "No."
She hesitates and then moves, closes the small space between his bed and and door. She lays beside him and side glances at him through thick eyelashes. He can feel the warmth of her skin where her arm touches his. It feels wrong. The silence is charged, heavy, pounding with thickness and it threatens to crumble under its own weight. She still takes his breath away. He still expects it to be her. But it's not. It's just a sweet girl who has her face and who sleeps with his father but slips into his room at nights.
Allison from Palmdale.
"Did you know me?" she asks finally and looks up at him. She sounds different, but he supposes that's to be expected. She's real, his Mom would remind him. Her voice is filled with real emotion.
He shakes his head. "No." Because he didn't. Not really. He knows every inch of her body, he knows every small mark, every little scratch they put on a polished surface and called it a girl. But he doesn't know her.
"Sometimes," she starts and looks up at the ceiling barely five feet above them. "Sometimes I think you do. Sometimes you look at me..." she trails off and looks back at him. "You look at me like you're expecting someone else," she say it like she expects him to say she's crazy.
He watches her and aches for Cameron. He aches for the expression on that perfect face that he knows well, not Allison's confusion. He bites his lip. He never was good with girls. Human girls at least.
"Who would I be expecting?" he tries to joke.
She shakes her head. "I don't know." She lets out a slow breath and he watches her chest rise and fall with bated breath as she struggles for her words. He thinks of how it's an involuntary response, how it's hard wired into their brain matter and they're not much different, them and the machines sometimes. Except this little programmed action is more than needed, this isn't just some code of programming written in to help them appear more human. He thinks he thinks too much.
"Allison..." he starts and the chickens out. What do you say? So sometime in the near future there's a good chance they'll take you, kill you and send a machine in to take your place. A machine I traveled through time for. Yeah, that would go over well. "You just.. you remind me of a girl I used to know," he finishes lamely. It was close enough to the truth as he could get.
She thinks this over. "Did you like her... this girl?" she finally asks.
He turns his head to meet her gaze. "It was... complicated."
She smiles a little. "Isn't it always?"
The silence is back. That weighted silence as they stare at each other. He wonders what she would feel like under his hands. If she'd be softer, warmer. He wonders what her hair is like, how it would compare to that stolen moment after he replaced Cameron's chip. He reminds himself that it isn't her. And even more, that she's Kyle's. She doesn't belong him. He turns his head away, stuttering over his words, "I need, I need to get some sleep."
She sits up and looks back to him for a moment. "John?"
He looks to her and damn if it doesn't just hurt sometimes. "Yeah?"
"I hope you find what you're looking for," she says and gets up, not looking back as she leaves..
2. Prompt: Girl Power
Character: Riley
She doesn't know how to be a teenager. She was just a kid when the bombs went off and all she knows is running and hiding (and not in that order necessarily) and eating garbage. She doesn't know how to wear jeans low on her hips, how to sway when she walks, how to make her hair shine and curl on the ends. She doesn't know the secret language of girls, the way they always seem to move in groups and the way their eyes look down on each other even as they ramble with incessant pet names and compliments.
She doesn't understand.
She watches teen dramas on television and watches as reality tries to imitate television trying to imitate reality. At her most frustrated she knows why the machines dropped the bombs. Teenagers scare her, they annoy her. They grate at every fiber of her being. She doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to be one of them and twirl her hair, make vapid comments and dwell on the most unimportant of things. The world burns and the only thing they ever seem concerned with is their prom dates.
She watches skinny, perfect blonds fall in love on tv. She listens to them compare love to butterflies in their stomachs, to tragedy and comedy all in one, she watches them declare themselves in the most dramatic of ways while rain tumbles down and soft rock plays in the background. She learns to be coy but memorable. Spunky but not too much. Sarcastic but never mean to the object of her affection. She learns that she must be sweet but mysterious, she has to sneak little glances and small smiles, vulnerable but not needy, interested but not too much.
And finally it's time. She sits in Jesse's car and watches teenage bodies pass them by. She is unprepared. She knows everything she has to do but she doesn't know how. But there is no time and she's thrust into a world she still doesn't truly understand. But then there's John. And then there's butterflies... and tragedy and comedy (because really this is the biggest fucking joke of them all) rolled into one. And suddenly she knows.
1. Lyric Prompt from marycontraire
Tom McRae's "The Girl Who Falls Down Stairs"
"I know your face, but something's strange in your eyes.
Your voice I know so well-- your words I don't recognize."
She comes to him at night, with silent graceful steps she slips into his room and glances at him for a moment before she presses the door shut with a soft click. She turns. "Are you busy?"
The question catches his voice in his throat for a moment. He reminds himself this is different, and it is, there's no short skirt, no sheer white tank top and bright pink bra to wreck havoc on his teenage hormones. There's just Allison and a strange, burning questioning in her eyes. The wide brown eyes that he knows so well, that he's used to seeing with quiet, subtle changes, not these ones that betray Allison's every emotion.
He shakes his head. "No."
She hesitates and then moves, closes the small space between his bed and and door. She lays beside him and side glances at him through thick eyelashes. He can feel the warmth of her skin where her arm touches his. It feels wrong. The silence is charged, heavy, pounding with thickness and it threatens to crumble under its own weight. She still takes his breath away. He still expects it to be her. But it's not. It's just a sweet girl who has her face and who sleeps with his father but slips into his room at nights.
Allison from Palmdale.
"Did you know me?" she asks finally and looks up at him. She sounds different, but he supposes that's to be expected. She's real, his Mom would remind him. Her voice is filled with real emotion.
He shakes his head. "No." Because he didn't. Not really. He knows every inch of her body, he knows every small mark, every little scratch they put on a polished surface and called it a girl. But he doesn't know her.
"Sometimes," she starts and looks up at the ceiling barely five feet above them. "Sometimes I think you do. Sometimes you look at me..." she trails off and looks back at him. "You look at me like you're expecting someone else," she say it like she expects him to say she's crazy.
He watches her and aches for Cameron. He aches for the expression on that perfect face that he knows well, not Allison's confusion. He bites his lip. He never was good with girls. Human girls at least.
"Who would I be expecting?" he tries to joke.
She shakes her head. "I don't know." She lets out a slow breath and he watches her chest rise and fall with bated breath as she struggles for her words. He thinks of how it's an involuntary response, how it's hard wired into their brain matter and they're not much different, them and the machines sometimes. Except this little programmed action is more than needed, this isn't just some code of programming written in to help them appear more human. He thinks he thinks too much.
"Allison..." he starts and the chickens out. What do you say? So sometime in the near future there's a good chance they'll take you, kill you and send a machine in to take your place. A machine I traveled through time for. Yeah, that would go over well. "You just.. you remind me of a girl I used to know," he finishes lamely. It was close enough to the truth as he could get.
She thinks this over. "Did you like her... this girl?" she finally asks.
He turns his head to meet her gaze. "It was... complicated."
She smiles a little. "Isn't it always?"
The silence is back. That weighted silence as they stare at each other. He wonders what she would feel like under his hands. If she'd be softer, warmer. He wonders what her hair is like, how it would compare to that stolen moment after he replaced Cameron's chip. He reminds himself that it isn't her. And even more, that she's Kyle's. She doesn't belong him. He turns his head away, stuttering over his words, "I need, I need to get some sleep."
She sits up and looks back to him for a moment. "John?"
He looks to her and damn if it doesn't just hurt sometimes. "Yeah?"
"I hope you find what you're looking for," she says and gets up, not looking back as she leaves..
2. Prompt: Girl Power
Character: Riley
She doesn't know how to be a teenager. She was just a kid when the bombs went off and all she knows is running and hiding (and not in that order necessarily) and eating garbage. She doesn't know how to wear jeans low on her hips, how to sway when she walks, how to make her hair shine and curl on the ends. She doesn't know the secret language of girls, the way they always seem to move in groups and the way their eyes look down on each other even as they ramble with incessant pet names and compliments.
She doesn't understand.
She watches teen dramas on television and watches as reality tries to imitate television trying to imitate reality. At her most frustrated she knows why the machines dropped the bombs. Teenagers scare her, they annoy her. They grate at every fiber of her being. She doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to be one of them and twirl her hair, make vapid comments and dwell on the most unimportant of things. The world burns and the only thing they ever seem concerned with is their prom dates.
She watches skinny, perfect blonds fall in love on tv. She listens to them compare love to butterflies in their stomachs, to tragedy and comedy all in one, she watches them declare themselves in the most dramatic of ways while rain tumbles down and soft rock plays in the background. She learns to be coy but memorable. Spunky but not too much. Sarcastic but never mean to the object of her affection. She learns that she must be sweet but mysterious, she has to sneak little glances and small smiles, vulnerable but not needy, interested but not too much.
And finally it's time. She sits in Jesse's car and watches teenage bodies pass them by. She is unprepared. She knows everything she has to do but she doesn't know how. But there is no time and she's thrust into a world she still doesn't truly understand. But then there's John. And then there's butterflies... and tragedy and comedy (because really this is the biggest fucking joke of them all) rolled into one. And suddenly she knows.