DW Fic: Rhyme and Rhythm (drabble)
title Rhyme and Rhythm
author charlottetrips
character Clara Oswald
rating, wordcount G, 168
genre introspection, drabble
summary There’s a rhythm to the rain and a rhyme she cannot name. Written for Drabble Challenge #21 @ who-contest
Heavy drops hit the window sill, breaking on contact, dispersing, hitting her as she sits next to the open glass. She can see that the rain’s just going to get worse as the thunder clouds roll in and the sky grows darker, but she doesn’t move away.
She wants to feel the air, the electricity build up and release, experience the minute shock of each raindrop.
Rain feels like forgiveness. Like love and understanding and the beautiful sadness of it all.
She doesn’t know why but she feels like crying and laughing every time the skies open up.
Clever…
Is it madness?
Remember…
Or is it simply a thin strand of a memory so distant that it’s too indistinct to make out?
She squints her eyes like she can make it focus but this feeling never coalesces into something tangible.
Sighing, she brings her head to rest in her arms, closing her eyes, letting the rhythm of the weather and the rhyme of times past wash over her.
author charlottetrips
character Clara Oswald
rating, wordcount G, 168
genre introspection, drabble
summary There’s a rhythm to the rain and a rhyme she cannot name. Written for Drabble Challenge #21 @ who-contest
Heavy drops hit the window sill, breaking on contact, dispersing, hitting her as she sits next to the open glass. She can see that the rain’s just going to get worse as the thunder clouds roll in and the sky grows darker, but she doesn’t move away.
She wants to feel the air, the electricity build up and release, experience the minute shock of each raindrop.
Rain feels like forgiveness. Like love and understanding and the beautiful sadness of it all.
She doesn’t know why but she feels like crying and laughing every time the skies open up.
Clever…
Is it madness?
Remember…
Or is it simply a thin strand of a memory so distant that it’s too indistinct to make out?
She squints her eyes like she can make it focus but this feeling never coalesces into something tangible.
Sighing, she brings her head to rest in her arms, closing her eyes, letting the rhythm of the weather and the rhyme of times past wash over her.