HumpDay101 #5 (angst week)
Title: Fading
Author: enchanted_jae
Character(s): George
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Character death implied, angst
Word count: 250
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: hump_day101 Prompt #5 (angst week) - fading light
Summary: George can't find peace.
The day was drawing to a close, and still George toiled in his mother's garden next to the ramshackle house. He was busily pulling weeds by hand, intent on his task. George did everything with focus and grim determination these days; it was the only way he could get by without breaking down.
The loss of his twin had left George with a physical ache that went soul deep. He could distract himself from the pain by working until he was exhausted, although the hurting never went away. George knew his family worried about him, especially his mother, but his burden was too private and painful to share. Each member of the family grieved for Fred, of course, but none of them carried that great gaping emptiness within the way that George did.
George paused to brush his sweat-damp fringe from his eyes. He stood and stretched up on the balls of his feet to relieve the dull ache in his lower back. He glanced at the window and saw not just his own reflection, but that of his twin behind him. George whirled with a welcoming smile on his face.
There was no one there.
George looked back at the window and saw only his own reflection. Dejected, his shoulders slumped, and he sank to his knees in the dirt once more. Fred was dead, and he wasn't coming back. George's glimpse of him had been nothing but a trick of the fading light.
Author: enchanted_jae
Character(s): George
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Character death implied, angst
Word count: 250
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: hump_day101 Prompt #5 (angst week) - fading light
Summary: George can't find peace.
The day was drawing to a close, and still George toiled in his mother's garden next to the ramshackle house. He was busily pulling weeds by hand, intent on his task. George did everything with focus and grim determination these days; it was the only way he could get by without breaking down.
The loss of his twin had left George with a physical ache that went soul deep. He could distract himself from the pain by working until he was exhausted, although the hurting never went away. George knew his family worried about him, especially his mother, but his burden was too private and painful to share. Each member of the family grieved for Fred, of course, but none of them carried that great gaping emptiness within the way that George did.
George paused to brush his sweat-damp fringe from his eyes. He stood and stretched up on the balls of his feet to relieve the dull ache in his lower back. He glanced at the window and saw not just his own reflection, but that of his twin behind him. George whirled with a welcoming smile on his face.
There was no one there.
George looked back at the window and saw only his own reflection. Dejected, his shoulders slumped, and he sank to his knees in the dirt once more. Fred was dead, and he wasn't coming back. George's glimpse of him had been nothing but a trick of the fading light.