introspection and drabble
Sometimes, I wish I were brilliant to the point of pedanticism (is so a word! says I, without a trace of irony) at any language, that way I could always put into words what I was feeling. As it stands, my current vocabulary leaves me at a disadvantage nearly 99.8 per cent of the time.
I thought I'd try to write something, anyway. But not about me. That sort of thing is never very interesting, is it? ;)
Title: Masquerade (Pattern 1940)
Fandom/Challenge: Doctor Who. Kinda-sorta response to the dw100 prompt "Mask." (I say kinda-sorta because I'm not sure I'm ready for hundreds of people to read it yet. Might 'spoon it later, don't really know.)
Word Count: 100
Characters: The Doctor (11th)
He was a thousand years old when he joined the service.
He eagerly swapped an untouched Vickers for a spot on a Tiffy. The tail fluttered, and he felt he was growing rather bored with plummeting to his death.
He ended up in an Arbeitskommando two days later. He quickly decided he didn’t want to be there anymore, then escaped with bullets in his mind.
He was around nine hundred years old when he found out he was going to die. Consequently, he courted Death wherever he went; it was a timeless masquerade ball, and the spectre wore its own face.
I thought I'd try to write something, anyway. But not about me. That sort of thing is never very interesting, is it? ;)
Title: Masquerade (Pattern 1940)
Fandom/Challenge: Doctor Who. Kinda-sorta response to the dw100 prompt "Mask." (I say kinda-sorta because I'm not sure I'm ready for hundreds of people to read it yet. Might 'spoon it later, don't really know.)
Word Count: 100
Characters: The Doctor (11th)
He was a thousand years old when he joined the service.
He eagerly swapped an untouched Vickers for a spot on a Tiffy. The tail fluttered, and he felt he was growing rather bored with plummeting to his death.
He ended up in an Arbeitskommando two days later. He quickly decided he didn’t want to be there anymore, then escaped with bullets in his mind.
He was around nine hundred years old when he found out he was going to die. Consequently, he courted Death wherever he went; it was a timeless masquerade ball, and the spectre wore its own face.