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HT100 Oz Flash Fiction Challenge #2 - Storytelling
Title: It Says We're Saved
Prompt: "Storytelling"
Rating: 13+ (swearing)
Word Count: 670 words
Disclaimer: Oz belongs to its rightful owners. I take no credit.
Summary: "Ryan...What happens at the end of the bible?"
"It says that we're saved."
"Lights out! Lights out!"
Sean Murphy called his warning before the pods of Em City were bathed in darkness. They would continue to stay this way for a further eight hours, until life was restored to them once more.
Ryan O'Reily leaned back on his bed and pressed his eyes shut, grateful that he could finally get some sleep in this piss hole. Another day of dealing with Adebisi's shit in the kitchen was enough to make any man want to fall into the land of dreams and never wake up again.
"Ryan...?"
Ryan supressed an angry sigh at his brother's voice. "What is it, Cyril?" He couldn't keep annoyance from tinging his tone.
"I can't sleep."
"Stop talking, close your eyes, and you will." Ryan practiced what he preached, rolling onto his side and settling deeper into the pillow. Prison beds were far from comfortable, but this one felt like heaven.
"Can't sleep, Ryan." Cyril's own tone was a complete mixture of anger and annoyance.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This would be a long night. "What do you want me to do about?" And he let that repressed angry sigh erupt into his voice.
"Tell me a story."
Ryan clenched his eyes and jaw shut. "I'm not telling you a fucking story. I'm tired, Cyril, go to sleep."
He felt the bunk bed shake and Cyril's loud voice was at his ear. "Momma always told us stories."
Ryan kept his eyes shut, hoping his brother would just get exhausted and decide to go to sleep. Ryan didn't know any stories, unless Cyril was interested in the drug trade schedule of Oz.
"Cyril, Mom stopped telling us stories when we were like fiv-" Ryan cracked his eyes open to look at his brother and, with an audible sigh, shuffled over to let Cyril lie on the bed next to him. "What kind of story do you wanna hear?"
Ryan figured he could bullshit something that vaguely resembled the fairy tale Cyril would demand. He couldn't remember the plot of the stories their mother told them as children, and since Cyril had the head injury, he'd be even less likely to remember, right?
"King Cu Rucha had three daughters -"
Not the case.
"He lived in TirConal, Ryan," Cyril demanded.
"King Cu Rucha lived in TirConal," Yeah, Ryan was petty with keeping his voice condescending, "And had three daughters. Their names were Fair, Brown, and Trembling.
"Fair and Brown had nice clothes, and got to go to church every Sunday -"
"We used to go to church, didn't we, Ryan?"
So obviously Cyril didn't care that much for fairy tales, anyway. "We still go to church," Ryan pressed. He didn't think Cyril's memory had actually been all that bad over the last few years, was it finally catching up now?
"Yeah, but remember Momma used to take us to the big church, with the paintings in the windows?"
"You mean stained glass windows?"
Cyril shrugged, broad shoulders crashing into Ryan and white-blonde rising up. Cyril needed a haircut, not that it really mattered here in the merry ol' Land of Oz.
"You miss going to church?"
"Sometimes. I miss seeing Momma, too."
Ryan moved a hand to rest around Cyril's shoulders, bringing his brother in closer and smoothing down his long hair. "I miss her, too, buddy."
"Ryan," Cyril was looking up at him now, eyes big, "What happens at the end of the bible?"
Ryan bit down on his lip, squinting in concentration as he tried to remember some Revelation's reading Father Ray might have spoken about at mass. He couldn't actually think about what had happened, but he didn't think it took a genius to guess. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on Ryan's part, that deep secret he just wanted to hear.
"It says that we're saved," Ryan said, then he loosened his grip on his brother, "Now head to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."
And Cyril did.
Prompt: "Storytelling"
Rating: 13+ (swearing)
Word Count: 670 words
Disclaimer: Oz belongs to its rightful owners. I take no credit.
Summary: "Ryan...What happens at the end of the bible?"
"It says that we're saved."
"Lights out! Lights out!"
Sean Murphy called his warning before the pods of Em City were bathed in darkness. They would continue to stay this way for a further eight hours, until life was restored to them once more.
Ryan O'Reily leaned back on his bed and pressed his eyes shut, grateful that he could finally get some sleep in this piss hole. Another day of dealing with Adebisi's shit in the kitchen was enough to make any man want to fall into the land of dreams and never wake up again.
"Ryan...?"
Ryan supressed an angry sigh at his brother's voice. "What is it, Cyril?" He couldn't keep annoyance from tinging his tone.
"I can't sleep."
"Stop talking, close your eyes, and you will." Ryan practiced what he preached, rolling onto his side and settling deeper into the pillow. Prison beds were far from comfortable, but this one felt like heaven.
"Can't sleep, Ryan." Cyril's own tone was a complete mixture of anger and annoyance.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This would be a long night. "What do you want me to do about?" And he let that repressed angry sigh erupt into his voice.
"Tell me a story."
Ryan clenched his eyes and jaw shut. "I'm not telling you a fucking story. I'm tired, Cyril, go to sleep."
He felt the bunk bed shake and Cyril's loud voice was at his ear. "Momma always told us stories."
Ryan kept his eyes shut, hoping his brother would just get exhausted and decide to go to sleep. Ryan didn't know any stories, unless Cyril was interested in the drug trade schedule of Oz.
"Cyril, Mom stopped telling us stories when we were like fiv-" Ryan cracked his eyes open to look at his brother and, with an audible sigh, shuffled over to let Cyril lie on the bed next to him. "What kind of story do you wanna hear?"
Ryan figured he could bullshit something that vaguely resembled the fairy tale Cyril would demand. He couldn't remember the plot of the stories their mother told them as children, and since Cyril had the head injury, he'd be even less likely to remember, right?
"King Cu Rucha had three daughters -"
Not the case.
"He lived in TirConal, Ryan," Cyril demanded.
"King Cu Rucha lived in TirConal," Yeah, Ryan was petty with keeping his voice condescending, "And had three daughters. Their names were Fair, Brown, and Trembling.
"Fair and Brown had nice clothes, and got to go to church every Sunday -"
"We used to go to church, didn't we, Ryan?"
So obviously Cyril didn't care that much for fairy tales, anyway. "We still go to church," Ryan pressed. He didn't think Cyril's memory had actually been all that bad over the last few years, was it finally catching up now?
"Yeah, but remember Momma used to take us to the big church, with the paintings in the windows?"
"You mean stained glass windows?"
Cyril shrugged, broad shoulders crashing into Ryan and white-blonde rising up. Cyril needed a haircut, not that it really mattered here in the merry ol' Land of Oz.
"You miss going to church?"
"Sometimes. I miss seeing Momma, too."
Ryan moved a hand to rest around Cyril's shoulders, bringing his brother in closer and smoothing down his long hair. "I miss her, too, buddy."
"Ryan," Cyril was looking up at him now, eyes big, "What happens at the end of the bible?"
Ryan bit down on his lip, squinting in concentration as he tried to remember some Revelation's reading Father Ray might have spoken about at mass. He couldn't actually think about what had happened, but he didn't think it took a genius to guess. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on Ryan's part, that deep secret he just wanted to hear.
"It says that we're saved," Ryan said, then he loosened his grip on his brother, "Now head to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."
And Cyril did.