Contest entry
This is my entry for word challenge number three: beach. :) It's not smut, sorry everyone... *acknowledges groan of the crowd*
Oh and if this post has weird formatting please direct your complaints to the eMac. (I love Macs, this one is just getting old.)
Title: Overcast
Words: 1,047 (I went a little over the limit...)
Genre(s): Angst/General
Rating: PG
Notes: Not explicitly stated, but since it's KakaSaku they do have some sort of relationship...
Sakura dragged her finger through the gritty sand. It didn’t matter that she would get sand beneath her nails; they were already caked with dirt and blood. She traced nonsense words, letters that looked pretty together but didn’t mean anything. Grains rose in miniature mountains alongside the thin valleys she dug, majestic formations of brown sugar that looped and crisscrossed arbitrarily.
Footsteps crunched towards her, crushing tiny shells beneath sandaled feet. She kept her eyes glued to her masterpiece but noticed him passing in her peripheral vision, a slow blob of black.
He stopped a little further down the beach. Without looking up she could guess his posture: hands in pockets, slouching. Just in case, her eyes flickered up to verify. Yep. She returned to her work.
His sigh was lost on the idle breeze that drifted through the beach. It made his long gray bangs dance in his vision, although it didn’t affect the view much; the skies were overcast. Gray on gray. He fancied that maybe behind them there was a brilliant, bloodred sunset, maybe to match the flecks of blood crusting in his matted mane… but there was nothing to see.
Dead stalks stood fragile on the shore, bent and yellow. Not even yellow, really. Maybe a washed out beige. Nothing had real color on this desolate beach.
Kakashi looked over his shoulder at Sakura. Even her pink hair was muted in this unfriendly atmosphere. His lips dipped in a frown.
“What are you drawing?” His voice was raspy with strain.
She did not look up at him, which was a pity, because he wanted to see her eyes. “I’m not drawing,” she said. Her voice was empty of inflection.
Interest stirred despite his exhaustion, peeking hopefully through the many layers of weariness and sorrow. In spite of himself he turned his body to fully face where she crouched, his back to the endless sea of nothing. He scanned the lines in the sand, trying to make sense of the jumble. “Then what is it?”
He actually sounded a little amused; however, Sakura was only irked by his question. “Can’t you tell?” she asked.
Kakashi dropped his head a little lower, squinting at the meaningless squiggles.
“Nope.”
Green flashed at him in a tantalizing instant as she rolled her eyes, but then they were back to the ground and he could only see the curve of her lashes. “They’re words.”
A pale gray eyebrow rose in incredulity. “Words.” His hand slithered out of his pocket to scratch at his masked chin; his stubble was uncomfortably prickly, but he wouldn’t risk shaving with a kunai.
She found his repetition suspicious. His earlier wish was satisfied with a green glare directed at him; yes, her eyes still retained their luminous quality even in the midst of this dreary landscape. Somehow this made things better.
“Of course they’re words,” she said crossly.
Kakashi’s hand returned to his pocket. “In what language?”
Ah. Downcast again. He wished she’d kept looking at him; her eyes were very pretty.
“Well, they’re combinations of words, I think…” Despite her defense of her work, she didn’t seem very sure of what she was doing.
“You think?” He stepped forward with the crackling of broken shells. When he stopped, he only smudged the outer edges of the mess sprawling around her.
She frowned at his feet. “Those are their homes, you know.” He lifted a foot, inspecting the white pieces poking out of the sand. Both of them ignored the crusty stains beneath his nails.
“Sorry,” he said unapologetically. “But if they’re stuck in such a miserable place as this, maybe it’s better that they move on…”
Sakura shrugged. “They’re all empty, anyway.”
“Cruel fate,” Kakashi sighed. “Left on this creepy beach…”
She looked up at him again; he seemed tense. His leg was still bent, his foot hovering level with the opposite knee. “You really don't like it here, do you?”
The dark eye that met hers was heavily lidded and shadowed by his hair. He hunched his shoulders, swallowing his neck in the black fabric. It must have been an optical illusion, but his tattoo looked like it was throbbing against his pale skin. “I just miss the trees.”
She broke the eye contact and sat back on her knees. Her hands rested on her thighs, which were clothed in the warm black material of the black ops pants. She wasn’t a member of the organization, but she had been asked to don the attire in order to match her partner on this doomed mission. She splayed her fingers, noticing the contrast between her pale skin and the dark cloth.
When she looked up again, Kakashi had his back to her. He was returning to the edge of the sand, slowly padding along the pockmarked beach. She watched his progress until his movements trailed off into a stop.
It looked like he was ready to be swallowed. The gray sky loomed over him; he was only a tiny break in the gloomy monotony, and he wasn’t even that different from it. The white and black of his uniform, his gray hair, and his pale skin matched the color scheme; if she squinted it looked like he was part of a black and white photograph.
He surprised her by slipping his foot out of his sandal. Gingerly he set it on the sand; if he had stepped on a shell he didn’t show it. He wriggled his toes experimentally; she watched the shiver run through his body as he touched them to the water.
Soon he had lost the other shoe and was standing barefoot on the beach. The gentle waves lapped halfheartedly at his uneven nails, bathing his feet in murky water. His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a long, weary breath.
She watched him. She wondered if his eyes were closed, or if he was watching the rhythmic motion of the waves. Her eyes flickered down to his feet. Maybe she imagined it, but she thought she saw a trickle of brownish red in the water that receded from his foot. She had healed the sensitive skin beneath his nails, but now the evidence of his injuries was being washed away from his aching feet and this melancholy beach…
Oh and if this post has weird formatting please direct your complaints to the eMac. (I love Macs, this one is just getting old.)
Title: Overcast
Words: 1,047 (I went a little over the limit...)
Genre(s): Angst/General
Rating: PG
Notes: Not explicitly stated, but since it's KakaSaku they do have some sort of relationship...
Sakura dragged her finger through the gritty sand. It didn’t matter that she would get sand beneath her nails; they were already caked with dirt and blood. She traced nonsense words, letters that looked pretty together but didn’t mean anything. Grains rose in miniature mountains alongside the thin valleys she dug, majestic formations of brown sugar that looped and crisscrossed arbitrarily.
Footsteps crunched towards her, crushing tiny shells beneath sandaled feet. She kept her eyes glued to her masterpiece but noticed him passing in her peripheral vision, a slow blob of black.
He stopped a little further down the beach. Without looking up she could guess his posture: hands in pockets, slouching. Just in case, her eyes flickered up to verify. Yep. She returned to her work.
His sigh was lost on the idle breeze that drifted through the beach. It made his long gray bangs dance in his vision, although it didn’t affect the view much; the skies were overcast. Gray on gray. He fancied that maybe behind them there was a brilliant, bloodred sunset, maybe to match the flecks of blood crusting in his matted mane… but there was nothing to see.
Dead stalks stood fragile on the shore, bent and yellow. Not even yellow, really. Maybe a washed out beige. Nothing had real color on this desolate beach.
Kakashi looked over his shoulder at Sakura. Even her pink hair was muted in this unfriendly atmosphere. His lips dipped in a frown.
“What are you drawing?” His voice was raspy with strain.
She did not look up at him, which was a pity, because he wanted to see her eyes. “I’m not drawing,” she said. Her voice was empty of inflection.
Interest stirred despite his exhaustion, peeking hopefully through the many layers of weariness and sorrow. In spite of himself he turned his body to fully face where she crouched, his back to the endless sea of nothing. He scanned the lines in the sand, trying to make sense of the jumble. “Then what is it?”
He actually sounded a little amused; however, Sakura was only irked by his question. “Can’t you tell?” she asked.
Kakashi dropped his head a little lower, squinting at the meaningless squiggles.
“Nope.”
Green flashed at him in a tantalizing instant as she rolled her eyes, but then they were back to the ground and he could only see the curve of her lashes. “They’re words.”
A pale gray eyebrow rose in incredulity. “Words.” His hand slithered out of his pocket to scratch at his masked chin; his stubble was uncomfortably prickly, but he wouldn’t risk shaving with a kunai.
She found his repetition suspicious. His earlier wish was satisfied with a green glare directed at him; yes, her eyes still retained their luminous quality even in the midst of this dreary landscape. Somehow this made things better.
“Of course they’re words,” she said crossly.
Kakashi’s hand returned to his pocket. “In what language?”
Ah. Downcast again. He wished she’d kept looking at him; her eyes were very pretty.
“Well, they’re combinations of words, I think…” Despite her defense of her work, she didn’t seem very sure of what she was doing.
“You think?” He stepped forward with the crackling of broken shells. When he stopped, he only smudged the outer edges of the mess sprawling around her.
She frowned at his feet. “Those are their homes, you know.” He lifted a foot, inspecting the white pieces poking out of the sand. Both of them ignored the crusty stains beneath his nails.
“Sorry,” he said unapologetically. “But if they’re stuck in such a miserable place as this, maybe it’s better that they move on…”
Sakura shrugged. “They’re all empty, anyway.”
“Cruel fate,” Kakashi sighed. “Left on this creepy beach…”
She looked up at him again; he seemed tense. His leg was still bent, his foot hovering level with the opposite knee. “You really don't like it here, do you?”
The dark eye that met hers was heavily lidded and shadowed by his hair. He hunched his shoulders, swallowing his neck in the black fabric. It must have been an optical illusion, but his tattoo looked like it was throbbing against his pale skin. “I just miss the trees.”
She broke the eye contact and sat back on her knees. Her hands rested on her thighs, which were clothed in the warm black material of the black ops pants. She wasn’t a member of the organization, but she had been asked to don the attire in order to match her partner on this doomed mission. She splayed her fingers, noticing the contrast between her pale skin and the dark cloth.
When she looked up again, Kakashi had his back to her. He was returning to the edge of the sand, slowly padding along the pockmarked beach. She watched his progress until his movements trailed off into a stop.
It looked like he was ready to be swallowed. The gray sky loomed over him; he was only a tiny break in the gloomy monotony, and he wasn’t even that different from it. The white and black of his uniform, his gray hair, and his pale skin matched the color scheme; if she squinted it looked like he was part of a black and white photograph.
He surprised her by slipping his foot out of his sandal. Gingerly he set it on the sand; if he had stepped on a shell he didn’t show it. He wriggled his toes experimentally; she watched the shiver run through his body as he touched them to the water.
Soon he had lost the other shoe and was standing barefoot on the beach. The gentle waves lapped halfheartedly at his uneven nails, bathing his feet in murky water. His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a long, weary breath.
She watched him. She wondered if his eyes were closed, or if he was watching the rhythmic motion of the waves. Her eyes flickered down to his feet. Maybe she imagined it, but she thought she saw a trickle of brownish red in the water that receded from his foot. She had healed the sensitive skin beneath his nails, but now the evidence of his injuries was being washed away from his aching feet and this melancholy beach…