Brigit's Flame Week 1 May
Title: Raven
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1830
Prompt: “good omens”, first line: “There was a spark”, “verisimilitude”
A/N: This was written for week #1 at Brigits_Flame, the advanced level.
There was a spark. The smell of sulfur filled their noses, then the match guttered out in the damp of the cave.
“Give it here; you're not doing it right and we only have a half a pack left,” Maggie said, grabbing the box. These were the real deal and high class; they'd snitched them last month from that fancy restaurant over on Fifth Street. These came in a box with pictures of a fox hunt on it and had tips rolled in gold dust. Maggie struck the match almost without trembling and lit the candle. “See?” she asked in satisfaction. “That's how you do it.”
“I know,” Elliot replied. “It was a gust of wind, that's all. I could have done it if you hadn't grabbed it. Sheesh.”
“Right. Let's see what we have today. Open the bag!” Maggie craned her neck to get a look.
“Uh-uh.” Elliot held the neck of the sack closed. “First the Pirate's Creed, right?”
“Oh yes!” Maggie cleared her throat. “It's my solemn vow to be a true friend, to never welsh on a bet, to stand up to my promises within the code and to protect my friends-”
“With my life, if need be,” Elliot finished. He spit on his palm. “Forever and ever, may death see us dancing in Hell together!”
Maggie grinned and mirrored his gesture. “Friends forever!” The slick feel of his palm against hers was comforting in the dimness of their special place.
“Now, onto the first order of business.” Elliot pulled away first and wiped his hands on his jeans before he opened the bag. “I have a real find this week.”
“What?” Maggie tried for disinterested, but the curiosity in her tone was evident even to her own ears. “What do you have?”
“This,” Elliot said as he pulled a dead bird from the bag.
Maggie's stomach turned as she registered the lifeless flopping of the black feathers. The eye sockets were gaping and empty. Was that a maggot? She swallowed, hoping to cover her squeamishness. “Um, what? A dead crow?”
Elliot's arm dropped slightly and the bird waggled in accordance, the feathers more graceful in death than she would have expected. “No, dummy. This is a raven. Duh.” He waited.
“Oh. Okay.” She nodded and stared at the corpse.
Elliot hefted a sigh. “The Fates used to take the form of ravens and go out on the battlefield to pick the eyes of the dead.”
“Yeah, which is why … ?” Maggie trailed off. “You know, I thought maybe you were going to steal Old Lady Wilson's garden gnome or something.”
“I just thought it was neat, neater than an old statue that no one cares about.” Elliot threw the bird on the shelf they'd rigged up. “This is a crime, too, you know.”
“What? Mrs. Wilson had a pet crow?” Maggie lifted an eyebrow. That would be impressive.
“No! And it's a raven. You're supposed to leave roadkill on the road. There's a fine for it, you know. You can get in a lot of trouble.” Elliot stuck his lip out. “I could have gotten in a serious situation if I'd been caught.”
Maggie crossed her arms. “Yeah. That's … really bad of you. Well, we can't leave it here. It's going to rot and goo up the rest of the stuff.”
“That's the best of the lot!” Elliot said. “Better than your stupid horseshoe!”
“Now wait a minute!” Maggie's temper rose. “I had to sneak into the Sullivan stables to get that. I almost got kicked in the head for that!”
“Ha! By a mule.”
“A goat,” Maggie said. “And don't you dare make fun of me, Elliot Granger. At least I didn't bring some dead crow in here!”
“Fine, if that's how you feel, then I'll just take my raven and go find someone else to play pirate with!” He grabbed it and stuffed it in the sack and made his way to the mouth of the cave, stumbling as he went.
Maggie's heart beat in her chest as she watched the errant black feathers settle all over their hideout. He didn't mean that. They'd been best friends forever. “But you don't mean that!” She called after him. “You 'll be back, right? Tomorrow?”
Silence
A beat before she was ready to run after him and apologize, she heard:
“Tomorrow,” from the entrance of the cave, and she smiled. Friends forever.
*
There was a spark. She giggled as he lit her cigarette with a flair and handed it to her before lighting his own.
“Thanks,” she said and took a puff. Smoking was still new and dangerous enough that it seemed like an illicit thrill to them both.
Elliot nodded and leaned against the wall. “How long today?”
“An hour,” Maggie answered. “I have to work.” She made a face.
“So why are you here? That isn't much time.” He blew out a stream of smoke and turned to look at her.
“I always know where to find you.” Maggie smiled, but it faded when he didn't return it. The time for that was slipping away. “You know I'd rather be here than anywhere else.”
“So you say,” Elliot took another drag, and the moments collided into themselves. “I wonder when you mean it?”
“That isn't fair, Elliot.” Maggie threw down her cigarette and crushed the ember beneath her heel. “Why isn't it ever enough for you?”
“Because I am sick with longing for you, can't you see it?” Elliot's eyes glowed, and he pushed her against the wall of their childhood, that place of sanctuary. “It is never enough. I will take all that you have to give and more. Is that so upsetting for you to hear? Well, it's upsetting for me to live with you just out of reach!”
Maggie's breath caught as she faced his need of her, and her indecision transfixed her. She was caught as surely as she had ever been, and she had no notion of the right way to turn. The merest breath of wind would sway her at this moment, yet she stood, waiting. She would have waited forever.
A bird flew overhead, its call breaking through her trance. She gazed at it through the mouth of the cave, the dark of its sleek form so free in flight. “Do you love me?” she asked.
“With everything that I am,” he answered.
And with her eyes on the raven, she made her decision and reached for her future almost without trembling.
*
There was a spark. Maggie startled as the thunder crashed; there was a storm blowing in and she hadn't noticed until just this moment. That was her life these days, though: she was unaware of the maelstrom until it was too late to escape impending disaster. Another flash of lightning lit the sky, but Maggie blinked it away. If she was still standing after all she had been through, the elements would not be the thing to bring her to her knees.
As the rain poured on her, what shook Maggie from her lassitude was not injury but discomfort, and she began to wish she had taken up moping somewhere dry. The skies opened up and sheets of water fell, soaking her with an icy deluge. Her mind turned to paths of habit and her feet took her to the place she had convinced herself she'd forgotten.
Maggie stepped under the outcropping of stone. She hadn't been here since … she shook her head. At least it was dry. As soon as the rain stopped, she was leaving.
Her gaze fell on a colorful wrapper and she cocked her head. Of course the local kids probably made good use of it, but in her day she and Elliot-Maggie winced. Elliot. She tried not to think the name. A fresh peal of pain rang out, vibrating in her core. Was she never to be free of him?
How could she be? Anguish melted over her when she realized that every memory included him as far back as she could care to recall. There was the thought of sitting next to him in kindergarten, there he was in her backyard kiddie pool. Summer barbecues, winters sledding down the big hill, every holiday and season had his flavor. This cave … Maggie stormed back and saw through tears the remnants of their growing up years. How could the things they'd collected still even be here? She bent over to pick up an old piece of cloth. Yes, now she remembered this. It had red and white stripes, and Elliot had worn it as a sash one fall during their pirate phase. She let it flutter to the floor. There was a shard of broken teacup that he'd taken from his mother's tea service. She smiled. Mrs. Granger had never known why she'd been short one rose cup from the set.
Maggie's legs gave out and she slid against the wall. Here she was, crying like a girl. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. It was better to do it here than at home where the kids could see. She picked up a black feather and a fresh wave of grief poured over her. What did that girl have that she didn't? Elliot was Maggie's, always had been. They had a history. How could he leave his whole life and every memory for … nothingness? A blank slate? Maggie stared at the crow's feather.
Wait.
She gazed at the sheen on the vanes. Even in the murky light of the cave, she could see the delicate iridescence where the barbs met the shaft. It really was a thing of beauty, though she had never taken the time to study it before. A raven's feather, that's what Elliot had called it. Maggie bit her lip and studied it a moment as she twisted it between her fingers.
it's upsetting for me to live with you just out of reach …
Maggie sat up. She could hear those words as clearly as if Elliot had just said them. They took on a new meaning in the intervening years. Had she always been out of reach? She studied the feather.
The rain stopped. Maggie sighed and stood up. It was time to go home. She had to get used to a new life now, one where she made her own way. The truth changed sometimes, but she would change with it. Maggie nearly dropped the feather but changed her mind, and at the last second she tucked it behind her ear instead, almost without trembling, and stepped into her future.
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1830
Prompt: “good omens”, first line: “There was a spark”, “verisimilitude”
A/N: This was written for week #1 at Brigits_Flame, the advanced level.
There was a spark. The smell of sulfur filled their noses, then the match guttered out in the damp of the cave.
“Give it here; you're not doing it right and we only have a half a pack left,” Maggie said, grabbing the box. These were the real deal and high class; they'd snitched them last month from that fancy restaurant over on Fifth Street. These came in a box with pictures of a fox hunt on it and had tips rolled in gold dust. Maggie struck the match almost without trembling and lit the candle. “See?” she asked in satisfaction. “That's how you do it.”
“I know,” Elliot replied. “It was a gust of wind, that's all. I could have done it if you hadn't grabbed it. Sheesh.”
“Right. Let's see what we have today. Open the bag!” Maggie craned her neck to get a look.
“Uh-uh.” Elliot held the neck of the sack closed. “First the Pirate's Creed, right?”
“Oh yes!” Maggie cleared her throat. “It's my solemn vow to be a true friend, to never welsh on a bet, to stand up to my promises within the code and to protect my friends-”
“With my life, if need be,” Elliot finished. He spit on his palm. “Forever and ever, may death see us dancing in Hell together!”
Maggie grinned and mirrored his gesture. “Friends forever!” The slick feel of his palm against hers was comforting in the dimness of their special place.
“Now, onto the first order of business.” Elliot pulled away first and wiped his hands on his jeans before he opened the bag. “I have a real find this week.”
“What?” Maggie tried for disinterested, but the curiosity in her tone was evident even to her own ears. “What do you have?”
“This,” Elliot said as he pulled a dead bird from the bag.
Maggie's stomach turned as she registered the lifeless flopping of the black feathers. The eye sockets were gaping and empty. Was that a maggot? She swallowed, hoping to cover her squeamishness. “Um, what? A dead crow?”
Elliot's arm dropped slightly and the bird waggled in accordance, the feathers more graceful in death than she would have expected. “No, dummy. This is a raven. Duh.” He waited.
“Oh. Okay.” She nodded and stared at the corpse.
Elliot hefted a sigh. “The Fates used to take the form of ravens and go out on the battlefield to pick the eyes of the dead.”
“Yeah, which is why … ?” Maggie trailed off. “You know, I thought maybe you were going to steal Old Lady Wilson's garden gnome or something.”
“I just thought it was neat, neater than an old statue that no one cares about.” Elliot threw the bird on the shelf they'd rigged up. “This is a crime, too, you know.”
“What? Mrs. Wilson had a pet crow?” Maggie lifted an eyebrow. That would be impressive.
“No! And it's a raven. You're supposed to leave roadkill on the road. There's a fine for it, you know. You can get in a lot of trouble.” Elliot stuck his lip out. “I could have gotten in a serious situation if I'd been caught.”
Maggie crossed her arms. “Yeah. That's … really bad of you. Well, we can't leave it here. It's going to rot and goo up the rest of the stuff.”
“That's the best of the lot!” Elliot said. “Better than your stupid horseshoe!”
“Now wait a minute!” Maggie's temper rose. “I had to sneak into the Sullivan stables to get that. I almost got kicked in the head for that!”
“Ha! By a mule.”
“A goat,” Maggie said. “And don't you dare make fun of me, Elliot Granger. At least I didn't bring some dead crow in here!”
“Fine, if that's how you feel, then I'll just take my raven and go find someone else to play pirate with!” He grabbed it and stuffed it in the sack and made his way to the mouth of the cave, stumbling as he went.
Maggie's heart beat in her chest as she watched the errant black feathers settle all over their hideout. He didn't mean that. They'd been best friends forever. “But you don't mean that!” She called after him. “You 'll be back, right? Tomorrow?”
Silence
A beat before she was ready to run after him and apologize, she heard:
“Tomorrow,” from the entrance of the cave, and she smiled. Friends forever.
*
There was a spark. She giggled as he lit her cigarette with a flair and handed it to her before lighting his own.
“Thanks,” she said and took a puff. Smoking was still new and dangerous enough that it seemed like an illicit thrill to them both.
Elliot nodded and leaned against the wall. “How long today?”
“An hour,” Maggie answered. “I have to work.” She made a face.
“So why are you here? That isn't much time.” He blew out a stream of smoke and turned to look at her.
“I always know where to find you.” Maggie smiled, but it faded when he didn't return it. The time for that was slipping away. “You know I'd rather be here than anywhere else.”
“So you say,” Elliot took another drag, and the moments collided into themselves. “I wonder when you mean it?”
“That isn't fair, Elliot.” Maggie threw down her cigarette and crushed the ember beneath her heel. “Why isn't it ever enough for you?”
“Because I am sick with longing for you, can't you see it?” Elliot's eyes glowed, and he pushed her against the wall of their childhood, that place of sanctuary. “It is never enough. I will take all that you have to give and more. Is that so upsetting for you to hear? Well, it's upsetting for me to live with you just out of reach!”
Maggie's breath caught as she faced his need of her, and her indecision transfixed her. She was caught as surely as she had ever been, and she had no notion of the right way to turn. The merest breath of wind would sway her at this moment, yet she stood, waiting. She would have waited forever.
A bird flew overhead, its call breaking through her trance. She gazed at it through the mouth of the cave, the dark of its sleek form so free in flight. “Do you love me?” she asked.
“With everything that I am,” he answered.
And with her eyes on the raven, she made her decision and reached for her future almost without trembling.
*
There was a spark. Maggie startled as the thunder crashed; there was a storm blowing in and she hadn't noticed until just this moment. That was her life these days, though: she was unaware of the maelstrom until it was too late to escape impending disaster. Another flash of lightning lit the sky, but Maggie blinked it away. If she was still standing after all she had been through, the elements would not be the thing to bring her to her knees.
As the rain poured on her, what shook Maggie from her lassitude was not injury but discomfort, and she began to wish she had taken up moping somewhere dry. The skies opened up and sheets of water fell, soaking her with an icy deluge. Her mind turned to paths of habit and her feet took her to the place she had convinced herself she'd forgotten.
Maggie stepped under the outcropping of stone. She hadn't been here since … she shook her head. At least it was dry. As soon as the rain stopped, she was leaving.
Her gaze fell on a colorful wrapper and she cocked her head. Of course the local kids probably made good use of it, but in her day she and Elliot-Maggie winced. Elliot. She tried not to think the name. A fresh peal of pain rang out, vibrating in her core. Was she never to be free of him?
How could she be? Anguish melted over her when she realized that every memory included him as far back as she could care to recall. There was the thought of sitting next to him in kindergarten, there he was in her backyard kiddie pool. Summer barbecues, winters sledding down the big hill, every holiday and season had his flavor. This cave … Maggie stormed back and saw through tears the remnants of their growing up years. How could the things they'd collected still even be here? She bent over to pick up an old piece of cloth. Yes, now she remembered this. It had red and white stripes, and Elliot had worn it as a sash one fall during their pirate phase. She let it flutter to the floor. There was a shard of broken teacup that he'd taken from his mother's tea service. She smiled. Mrs. Granger had never known why she'd been short one rose cup from the set.
Maggie's legs gave out and she slid against the wall. Here she was, crying like a girl. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. It was better to do it here than at home where the kids could see. She picked up a black feather and a fresh wave of grief poured over her. What did that girl have that she didn't? Elliot was Maggie's, always had been. They had a history. How could he leave his whole life and every memory for … nothingness? A blank slate? Maggie stared at the crow's feather.
Wait.
She gazed at the sheen on the vanes. Even in the murky light of the cave, she could see the delicate iridescence where the barbs met the shaft. It really was a thing of beauty, though she had never taken the time to study it before. A raven's feather, that's what Elliot had called it. Maggie bit her lip and studied it a moment as she twisted it between her fingers.
it's upsetting for me to live with you just out of reach …
Maggie sat up. She could hear those words as clearly as if Elliot had just said them. They took on a new meaning in the intervening years. Had she always been out of reach? She studied the feather.
The rain stopped. Maggie sighed and stood up. It was time to go home. She had to get used to a new life now, one where she made her own way. The truth changed sometimes, but she would change with it. Maggie nearly dropped the feather but changed her mind, and at the last second she tucked it behind her ear instead, almost without trembling, and stepped into her future.