Drabble-o-rama
Um...
This is a ficlet. It is under-developed to the max. Basically, it's my first attempt at writing using the
15_minute_fic method - take a word, sit down and just write for 15 minutes solid. So I took a word from my own prompt table, '78 -Where?' and I wrote. I'd been thinking a lot in my own psychosomatic way, and listening to a lot of Fall Out Boy, and this is what happened. It's literally the first thing that poured out of my head, I haven't even spell checked it. As a standalone it's cheesy as fuck and oh-so-unrealistic, but it could stand to be developed.
I just needed to write, and write something with dialogue.....
*
‘Where do you go?’ he asks.
I blink. His face is part amusement, part concern.
‘Where do I go when?’ I ask, genuinely bemused. Sometimes Patrick has a habit of letting you in on a conversation half way through. I’ve had a lot of practice in the art of catching up, but this time he’s left me standing in his dust.
‘When you zone out like that. Pretty much a bazillion times a day, you just… leave. You’re certainly not here, so where do you go?’
For the second time in as many minutes, my experience of Patrick’s conversational skills warn me of how to proceed. When he asks you a serious question like this, it’s foolhardy to answer without actually thinking about it. He’ll call you on it. Maybe not right away - sometimes he’ll give you all the rope you need to tangle yourself up in - but if you’re not careful, that guy can be seriously tricksy. So I think.
‘Yah’, he laughs. ‘Just like that!’
‘Well what? You asked me something rather profound for this time in the morning; I have to actually figure out the answers to your deep philosophical riddles y’know.’
‘Well where is the answer? Is it in your head? Or is your head just a by-pass to your heart?’
‘How can I think anywhere other than my head? Sure, I go inside my own head, but I suppose that’s not the worst analogy in the world. It is sort of a bypass. I can go wherever I want to go, in a way. I can time travel, jump halfway across the world, even look into alternate universes if I want.’
‘And do you?’ Quizzical eyebrow. ‘Want to, I mean. Go all those places.’
Thinking about this one is all the answer I need, so I shut off the plunge into my psyche before it goes too far.
‘Maybe it’s a little futile to aim into the great unknown when I haven’t quite figured out what’s inside of here yet.’ I say slowly.
‘Maybe.’
‘But inside is all I know, it’s all that’s tangible to me, as stupid as that sounds. I mean, look at here.’ I gesture to the familiar interior of the bus. ‘Different city, same living space. It’s not really experiencing anything, is it? I’m ok with who I am inside my head, fucked up as that may be. But presenting that to the outside isn’t the same. It’s scary, there’s judgement. Things that I’ve worked out solidly in my head can fall apart in seconds after I let them out of my head.’
‘Is that so bad?’ Devil’s advocate becomes him.
‘Depends who’s doing the deconstruction’ I growl suggestively. I earn a throaty laugh in response.
‘Everything’s an innuendo to you… I mean maybe inside of your head is unnecessarily safe. Maybe you need to get knocked down so you can pick yourself up, be stronger.’
‘Yah yah,’ I wave him off. ‘”Self-improvement is masturbation” and all that jazz. Leave the Palahniuk references to Ryan for crying out loud’
‘I’m serious. Not everything has to be edgy and cleverly worded to make sense. So it’s a simple concept, it doesn’t make it any less valid. Challenge yourself a bit more. Shake it up.’
‘Shake what up?’ This comes out more pleading than I thought it could. Apparently some part of me truly needs a major transformation. ‘I already know everything in this little bubble. Nothing could possibly happen to mess with what I know.’
‘Oh?’ Suddenly he’s a lot closer. I can see every single one of his eyelashes, every capillary threading across the lids of his eyes - which are closed. He exhales deeply, and the breath flows across my top lip.
‘Work that into your self-perception, Mr Know-It-All.’
He withdraws from my immediate personal space, and then from the room altogether. Leaving me reeling from what I’m pretty sure was an intense kiss. Leaving me wondering where the hell I now stand.
*
Please, concrit me to hell.
This is a ficlet. It is under-developed to the max. Basically, it's my first attempt at writing using the
15_minute_fic method - take a word, sit down and just write for 15 minutes solid. So I took a word from my own prompt table, '78 -Where?' and I wrote. I'd been thinking a lot in my own psychosomatic way, and listening to a lot of Fall Out Boy, and this is what happened. It's literally the first thing that poured out of my head, I haven't even spell checked it. As a standalone it's cheesy as fuck and oh-so-unrealistic, but it could stand to be developed.
I just needed to write, and write something with dialogue.....
*
‘Where do you go?’ he asks.
I blink. His face is part amusement, part concern.
‘Where do I go when?’ I ask, genuinely bemused. Sometimes Patrick has a habit of letting you in on a conversation half way through. I’ve had a lot of practice in the art of catching up, but this time he’s left me standing in his dust.
‘When you zone out like that. Pretty much a bazillion times a day, you just… leave. You’re certainly not here, so where do you go?’
For the second time in as many minutes, my experience of Patrick’s conversational skills warn me of how to proceed. When he asks you a serious question like this, it’s foolhardy to answer without actually thinking about it. He’ll call you on it. Maybe not right away - sometimes he’ll give you all the rope you need to tangle yourself up in - but if you’re not careful, that guy can be seriously tricksy. So I think.
‘Yah’, he laughs. ‘Just like that!’
‘Well what? You asked me something rather profound for this time in the morning; I have to actually figure out the answers to your deep philosophical riddles y’know.’
‘Well where is the answer? Is it in your head? Or is your head just a by-pass to your heart?’
‘How can I think anywhere other than my head? Sure, I go inside my own head, but I suppose that’s not the worst analogy in the world. It is sort of a bypass. I can go wherever I want to go, in a way. I can time travel, jump halfway across the world, even look into alternate universes if I want.’
‘And do you?’ Quizzical eyebrow. ‘Want to, I mean. Go all those places.’
Thinking about this one is all the answer I need, so I shut off the plunge into my psyche before it goes too far.
‘Maybe it’s a little futile to aim into the great unknown when I haven’t quite figured out what’s inside of here yet.’ I say slowly.
‘Maybe.’
‘But inside is all I know, it’s all that’s tangible to me, as stupid as that sounds. I mean, look at here.’ I gesture to the familiar interior of the bus. ‘Different city, same living space. It’s not really experiencing anything, is it? I’m ok with who I am inside my head, fucked up as that may be. But presenting that to the outside isn’t the same. It’s scary, there’s judgement. Things that I’ve worked out solidly in my head can fall apart in seconds after I let them out of my head.’
‘Is that so bad?’ Devil’s advocate becomes him.
‘Depends who’s doing the deconstruction’ I growl suggestively. I earn a throaty laugh in response.
‘Everything’s an innuendo to you… I mean maybe inside of your head is unnecessarily safe. Maybe you need to get knocked down so you can pick yourself up, be stronger.’
‘Yah yah,’ I wave him off. ‘”Self-improvement is masturbation” and all that jazz. Leave the Palahniuk references to Ryan for crying out loud’
‘I’m serious. Not everything has to be edgy and cleverly worded to make sense. So it’s a simple concept, it doesn’t make it any less valid. Challenge yourself a bit more. Shake it up.’
‘Shake what up?’ This comes out more pleading than I thought it could. Apparently some part of me truly needs a major transformation. ‘I already know everything in this little bubble. Nothing could possibly happen to mess with what I know.’
‘Oh?’ Suddenly he’s a lot closer. I can see every single one of his eyelashes, every capillary threading across the lids of his eyes - which are closed. He exhales deeply, and the breath flows across my top lip.
‘Work that into your self-perception, Mr Know-It-All.’
He withdraws from my immediate personal space, and then from the room altogether. Leaving me reeling from what I’m pretty sure was an intense kiss. Leaving me wondering where the hell I now stand.
*
Please, concrit me to hell.