concept/short story for 31 days
June 8th, "A wandering light"
Title: illuminate
Fandom: Original
Rating: K+
Warning: sleep deprevation and lack of a proper editing job = a very bad story. I like the concept thought, so I will edit tomorrow when I'm not so tired.
Though the windows of Pepper's little room were too high for her to see out of them, she had found that she could angle her mirror to reflect the tops of trees, and spent her days painting images of the sky and what she imagined the forest to look like.
Her room was filled with images of swirling grey skies threatening to spill their collections of water into harsh and violent winds. The reds and oranges met and faded, protraying the setting sun. There were canvases that were simply the stark blue of midday, when Pepper had had nothing else to do and the sky had remained dull and unenchanting. Still, she loved the limitless of it, the freedom promised.
And then there were the lights.
Once, every few days, a light would move, dancing around the tops of the trees. She could see it, the only light in the darkness besides the twinkling stars.
One night, she was roused from her sleep by the sound of knocking on her door. Shocked, she pulled the blankets up around her. The door had been closed for as long as she could remember. She had tried tugging it open, but the handle was rusty and it had been locked from the outside.
A smashing sound later and the door creaked open. Pepper squeaked and fell from her bed, hiding behind it.
The light shone, quietly, a small woman swinging it about. The woman sighed quietly. "I had thought for sure that someone was here," she said at last, before turning to go but stopping at the sight of the paintings.
Pepper made to follow her, shouting, "Please don't leave me here anymore! It is so dark and cold and no one comes for me!"
The woman ignored her, tracing her fingers over the wet paint on the canvas.
"They say that the woman who lived here liked to paint," she murmured, and Pepper froze. "To think that she died here," the light swung about, revealing a room filled with dust and cobwebs, dried paints and moth-eaten blankets. Pepper cried at the sight of her ruined home. In the darkness it had looked new, fresh.
This time, Pepper made no move to stop her as she headed towards the door. "Such a lonely place. I'm not sure what I hoped for, but this was not it."
"Me too," Pepper agreed, slumping back down onto her bed, trying to remember the room as beautiful as it had been when she first arrived thrity years ago. She imagined the light wandering away, and was both frightened and relieved. It had illuminated things she hoped to never see. With a shudder, she closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep, her prison having become her home.
Title: illuminate
Fandom: Original
Rating: K+
Warning: sleep deprevation and lack of a proper editing job = a very bad story. I like the concept thought, so I will edit tomorrow when I'm not so tired.
Though the windows of Pepper's little room were too high for her to see out of them, she had found that she could angle her mirror to reflect the tops of trees, and spent her days painting images of the sky and what she imagined the forest to look like.
Her room was filled with images of swirling grey skies threatening to spill their collections of water into harsh and violent winds. The reds and oranges met and faded, protraying the setting sun. There were canvases that were simply the stark blue of midday, when Pepper had had nothing else to do and the sky had remained dull and unenchanting. Still, she loved the limitless of it, the freedom promised.
And then there were the lights.
Once, every few days, a light would move, dancing around the tops of the trees. She could see it, the only light in the darkness besides the twinkling stars.
One night, she was roused from her sleep by the sound of knocking on her door. Shocked, she pulled the blankets up around her. The door had been closed for as long as she could remember. She had tried tugging it open, but the handle was rusty and it had been locked from the outside.
A smashing sound later and the door creaked open. Pepper squeaked and fell from her bed, hiding behind it.
The light shone, quietly, a small woman swinging it about. The woman sighed quietly. "I had thought for sure that someone was here," she said at last, before turning to go but stopping at the sight of the paintings.
Pepper made to follow her, shouting, "Please don't leave me here anymore! It is so dark and cold and no one comes for me!"
The woman ignored her, tracing her fingers over the wet paint on the canvas.
"They say that the woman who lived here liked to paint," she murmured, and Pepper froze. "To think that she died here," the light swung about, revealing a room filled with dust and cobwebs, dried paints and moth-eaten blankets. Pepper cried at the sight of her ruined home. In the darkness it had looked new, fresh.
This time, Pepper made no move to stop her as she headed towards the door. "Such a lonely place. I'm not sure what I hoped for, but this was not it."
"Me too," Pepper agreed, slumping back down onto her bed, trying to remember the room as beautiful as it had been when she first arrived thrity years ago. She imagined the light wandering away, and was both frightened and relieved. It had illuminated things she hoped to never see. With a shudder, she closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep, her prison having become her home.