Drabble: Is There a Moonlight Up AheadchamekkeApril 9 2010, 08:46:26 UTC
The man stood, his head bowed. He unwrapped the bouquet of flowers and spoke softly, affectionately.
"It's your favourite, Mum - carnations. 'Because they last.'"
Kneeling, he pushed the stems through the holes in the vase, then looked critically at the result and sighed.
"Sorry I'm a bit late this month, Mum... Dad. It's just - life's been busy. Complicated. I'm going undercover next week on a special operation. They've promised a promotion if it goes well." He smiled. "If I make no mistakes."
He touched the stone tenderly. "I'll be back next month, promise. I won't forget.
Re: Drabble: Is There a Moonlight Up AheadchamekkeApril 11 2010, 00:52:51 UTC
As I was transcribing 2x08 recently, I did a screenshot so that I could accurately record the wording on the Williams headstone. That's when I noticed that the vase actually held the pathetic remnants of a flower arrangement - probably no more than a few weeks old. So I had to write about how they got there.
At the risk of sounding unkind - I'm glad you found it sad too!
This was the worst possible place, in Manchester, in the world, in all of the bloody universe, to make that mistake.
In the pub, where masculinity was the order of the day. Where the smells of sweat and smoke and booze hung so fully in the air, Chris sometimes swore he could feel it the atmosphere suffusing into his skin, like a taint in the blood.
In the smallest of leather-backed corners, he'd turned the heads of everyone in the pub, turning hiw own world on its axis. A mistake, a decision made in a heartbeat, to slide a hand down to his Boss' knee.
Poor Chris! I can totally understand how he made that mistake, though :-)
Such an atmospheric story... you evoke the different senses very strongly. I feel as though I'm really there in the pub, hoping - and then cringing - right along with Chris.
Sam curled up into a ball on his bed and fought the sheet that was trying to engulf him. His head ached, his stomach ached, and his shoulders ached. He gave up thinking about how much of him ached and wiggled his toes in the hope that they didn’t ache. But they did. He peered cautiously at the television expecting to see the blurry face of a doctor saying that there was a problem with his medication. Nothing. He groaned pathetically. It had been a very bad mistake to bet Chris that he could beat him at Ray’s drinking game.
That certainly sounds like our Sam ... anxiously hoping that there's at least one tiny bit of him that's not shuddering with the world's worst hangover!
Drabble: Eternal ReturntempleremusApril 9 2010, 09:04:57 UTC
Coming here was a mistake.
With childlike naivety, she’d thought herself prepared- thought she’d seen every breed and shade of grief that there was to see.
They’d taught her the words to describe it all; ways to smile and ways to sit, and ways to hold a hand. Like any good student, she’d studied hard, and been rewarded for her efforts.
But standing in this place, face-to-face with her past, all the ways and words deserted her.
“Mrs Tyler? I’m- Annie Cartwright. I’m a police psychologist.”
Re: Drabble: Eternal ReturnchamekkeApril 11 2010, 01:39:12 UTC
I loved this bit: "With childlike naivety, she’d thought herself prepared- thought she’d seen every breed and shade of grief that there was to see. They’d taught her the words to describe it all; ways to smile and ways to sit, and ways to hold a hand." It totally captures the vast difference between helping someone else through their grief and struggling helplessly with one's own.
This is so heartwrenchingly sad (but in a good way, of course). Poor brave Annie!
Re: Drabble: BrokenchamekkeApril 11 2010, 01:41:16 UTC
Hee! I'm sure that all the ironmongers in the world couldn't fix that poor abused bed. How nice to think that Gene and Sam will soon be putting a new one to the test :-)
Comments 55
"It's your favourite, Mum - carnations. 'Because they last.'"
Kneeling, he pushed the stems through the holes in the vase, then looked critically at the result and sighed.
"Sorry I'm a bit late this month, Mum... Dad. It's just - life's been busy. Complicated. I'm going undercover next week on a special operation. They've promised a promotion if it goes well." He smiled. "If I make no mistakes."
He touched the stone tenderly. "I'll be back next month, promise. I won't forget.
"Love you forever."
( ... )
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At the risk of sounding unkind - I'm glad you found it sad too!
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In the pub, where masculinity was the order of the day. Where the smells of sweat and smoke and booze hung so fully in the air, Chris sometimes swore he could feel it the atmosphere suffusing into his skin, like a taint in the blood.
In the smallest of leather-backed corners, he'd turned the heads of everyone in the pub, turning hiw own world on its axis. A mistake, a decision made in a heartbeat, to slide a hand down to his Boss' knee.
"I-I'm sorry, Chris. I'm not...that way."
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Beautifully written though. I love the description of the smoke and booze tainting his blood, really poetic. ♥
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Such an atmospheric story... you evoke the different senses very strongly. I feel as though I'm really there in the pub, hoping - and then cringing - right along with Chris.
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Totally adorable drabble :-)
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With childlike naivety, she’d thought herself prepared- thought she’d seen every breed and shade of grief that there was to see.
They’d taught her the words to describe it all; ways to smile and ways to sit, and ways to hold a hand. Like any good student, she’d studied hard, and been rewarded for her efforts.
But standing in this place, face-to-face with her past, all the ways and words deserted her.
“Mrs Tyler? I’m- Annie Cartwright. I’m a police psychologist.”
Coming here was a mistake.
But she couldn’t stop now.
“Can I come in?”
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This is so heartwrenchingly sad (but in a good way, of course). Poor brave Annie!
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"Sorry, Gene. Didn't know this'd happen."
"No? Blind Freddie could've predicted it. So what're we gonna do about it?"
"I'll fix it in the morning."
"You? Don't make me laugh."
"Worked in an hardware store."
"Like I said, don't make me laugh. We did give it a workout though, didn't we."
"You know, now that I look at it I think it's broken for good."
"Right. In the morning I'll get you a new bed, Dorothy."
"Two conditions: I buy you dinner, and after that we do our best to break it too."
"You're on!"
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