Colors and Rain
The first draft of HL100 Challenge #4 (colors) was 150 words...I shortened it for the official version, but here's the original longer one:
#4 Colors: Beginning and Ending
It all came back to black and white, in the end. Much as he liked to make noise about gray, that was only for moral dilemmas, for codes of conduct, for the truths of men and the world, for Highlander-baiting (and good sport, that).
But death was black, always. Sometimes stained with red, but then...fade to black.
Life, if you were lucky, was white. It didn’t matter what the real colors were, the brightness was always white at first - only after the momentary blindness did you realize that you saw blue sky, or a ceiling, or a face of concern. If you weren’t lucky, though, you went from black to black...which usually meant clawing your way out of the earth (coffin optional). Not pleasant.
The other colors were more vibrant, but you never forgot the two that mattered most. Non-colors to some. To you, the stuff of forever.
*****
Challenge #15 (Rain) was also too long as I first wrote it (aren't most drabbles?) and while I pared it down for submission, I like this version more:
#15 Rain: Swimming in the Rain
It was raining that perfect summer rain. Warm and fresh and sweet, lit by the sun that shines there despite the fact it’s raining, despite the certain logic of clouds in the sky.
Methos stood there, letting the rain soak him, welcoming it, wanting it to last beyond that barest stretch of moments which was all it was ever allowed.
Perfection, pure perfection.
And then Duncan was there, tugging his arm, pulling him down the gentle slope towards the pond. When Methos realized his friend’s intent, he let out a whoop of childish joy and they were suddenly racing down the hill, stripping as they went, to splash about in the normally still pond, now alive with raindrops.
#4 Colors: Beginning and Ending
It all came back to black and white, in the end. Much as he liked to make noise about gray, that was only for moral dilemmas, for codes of conduct, for the truths of men and the world, for Highlander-baiting (and good sport, that).
But death was black, always. Sometimes stained with red, but then...fade to black.
Life, if you were lucky, was white. It didn’t matter what the real colors were, the brightness was always white at first - only after the momentary blindness did you realize that you saw blue sky, or a ceiling, or a face of concern. If you weren’t lucky, though, you went from black to black...which usually meant clawing your way out of the earth (coffin optional). Not pleasant.
The other colors were more vibrant, but you never forgot the two that mattered most. Non-colors to some. To you, the stuff of forever.
*****
Challenge #15 (Rain) was also too long as I first wrote it (aren't most drabbles?) and while I pared it down for submission, I like this version more:
#15 Rain: Swimming in the Rain
It was raining that perfect summer rain. Warm and fresh and sweet, lit by the sun that shines there despite the fact it’s raining, despite the certain logic of clouds in the sky.
Methos stood there, letting the rain soak him, welcoming it, wanting it to last beyond that barest stretch of moments which was all it was ever allowed.
Perfection, pure perfection.
And then Duncan was there, tugging his arm, pulling him down the gentle slope towards the pond. When Methos realized his friend’s intent, he let out a whoop of childish joy and they were suddenly racing down the hill, stripping as they went, to splash about in the normally still pond, now alive with raindrops.