Lois and Clark drabbles
This post will be updated if I write additional Lois and Clark drabbles in the future.
I can't guarantee that all of these are exactly one hundred words!
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The following drabbles were written for a series of challenges that jojo_da_crow organized on the Lois and Clark Fanfic Message Boards in 2007. The prompt for each one is in bold.
Weapon
It was a bloodless battle. There were no swords or guns; it was a war of priorities.
I was certain my side would prevail. My weapons were strong and pointed - family, love, joy, home.
They had weapons, too - tradition, history, blood kinship, shared gifts. What were these against mine?
But when they brought forth their last arsenal, I was forced to concede defeat. I set aside my weapons; to continue to wield them would cause more harm to my love than to my enemy, for the invaders had one that I could not overcome.
A world of people in need.
Lightning
He accepted my outstretched hand and my first reaction was a wild desire to laugh. Shouldn’t a straight-from-the-movies moment like this have a fantasy setting? A tropical island, perhaps, surrounded by chorus girls wearing gold lame evening gowns and eating ambrosia with silver spoons. Not a police station at three o’clock on a dreary Tuesday.
Had this really been an ordinary day until now? Breakfast, court, laughing about last night’s Friends. Shouldn’t have fate warned me that this was coming?
Speak, my inner voice prompted. What should I say? Your name would be a good start.
“Mayson Drake, Deputy DA”
Smooth
The glass was smooth and cool between my fingers. I studied my reflection on the mirrored surface, having second thoughts. But I had to do it. How else would I know?
I pressed the sharp edge against the skin of the inside of my arm, just below my elbow, and hesitantly slid it across. There wasn’t even a faint mark or whisper of pain. I tried again with more force and watched in wonder as the glass shattered and rained fine pieces down onto the soft earth.
My mother’s voice floated over the field and I headed home for dinner.
Clear
The warm water cascaded down, turning his dark hair inky black and sticking it to his honey-colored skin. The drops continued falling, resting briefly on his shoulders before slipping off to travel down his broad back, following the path made by his strong muscles down to his trim waist and beyond.
She supposed that in a few weeks or years, the sight of something so basic as her husband in the shower would cease to affect her, but right now, just two days after their wedding, it was breath taking.
She slid the glass door open and stepped inside.
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This drabble was written for laramoon in 2007. She gave me the prompt of Cold.
The drop in temperature was sudden and total, encasing the ship in ice before the last rays of the giant red star faded. The child watched in wide-eyed wonder as chunks of fire shot past him into the dark depths of space. Grasping for the light, his pudgy hand hit the window of his small craft and he cried out at the painful cold against his small palm and fingers. He pulled his arm back into the depths of the blue blanket, tears bubbling down his cheeks. Warmth soon stole over him and he fell asleep, dreaming of the sun.
I can't guarantee that all of these are exactly one hundred words!
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
The following drabbles were written for a series of challenges that jojo_da_crow organized on the Lois and Clark Fanfic Message Boards in 2007. The prompt for each one is in bold.
Weapon
It was a bloodless battle. There were no swords or guns; it was a war of priorities.
I was certain my side would prevail. My weapons were strong and pointed - family, love, joy, home.
They had weapons, too - tradition, history, blood kinship, shared gifts. What were these against mine?
But when they brought forth their last arsenal, I was forced to concede defeat. I set aside my weapons; to continue to wield them would cause more harm to my love than to my enemy, for the invaders had one that I could not overcome.
A world of people in need.
Lightning
He accepted my outstretched hand and my first reaction was a wild desire to laugh. Shouldn’t a straight-from-the-movies moment like this have a fantasy setting? A tropical island, perhaps, surrounded by chorus girls wearing gold lame evening gowns and eating ambrosia with silver spoons. Not a police station at three o’clock on a dreary Tuesday.
Had this really been an ordinary day until now? Breakfast, court, laughing about last night’s Friends. Shouldn’t have fate warned me that this was coming?
Speak, my inner voice prompted. What should I say? Your name would be a good start.
“Mayson Drake, Deputy DA”
Smooth
The glass was smooth and cool between my fingers. I studied my reflection on the mirrored surface, having second thoughts. But I had to do it. How else would I know?
I pressed the sharp edge against the skin of the inside of my arm, just below my elbow, and hesitantly slid it across. There wasn’t even a faint mark or whisper of pain. I tried again with more force and watched in wonder as the glass shattered and rained fine pieces down onto the soft earth.
My mother’s voice floated over the field and I headed home for dinner.
Clear
The warm water cascaded down, turning his dark hair inky black and sticking it to his honey-colored skin. The drops continued falling, resting briefly on his shoulders before slipping off to travel down his broad back, following the path made by his strong muscles down to his trim waist and beyond.
She supposed that in a few weeks or years, the sight of something so basic as her husband in the shower would cease to affect her, but right now, just two days after their wedding, it was breath taking.
She slid the glass door open and stepped inside.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
This drabble was written for laramoon in 2007. She gave me the prompt of Cold.
The drop in temperature was sudden and total, encasing the ship in ice before the last rays of the giant red star faded. The child watched in wide-eyed wonder as chunks of fire shot past him into the dark depths of space. Grasping for the light, his pudgy hand hit the window of his small craft and he cried out at the painful cold against his small palm and fingers. He pulled his arm back into the depths of the blue blanket, tears bubbling down his cheeks. Warmth soon stole over him and he fell asleep, dreaming of the sun.