(no subject)
Title: alliteration
’Verse/characters: technically n/a. >.>
Prompt: "unexpected floods" (probably the first of two, as this is cheating) - non list request
Word Count: 162
Rating: G
Notes: My downstairs flooded eight days ago.
She finds herself dreaming of it for a week afterward, waking up at night and listening for the sound of faint splashing as the water rolls in, imagines rolling out of bed and hitting sodden carpet. Which is impossible, because her bedroom's upstairs with the hardwood floors, and for that to flood the hill above them would have to be rushing with water, and she'd never sleep through that.
The dreams of rising water alternate with half-dreams of owning the house they rent, and what she'd do with downstairs then. Nefarious plots against the ugly credenza aside, she'd have no carpet where the water might touch. Tinted concrete with area rugs, ceiling to a handspan above the floor bookshelves, extra shelves to put the not yet returned to proper space books (someplace other than the floor--if the water had reached the library they'd have lost beautiful old leatherbounds and reference books simply by their location). Paranoia meets practicality meets pretty. Or something.
’Verse/characters: technically n/a. >.>
Prompt: "unexpected floods" (probably the first of two, as this is cheating) - non list request
Word Count: 162
Rating: G
Notes: My downstairs flooded eight days ago.
She finds herself dreaming of it for a week afterward, waking up at night and listening for the sound of faint splashing as the water rolls in, imagines rolling out of bed and hitting sodden carpet. Which is impossible, because her bedroom's upstairs with the hardwood floors, and for that to flood the hill above them would have to be rushing with water, and she'd never sleep through that.
The dreams of rising water alternate with half-dreams of owning the house they rent, and what she'd do with downstairs then. Nefarious plots against the ugly credenza aside, she'd have no carpet where the water might touch. Tinted concrete with area rugs, ceiling to a handspan above the floor bookshelves, extra shelves to put the not yet returned to proper space books (someplace other than the floor--if the water had reached the library they'd have lost beautiful old leatherbounds and reference books simply by their location). Paranoia meets practicality meets pretty. Or something.