Original Ficlet: Tomorrow // PG
Title: Tomorrow
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Him and Her, siblings, unnamed
Rating: PG
Word count: 211
Notes: Written for 15_minute_fic
Quiet little time of evening, cool and treacherous breeze washing over his eyes. Not much light out; wrong hour, wrong day, wrong road and wrong part of town. The neon backwash from the streetlights doesn’t reach here, which is just plain fine by him.
Resting, leaning against the wall, worn bricks rough at his back. Cigarette at his lips: a toxic sonnet carved in smoke tracing its way through his throat and into his lungs.
He tilts his head back, draws a breath in through his teeth, deep and deeper and holds it in, thinks of black clouds swirling through his lungs, inky and forever-black like the sky he’s pretending to watch.
Feels a breath on his neck, warm and heavy, lets the girl curl closer into him, watches the dull halo of her hair by the light of a dying cigarette.
‘Where do we go now, Slim?’, she’d asked before turning in for the night. ‘Tired of running, Slim. Tired and hungry.’
He squints and looks back up at the sky.
‘We keep running, sis,' he'd said. 'Far as we have to. Far as we need to.'
Looks at the sky now and wishes for all the stars to burn out, for perfect dark, for tomorrow to never ever come.
~fin~
Ficlet Word Prompt: Eldest, word #44
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Him and Her, siblings, unnamed
Rating: PG
Word count: 211
Notes: Written for 15_minute_fic
Quiet little time of evening, cool and treacherous breeze washing over his eyes. Not much light out; wrong hour, wrong day, wrong road and wrong part of town. The neon backwash from the streetlights doesn’t reach here, which is just plain fine by him.
Resting, leaning against the wall, worn bricks rough at his back. Cigarette at his lips: a toxic sonnet carved in smoke tracing its way through his throat and into his lungs.
He tilts his head back, draws a breath in through his teeth, deep and deeper and holds it in, thinks of black clouds swirling through his lungs, inky and forever-black like the sky he’s pretending to watch.
Feels a breath on his neck, warm and heavy, lets the girl curl closer into him, watches the dull halo of her hair by the light of a dying cigarette.
‘Where do we go now, Slim?’, she’d asked before turning in for the night. ‘Tired of running, Slim. Tired and hungry.’
He squints and looks back up at the sky.
‘We keep running, sis,' he'd said. 'Far as we have to. Far as we need to.'
Looks at the sky now and wishes for all the stars to burn out, for perfect dark, for tomorrow to never ever come.
~fin~
Ficlet Word Prompt: Eldest, word #44