(no subject)
Write a ficlet inspired by the following image: Forest and Creek
It seemed the line of trees would never end and where one failed to appear a lush shrubbery blocked ones path. Instead if seemed a more adventurous one was paved through the whispy stream. One by one moss-covered rocks could be scaled or hopped upon to the great unknown beyond the thin but abundant trees.
Connor, however, did not find the painting in the local thrift store to be so endearing. Rummaging through the framed photos he had found an old poster displaying various Irish booze and thought it would be a nice thing to look over and remember which had been in the house and what "cooking" they had been used for. As soon as he lifted up the frame the picture behind it caught his attention. Never-ending line of trees, bushes, and a stream. It was just the sort of tacky, cheap thing one would find easily at the thrift store. Even their standards didn't dip that low.
"The fuck is this?" Connor wrinkled his nose a little and turned towards Murph expecting a similar reply. He was surprised his twin hadn't been the first to criticize the picture first: Murph was good with the quick one-liners.
Instead he found he was talking to no one except an old woman shopping for a handbag six feet away. Rising to his tiptoes and lifting his head Connor searched for his brother over the racks of ancient and musky clothing for any sign of his brother. He muttered dismissively and set the booze poster back down before going to find Murph.
----
TIme passed and found the MacManus brothers and their usual company at Doc's bar. Through the smoky haze and the dim lights things weren't exactly clear but nobody seemed to mind; you were either focused on your beer, on Doc, or on the person sitting next to you. Breaking the usual trend, Connor's eyes wandered across the bar until he spied a familiar looking picture on the wall. It was the very same, in fact, right down to the chipped black corner of the frame.
"What's that new addition over there, then?" Connor gestured with his glass towards the poster.
"F-f-found it at the th-th-th-thrift store. Figured it added some c-cultutre to the place. FUCK. ASS."
Maybe the Tourettes made it funnier or just one beer too many. Connor laughed loudly before he had to set down his beer and rest his head close to the counter to muffle his laughter.
"Light weight," a tennant muttered.
"What's so funny?" Murphy craned his head and looked for an answer before prodding Connor. There was no response from him but laying still and chuckling.
"What was that? Four beers? Fuck, man, I'm not dragging his ass back to your place," Rocco shook his head and ground out his cigarette.
"Crazy sonnbitch," someone muttered from down the bar.
Doc muttered and went back to cleaning out a few glasses with his rag.
It seemed the line of trees would never end and where one failed to appear a lush shrubbery blocked ones path. Instead if seemed a more adventurous one was paved through the whispy stream. One by one moss-covered rocks could be scaled or hopped upon to the great unknown beyond the thin but abundant trees.
Connor, however, did not find the painting in the local thrift store to be so endearing. Rummaging through the framed photos he had found an old poster displaying various Irish booze and thought it would be a nice thing to look over and remember which had been in the house and what "cooking" they had been used for. As soon as he lifted up the frame the picture behind it caught his attention. Never-ending line of trees, bushes, and a stream. It was just the sort of tacky, cheap thing one would find easily at the thrift store. Even their standards didn't dip that low.
"The fuck is this?" Connor wrinkled his nose a little and turned towards Murph expecting a similar reply. He was surprised his twin hadn't been the first to criticize the picture first: Murph was good with the quick one-liners.
Instead he found he was talking to no one except an old woman shopping for a handbag six feet away. Rising to his tiptoes and lifting his head Connor searched for his brother over the racks of ancient and musky clothing for any sign of his brother. He muttered dismissively and set the booze poster back down before going to find Murph.
----
TIme passed and found the MacManus brothers and their usual company at Doc's bar. Through the smoky haze and the dim lights things weren't exactly clear but nobody seemed to mind; you were either focused on your beer, on Doc, or on the person sitting next to you. Breaking the usual trend, Connor's eyes wandered across the bar until he spied a familiar looking picture on the wall. It was the very same, in fact, right down to the chipped black corner of the frame.
"What's that new addition over there, then?" Connor gestured with his glass towards the poster.
"F-f-found it at the th-th-th-thrift store. Figured it added some c-cultutre to the place. FUCK. ASS."
Maybe the Tourettes made it funnier or just one beer too many. Connor laughed loudly before he had to set down his beer and rest his head close to the counter to muffle his laughter.
"Light weight," a tennant muttered.
"What's so funny?" Murphy craned his head and looked for an answer before prodding Connor. There was no response from him but laying still and chuckling.
"What was that? Four beers? Fuck, man, I'm not dragging his ass back to your place," Rocco shook his head and ground out his cigarette.
"Crazy sonnbitch," someone muttered from down the bar.
Doc muttered and went back to cleaning out a few glasses with his rag.