Applie Pie, Hazelnut, and Bunny Tracks. FRIGGEN LOT OF TOPPINGS.
Author: indie
Challenge: applie pie #12 (ancestors) and hazelnut #13 (backseat driver) bunny tracks #6 (motorcycle) -- Cherry, Butterscotch, Carmel, Cookie Crumbs.
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG.
Story: Hel & Rory; family saga :). Index.
Notes: Gold Medal for Team Not Weens. Cherry for the pocky chain and cookie crumbs for revisiting Hel's wedding. (PS. Yes, Hel's daughter is named after that Scout. ;)) PPS LAST APPLIE PIE I AM SO ON A ROLL.
Once upon a time, John Phelan was just a Peter Pan on a motercyycle; James Dean hair and the kind of sex-appeal that made people give him what he wanted. He had an earring in one ear and wore a bandana around his neck to keep the dust out of his mouth on the road.
He loved old westerns and fancied himself a tumbleweed, going in the direction the wind took him.
He planned on never growing up, never tying down a fort. He certainly never planned on becoming part of a history; being an ancestor, or ever getting old.
--
Once upon a time, Charolette Love knew she’d never get married because who what kind of idiot would get rid of a name so perfect?
She’d spent time as a child in a mental hospital, and so she learned to not talk about the world she saw, just in case.
She had long swinging hair and bell-bottomed jeans and as long as she was out in the sun, parked on a blanket while the band played on, she’d never grow up.
Except, Peter Pan came into her hometown like a tumbleweed, sat next to her and offered her some weed.
--
Charolette, apperently, was that kind of idiot.
Soon, she took to being pregnant like a bird to the sky, swelling like a baloon, and feeling twice as light.
She gave birth to little Laura at eighteen, and Helen at twenty.
But Hel was a crier, and Laura took a tumble from her bed as a baby, and all the kings horses and all the king’s men...
John left a swinging door behind him when she told him she was pregnant with Rory.
Little Rory had his father’s hair and eyes and was undeniably charming. He set her teeth on edge.
--
“Hel, it’s almost time.”
Hel couldn’t breathe.
“You’re beautiful,” he offered.
Hel’s heart almost exploded. Rory, little Rory, taller than her and twice as articulate, looked so grown up in his suit.
“Th-thanks.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure that this is what you want to do?”
“No, but I’ve decided to do it. That’s what life’s about, right?”
Rory looked doubtful.
“I’m going to do this for real; play this string out ‘til the end.”
Rory adjusted the flower in her hair. “Let’s do this for real, then,” and offered her his elbow. She took it, smiling.
--
Uncle Rory taught Scout to drive.
Hel made her nervous because she was so nervous, and Romulus was always working long hours these days - this close to being chief of surgery. Besides, Rom couldn’t drive a stick, and Uncle Chris had promised her this truck she’d had her heart set on in his lot if she graduated with a 3.9.
“No worries,” Rory said, gesturing expansively. “I do this all the time.”
“Really?”
“Taught your ma, didn’t I?”
“She’s three years older.”
“That’s … probably true.”
Scout raised an eyebrow that made her look like her Hel.
Nothing ever changed.
Challenge: applie pie #12 (ancestors) and hazelnut #13 (backseat driver) bunny tracks #6 (motorcycle) -- Cherry, Butterscotch, Carmel, Cookie Crumbs.
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG.
Story: Hel & Rory; family saga :). Index.
Notes: Gold Medal for Team Not Weens. Cherry for the pocky chain and cookie crumbs for revisiting Hel's wedding. (PS. Yes, Hel's daughter is named after that Scout. ;)) PPS LAST APPLIE PIE I AM SO ON A ROLL.
Once upon a time, John Phelan was just a Peter Pan on a motercyycle; James Dean hair and the kind of sex-appeal that made people give him what he wanted. He had an earring in one ear and wore a bandana around his neck to keep the dust out of his mouth on the road.
He loved old westerns and fancied himself a tumbleweed, going in the direction the wind took him.
He planned on never growing up, never tying down a fort. He certainly never planned on becoming part of a history; being an ancestor, or ever getting old.
--
Once upon a time, Charolette Love knew she’d never get married because who what kind of idiot would get rid of a name so perfect?
She’d spent time as a child in a mental hospital, and so she learned to not talk about the world she saw, just in case.
She had long swinging hair and bell-bottomed jeans and as long as she was out in the sun, parked on a blanket while the band played on, she’d never grow up.
Except, Peter Pan came into her hometown like a tumbleweed, sat next to her and offered her some weed.
--
Charolette, apperently, was that kind of idiot.
Soon, she took to being pregnant like a bird to the sky, swelling like a baloon, and feeling twice as light.
She gave birth to little Laura at eighteen, and Helen at twenty.
But Hel was a crier, and Laura took a tumble from her bed as a baby, and all the kings horses and all the king’s men...
John left a swinging door behind him when she told him she was pregnant with Rory.
Little Rory had his father’s hair and eyes and was undeniably charming. He set her teeth on edge.
--
“Hel, it’s almost time.”
Hel couldn’t breathe.
“You’re beautiful,” he offered.
Hel’s heart almost exploded. Rory, little Rory, taller than her and twice as articulate, looked so grown up in his suit.
“Th-thanks.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure that this is what you want to do?”
“No, but I’ve decided to do it. That’s what life’s about, right?”
Rory looked doubtful.
“I’m going to do this for real; play this string out ‘til the end.”
Rory adjusted the flower in her hair. “Let’s do this for real, then,” and offered her his elbow. She took it, smiling.
--
Uncle Rory taught Scout to drive.
Hel made her nervous because she was so nervous, and Romulus was always working long hours these days - this close to being chief of surgery. Besides, Rom couldn’t drive a stick, and Uncle Chris had promised her this truck she’d had her heart set on in his lot if she graduated with a 3.9.
“No worries,” Rory said, gesturing expansively. “I do this all the time.”
“Really?”
“Taught your ma, didn’t I?”
“She’s three years older.”
“That’s … probably true.”
Scout raised an eyebrow that made her look like her Hel.
Nothing ever changed.