strawberry and rocky road with whipped cream
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: A Day Of Departures
Rating: G
Challenge: Strawberry #29: rope, Rocky Road #6: kitchen
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream
Wordcount: 467
Summary: The day that the Prowse family began falling apart.
Notes: Well, I don’t know where this came from, but… sad face. This isn't a "that's why Isaac's like that!" piece because I doubt he'd even remember, but it does kind of fit.
“Boys,” Tilly Prowse said-her voice was hopeless and weak, ringing of a battle already lost. She wasn’t arguing any more. She was pleading. “Don’t. Don’t go.”
Jude, her eldest son at twelve, shook hair from his face and scowled. Since her sons had been born and grown up, they had each fallen into place; Jude was the sweet one, the obedient one, the caring eldest brother. Micah was the argumentative scrapper. In this case, however, Jude was the one fighting hardest to go against her wishes.
“We’re going, Mam,” he said.
“Yeah,” Micah chipped in, because he always agreed with his brother when it was either that or his mother. He was ten.
Isaac also nodded: he was two years old and always agreed with both of his brothers even though he didn’t understand what was happening. Tilly sighed, leaned down and swept him up from the flagstones by her ankles, heaving him onto one scrawny hip.
“Don’t do this,” Tilly said, directing her attention solely on Jude. Her eyes were round and slightly fearful. “He wouldn’t want you to.”
“How do you know?” Micah exploded instantly. He had a firecracker temper-nobody knew where it had come from, because both parents were fairly mild-mannered and gentle people.
Well, apparently-though the fact that Jack Prowse was being hanged for murder that afternoon perhaps cast that opinion into some doubt.
“We’re not missing our dad’s hanging,” Jude said flatly, and Tilly pushed Isaac’s head into her shoulder.
“Shush!” she said desperately. Her eyes were panic-filled, her hair coming loose from under the starched muffin cap she bundled it into. “You don’t want to see it, boys. You don’t. I promise you, you don’t.”
“You should be there too,” Jude said, eyes narrowing. “It’s the last thing he’ll ever-…”
“Jude!” she cried. “Jude, please…”
His eyes swept over her and he apparently took some pity.
“We’ll be home before dark,” he said. The twelve-year-old was wiry and on the very cusp of his first growth spurt: it would propel him to the same immense stature as his father and-though unknown to him-all of his relatives on his father’s side. Then, turning away with another flick of his scruffy hair, he strolled away and out of the warped door, hanging off of its hinges. Micah bounded after him, sleeves so overlong that they flapped behind him, and neither of them looked back.
Tilly’s free hand opened and closed on thin air and Isaac squawked when her grip on him tightened.
“Be a good boy, Isaac,” she said, continuing to practically crush him in her arms. His eyes, wide and dark and curious, stared at the dingy interior of the cramped kitchen over her shoulder in confusion. Dry lips kissed at his crown. “Do what you’re told.”
Title: A Day Of Departures
Rating: G
Challenge: Strawberry #29: rope, Rocky Road #6: kitchen
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream
Wordcount: 467
Summary: The day that the Prowse family began falling apart.
Notes: Well, I don’t know where this came from, but… sad face. This isn't a "that's why Isaac's like that!" piece because I doubt he'd even remember, but it does kind of fit.
“Boys,” Tilly Prowse said-her voice was hopeless and weak, ringing of a battle already lost. She wasn’t arguing any more. She was pleading. “Don’t. Don’t go.”
Jude, her eldest son at twelve, shook hair from his face and scowled. Since her sons had been born and grown up, they had each fallen into place; Jude was the sweet one, the obedient one, the caring eldest brother. Micah was the argumentative scrapper. In this case, however, Jude was the one fighting hardest to go against her wishes.
“We’re going, Mam,” he said.
“Yeah,” Micah chipped in, because he always agreed with his brother when it was either that or his mother. He was ten.
Isaac also nodded: he was two years old and always agreed with both of his brothers even though he didn’t understand what was happening. Tilly sighed, leaned down and swept him up from the flagstones by her ankles, heaving him onto one scrawny hip.
“Don’t do this,” Tilly said, directing her attention solely on Jude. Her eyes were round and slightly fearful. “He wouldn’t want you to.”
“How do you know?” Micah exploded instantly. He had a firecracker temper-nobody knew where it had come from, because both parents were fairly mild-mannered and gentle people.
Well, apparently-though the fact that Jack Prowse was being hanged for murder that afternoon perhaps cast that opinion into some doubt.
“We’re not missing our dad’s hanging,” Jude said flatly, and Tilly pushed Isaac’s head into her shoulder.
“Shush!” she said desperately. Her eyes were panic-filled, her hair coming loose from under the starched muffin cap she bundled it into. “You don’t want to see it, boys. You don’t. I promise you, you don’t.”
“You should be there too,” Jude said, eyes narrowing. “It’s the last thing he’ll ever-…”
“Jude!” she cried. “Jude, please…”
His eyes swept over her and he apparently took some pity.
“We’ll be home before dark,” he said. The twelve-year-old was wiry and on the very cusp of his first growth spurt: it would propel him to the same immense stature as his father and-though unknown to him-all of his relatives on his father’s side. Then, turning away with another flick of his scruffy hair, he strolled away and out of the warped door, hanging off of its hinges. Micah bounded after him, sleeves so overlong that they flapped behind him, and neither of them looked back.
Tilly’s free hand opened and closed on thin air and Isaac squawked when her grip on him tightened.
“Be a good boy, Isaac,” she said, continuing to practically crush him in her arms. His eyes, wide and dark and curious, stared at the dingy interior of the cramped kitchen over her shoulder in confusion. Dry lips kissed at his crown. “Do what you’re told.”