Glacier: trail mix 9, white chocolate 11, pocky chain
Author: carnageincminor
Story Arc: The Art of Losing [pre arc]
Title: Glacier
Flavours / Other: Trail Mix 9 (waiting room), White Chocolate 11 (grief), Pocky Chain
Rating: G
Summary: Not knowing is the worst part.
Word Count: 300
A/N: Soooo... I haven't written in a while and can't quite get back on track, so this takes a break from the main story.
GLACIER
Crystal
I've never felt time drag like this. Hours merge into hours and stretch, bloat, crawl, until I can't tell how long we've been here. My hands are white and covered in nail marks. There's a dull burning behind my eyes. I'm tired but I can't sleep. If I let go... it'll be all over.
I can't lose focus.
Any minute now.
Please come out.
Please.
Every part of me aches, none more so than my chest, but I have to remind myself it's nothing compared to what she's going through. I have to be strong. She'd want me to be.
--o--
When I think of her, she's hosting my twelfth birthday party in our backyard. All my friends are there, the sun is bright, and the balloons and streamers paint a rainbow in the garden. Mum comes out holding a massive cake; her smile golden in the glow of a dozen candles.
She's not the woman I've seen this past year. She's not the pale, quiet shade who lies in bed, her silken hair lost to chemotherapy, face lined and tired and washed out, her smile grey in the curtained room.
All I can do is pray that she will return.
--o--
This limbo of not knowing is almost unbearable. And yet, I'm scared to find out. I'm not ready to never see her again, if it comes down to it.
Don't take my mother away. It's too soon.
I lift my head at the sound of footsteps squeaking on linoleum. White doors swing open and Dr Newman steps out. He approaches us. In the corner of my eye, Dad stands urgently, moving forward. My knees are too weak for me to move.
I've already seen the look on his face.
"I'm sorry..." he says.
And I don't remember anything after that.
Story Arc: The Art of Losing [pre arc]
Title: Glacier
Flavours / Other: Trail Mix 9 (waiting room), White Chocolate 11 (grief), Pocky Chain
Rating: G
Summary: Not knowing is the worst part.
Word Count: 300
A/N: Soooo... I haven't written in a while and can't quite get back on track, so this takes a break from the main story.
GLACIER
Crystal
I've never felt time drag like this. Hours merge into hours and stretch, bloat, crawl, until I can't tell how long we've been here. My hands are white and covered in nail marks. There's a dull burning behind my eyes. I'm tired but I can't sleep. If I let go... it'll be all over.
I can't lose focus.
Any minute now.
Please come out.
Please.
Every part of me aches, none more so than my chest, but I have to remind myself it's nothing compared to what she's going through. I have to be strong. She'd want me to be.
--o--
When I think of her, she's hosting my twelfth birthday party in our backyard. All my friends are there, the sun is bright, and the balloons and streamers paint a rainbow in the garden. Mum comes out holding a massive cake; her smile golden in the glow of a dozen candles.
She's not the woman I've seen this past year. She's not the pale, quiet shade who lies in bed, her silken hair lost to chemotherapy, face lined and tired and washed out, her smile grey in the curtained room.
All I can do is pray that she will return.
--o--
This limbo of not knowing is almost unbearable. And yet, I'm scared to find out. I'm not ready to never see her again, if it comes down to it.
Don't take my mother away. It's too soon.
I lift my head at the sound of footsteps squeaking on linoleum. White doors swing open and Dr Newman steps out. He approaches us. In the corner of my eye, Dad stands urgently, moving forward. My knees are too weak for me to move.
I've already seen the look on his face.
"I'm sorry..." he says.
And I don't remember anything after that.