grapefruit #26 (ice cream truck!)
grapefruit 26. in the wind
+ malt: "Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy." - Freud (SC #150)
story: ??? ( ice cream truck seed). wordcount: 677. rating: pg.
I wrote this strange beginning as a sample seed for the Ice Cream Truck. Totally new, mysterious canon...
I woke up feeling stiff and shivery, tangled up in one of Drake's wool blankets. I needed something to blow my nose on, but I settled for wiping it on my sleeve. My throat was sore from breathing through my mouth all night. The fire in the stove had long since gone out and I watched my breath cloud up under my nose as I tried to talk myself into getting up: Come on, just do it. It's only going to get colder.
The house was silent aside from the clock in the kitchen and when I sat up I could see that Drake's coat was missing from the hook by the door. It had been there last night.
Still half-wrapped in the blanket, I searched out my boots with my feet. Maybe Drake was out back getting more fire wood. But it was early, and something about his absence made me a little uneasy. By the time I made it to my feet, I'd convinced myself to go look for him.
I retrieved my parka from the back of a kitchen chair and threw it on over the clothes I'd slept in. My shirt was starting to feel like a grimy second skin, but it was too cold to change, let alone think about bathing. I pulled my trapper hat over my greasy hair and stumbled out the front door.
A gust of wind hit me in the face when I stepped onto the porch and I zipped my parka up as far as it would go. Squinting, I couldn't see Drake. The sun was just creeping up towards the tops of the trees and the morning light cast long, purple shadows off the junk scattered around Drake's yard. But his truck was still parked by the wood pile, so I hitched up my shoulder to bury my nose in my collar and trudged around to the other side of the house.
Even with the wind in my eyes, I spotted him almost immediately-out by the tree line with a shovel in his hands. He'd abandoned his coat in a heap by his feet and was out there in his sweater, pink-faced and breathing heavily as he chipped away at the ground.
"Drake," I said hoarsely, then cleared my throat. "Drake, what are you doing?"
He barely looked up as he drove the shovel into the earth again and planted his foot on the blade. "Digging," he said. His hole was maybe a foot deep and the dirt came out in hard little chunks, almost holding the shape of the shovel.
"The ground's still frozen," I said.
"I think it's starting to thaw."
Watching Drake puff and sweat somehow made me feel even colder. He stopped to wipe his brow and I curled my hands in my pockets to see if I could still feel my fingers.
I waited as long as I could before asking, "Are you going to tell me what you're digging for?"
Drake leaned into the shovel and paused. He looked at me over his shoulder. "I had a dream about her."
"Who?"
"You know, her." Drake scrubbed a hand over his stubble. "Patricia."
"Oh," I said.
"It was a significant dream," he said. "I knew it as soon as I woke up. Just listen to the wind. We never get wind like that-it's like an omen. Something's about to change."
"You believe in omens?"
He wrapped his hands around the shovel again. "Anything's possible with her."
"So you had a dream and that made you think…what? That she's back?" Drake had gone back to digging and didn't answered me, so I figured that must have been it. I scraped my heel against the earth to see if I could make a dent in it. I couldn't. "If you think she's back, why are you out here digging? I'd have thought you'd be doing something more like…drinking."
He laughed, but it was a short laugh. "If Patricia's back," he said, "there are some things I need to unearth."
I didn't have much of an idea who these people are or what's going to happen, so please if you feel inspired, go ahead and add to it however you see fit!
+ malt: "Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy." - Freud (SC #150)
story: ??? ( ice cream truck seed). wordcount: 677. rating: pg.
I wrote this strange beginning as a sample seed for the Ice Cream Truck. Totally new, mysterious canon...
I woke up feeling stiff and shivery, tangled up in one of Drake's wool blankets. I needed something to blow my nose on, but I settled for wiping it on my sleeve. My throat was sore from breathing through my mouth all night. The fire in the stove had long since gone out and I watched my breath cloud up under my nose as I tried to talk myself into getting up: Come on, just do it. It's only going to get colder.
The house was silent aside from the clock in the kitchen and when I sat up I could see that Drake's coat was missing from the hook by the door. It had been there last night.
Still half-wrapped in the blanket, I searched out my boots with my feet. Maybe Drake was out back getting more fire wood. But it was early, and something about his absence made me a little uneasy. By the time I made it to my feet, I'd convinced myself to go look for him.
I retrieved my parka from the back of a kitchen chair and threw it on over the clothes I'd slept in. My shirt was starting to feel like a grimy second skin, but it was too cold to change, let alone think about bathing. I pulled my trapper hat over my greasy hair and stumbled out the front door.
A gust of wind hit me in the face when I stepped onto the porch and I zipped my parka up as far as it would go. Squinting, I couldn't see Drake. The sun was just creeping up towards the tops of the trees and the morning light cast long, purple shadows off the junk scattered around Drake's yard. But his truck was still parked by the wood pile, so I hitched up my shoulder to bury my nose in my collar and trudged around to the other side of the house.
Even with the wind in my eyes, I spotted him almost immediately-out by the tree line with a shovel in his hands. He'd abandoned his coat in a heap by his feet and was out there in his sweater, pink-faced and breathing heavily as he chipped away at the ground.
"Drake," I said hoarsely, then cleared my throat. "Drake, what are you doing?"
He barely looked up as he drove the shovel into the earth again and planted his foot on the blade. "Digging," he said. His hole was maybe a foot deep and the dirt came out in hard little chunks, almost holding the shape of the shovel.
"The ground's still frozen," I said.
"I think it's starting to thaw."
Watching Drake puff and sweat somehow made me feel even colder. He stopped to wipe his brow and I curled my hands in my pockets to see if I could still feel my fingers.
I waited as long as I could before asking, "Are you going to tell me what you're digging for?"
Drake leaned into the shovel and paused. He looked at me over his shoulder. "I had a dream about her."
"Who?"
"You know, her." Drake scrubbed a hand over his stubble. "Patricia."
"Oh," I said.
"It was a significant dream," he said. "I knew it as soon as I woke up. Just listen to the wind. We never get wind like that-it's like an omen. Something's about to change."
"You believe in omens?"
He wrapped his hands around the shovel again. "Anything's possible with her."
"So you had a dream and that made you think…what? That she's back?" Drake had gone back to digging and didn't answered me, so I figured that must have been it. I scraped my heel against the earth to see if I could make a dent in it. I couldn't. "If you think she's back, why are you out here digging? I'd have thought you'd be doing something more like…drinking."
He laughed, but it was a short laugh. "If Patricia's back," he said, "there are some things I need to unearth."
I didn't have much of an idea who these people are or what's going to happen, so please if you feel inspired, go ahead and add to it however you see fit!