Vanilla #11, Strawberry Yoghurt #15, Pumpkin Pie #1
Author: laptopgirl
Story: Barely Alive, Barely Dead
Rating: All/General
Flavour:
Vanilla 11 - a walk in the woods
Strawberry Yoghurt 15 - up and running
Pumpkin Pie 1 - ghost
Wordcount: 489
Summary: Gilbert meets a ghost in the woods.
Warnings: None for this piece unless you don't like ghosts. It's not even scary. I promise.
Warm rays fell on his face in patches and birds chirped at each other, accompanied by the quiet gurgling of a nearby stream. He scrunched his face before opening his eyes to squint in the bright light. What greeted his sight was a childish face and wide blue eyes, an upturned nose and long blonde hair. A young girl who looked to be about fifteen years old, two years younger than him, in a white dress was looking down at him.
"Hi!" she chirped when she saw his open eyes.
He blinked. "Hi," he replied.
The girl stood back a little and he sat up with a groan, one hand rubbing a sore spot on his head tenderly while the other adjusted his glasses. "Where am I?"
"Westton Woods," came the prompt answer.
"Ah," he said, "I see." He remembered now. He was new to Westton -- a town so small and insignificant that it was just called the town in the west which somehow morphed into Westton -- and had started exploring until he reached a clearing in the woods and took a stumble. He must have hit his head and blacked out.
He frowned. Something seemed strange here but he couldn't put his finger on it.
The blonde girl seemed to have gotten tired of staring at him and waved a hand in front of his face.
"Hello? Are you still alive?"
He shook his head to clear himself of the reverie he fell into. "Yeah, sorry about that. What's your name? I'm Gilbert."
She cocked her head as she looked at the hand he offered before giving him an enigmatic smile. "I'm Rosie. You know, it's the first time anyone's ever talked to me since I died. I'm a ghost," she explained at his look of confusion.
He took a quick peek at her feet, small and white and hovering inches above the grass, and he remembered squinting in the sunlight despite the fact that there should have been a shadow cast by the girl on him. He could see a faint outline of a flower through her left ankle.
"Ah," he said, "I see."
Then he took off running, looking over his back for a brief moment only to see wet eyes and a hand stretched out to him.
"Where are you going?" she cried.
He didn't look back again.
But as he went to his new school and got used to his new house, he thought of her wheat-blonde hair. As he smiled at classmates he didn't know and lay on an unfamiliar bed, teary eyes gazed at him. And as he breathed and lived, cried echoed in his ears while his mind accused him, "She was only a lonely young girl."
After three days, he went back to the woods. He returned every day, spending more time there as days go by even as the weather got colder, going from summer to autumn.
Story: Barely Alive, Barely Dead
Rating: All/General
Flavour:
Vanilla 11 - a walk in the woods
Strawberry Yoghurt 15 - up and running
Pumpkin Pie 1 - ghost
Wordcount: 489
Summary: Gilbert meets a ghost in the woods.
Warnings: None for this piece unless you don't like ghosts. It's not even scary. I promise.
Warm rays fell on his face in patches and birds chirped at each other, accompanied by the quiet gurgling of a nearby stream. He scrunched his face before opening his eyes to squint in the bright light. What greeted his sight was a childish face and wide blue eyes, an upturned nose and long blonde hair. A young girl who looked to be about fifteen years old, two years younger than him, in a white dress was looking down at him.
"Hi!" she chirped when she saw his open eyes.
He blinked. "Hi," he replied.
The girl stood back a little and he sat up with a groan, one hand rubbing a sore spot on his head tenderly while the other adjusted his glasses. "Where am I?"
"Westton Woods," came the prompt answer.
"Ah," he said, "I see." He remembered now. He was new to Westton -- a town so small and insignificant that it was just called the town in the west which somehow morphed into Westton -- and had started exploring until he reached a clearing in the woods and took a stumble. He must have hit his head and blacked out.
He frowned. Something seemed strange here but he couldn't put his finger on it.
The blonde girl seemed to have gotten tired of staring at him and waved a hand in front of his face.
"Hello? Are you still alive?"
He shook his head to clear himself of the reverie he fell into. "Yeah, sorry about that. What's your name? I'm Gilbert."
She cocked her head as she looked at the hand he offered before giving him an enigmatic smile. "I'm Rosie. You know, it's the first time anyone's ever talked to me since I died. I'm a ghost," she explained at his look of confusion.
He took a quick peek at her feet, small and white and hovering inches above the grass, and he remembered squinting in the sunlight despite the fact that there should have been a shadow cast by the girl on him. He could see a faint outline of a flower through her left ankle.
"Ah," he said, "I see."
Then he took off running, looking over his back for a brief moment only to see wet eyes and a hand stretched out to him.
"Where are you going?" she cried.
He didn't look back again.
But as he went to his new school and got used to his new house, he thought of her wheat-blonde hair. As he smiled at classmates he didn't know and lay on an unfamiliar bed, teary eyes gazed at him. And as he breathed and lived, cried echoed in his ears while his mind accused him, "She was only a lonely young girl."
After three days, he went back to the woods. He returned every day, spending more time there as days go by even as the weather got colder, going from summer to autumn.