Kumquat #16
Rating: PG
Flavors: Kumquat #16 (leave only footprints)
Extras/Toppings: --
Word count: 542
Project: Tachycardia
Notes: University. We all have things we want to run from and to. Wow, it's been over a year since I started writing the whole Kumquat thing...Terrible me still hasn't finished, but I guess it's good enough for procrastinator-me to stick with it at least. I actually started this one over a month ago but could never think of a way to finish it. It's kind of a response/ at-the-same-time thing for Allie's in #15. References a bit of #14 as well.
Running-that was a word he was used to hearing, a dream he was used to experiencing, an action he was used to doing.
And, as with many things, Cody doesn’t remember when he first started.
According to his aunt and uncle, he used to run all the time when he was a little boy. It was all he did. It was the energy that accompanied youth, the energy that fades alongside everything else with years. He wasn’t known for being fast, but he could keep running for forever. Once he started, he didn’t stop until he reached his destination. And after every finish, there was always a new place to be off to.
Cody isn’t sure where he read that humans dream every night, but he’s pretty certain that means he’s probably dreamt of the same things for the majority of his life if the ones he remembers are anything to go off of.
On the days where coming home felt like he was walking into his executional pyre, Cody’s dreams are simultaneously the most comforting and the most painful. The setting of the dream varied: parks, school, places from movies, or even home. The only common things were the overarching theme and the conclusion, the same elements rehashed in different situations where running led to a happy end. In the morning, the reality of it all dropped onto his chest as he took his first waking breath, eyes languidly opening as that forbidden wish for the problem to go away no matter what it takes passed through his mind.
Nowadays, the fire isn’t quite so scorching as back then; flames don’t burn as brightly without the tinder around. The occasional trip home is filled with a feeling that can best be summarized as…unsatisfying. Cody never owned any pets, so his father is the only living thing he goes back to visit. And though a smile always graces both their faces, Cody still finds himself wanting more out of the visit.
For the most part, his problem has been solved-there’s still the matter of who exactly that other lady is, though he has an idea-but the resolution is bittersweet. Cody still isn’t sure if the ending is worth it. The countless fairy tales he read as a kid often ended with people figuring out that wishes are dangerous things. Sometimes, he wonders if his story reads like that too: the boy made a half-baked wish, got it granted, and didn’t regret it until the end when the realization hit.
Cody doesn’t remember when he first started running. He just knows that he’s been doing it for so long that it’s become an automatic function, a natural ability that’s so normal that it’s like breathing. He only notices he’s doing it when he actively thinks about it all and can never stop it on his own for more than a moment.
It’s her phone call-a mix of nervous, apologetic, and hopeful all rolled up-that gets him to stop. Everything halts as he comes back to reality from wherever he’s been for all this time. Then, he turns to run to where she tells him she’ll be; and, for once, he believes that he’s running to instead of from.
Flavors: Kumquat #16 (leave only footprints)
Extras/Toppings: --
Word count: 542
Project: Tachycardia
Notes: University. We all have things we want to run from and to. Wow, it's been over a year since I started writing the whole Kumquat thing...Terrible me still hasn't finished, but I guess it's good enough for procrastinator-me to stick with it at least. I actually started this one over a month ago but could never think of a way to finish it. It's kind of a response/ at-the-same-time thing for Allie's in #15. References a bit of #14 as well.
Running-that was a word he was used to hearing, a dream he was used to experiencing, an action he was used to doing.
And, as with many things, Cody doesn’t remember when he first started.
According to his aunt and uncle, he used to run all the time when he was a little boy. It was all he did. It was the energy that accompanied youth, the energy that fades alongside everything else with years. He wasn’t known for being fast, but he could keep running for forever. Once he started, he didn’t stop until he reached his destination. And after every finish, there was always a new place to be off to.
Cody isn’t sure where he read that humans dream every night, but he’s pretty certain that means he’s probably dreamt of the same things for the majority of his life if the ones he remembers are anything to go off of.
On the days where coming home felt like he was walking into his executional pyre, Cody’s dreams are simultaneously the most comforting and the most painful. The setting of the dream varied: parks, school, places from movies, or even home. The only common things were the overarching theme and the conclusion, the same elements rehashed in different situations where running led to a happy end. In the morning, the reality of it all dropped onto his chest as he took his first waking breath, eyes languidly opening as that forbidden wish for the problem to go away no matter what it takes passed through his mind.
Nowadays, the fire isn’t quite so scorching as back then; flames don’t burn as brightly without the tinder around. The occasional trip home is filled with a feeling that can best be summarized as…unsatisfying. Cody never owned any pets, so his father is the only living thing he goes back to visit. And though a smile always graces both their faces, Cody still finds himself wanting more out of the visit.
For the most part, his problem has been solved-there’s still the matter of who exactly that other lady is, though he has an idea-but the resolution is bittersweet. Cody still isn’t sure if the ending is worth it. The countless fairy tales he read as a kid often ended with people figuring out that wishes are dangerous things. Sometimes, he wonders if his story reads like that too: the boy made a half-baked wish, got it granted, and didn’t regret it until the end when the realization hit.
Cody doesn’t remember when he first started running. He just knows that he’s been doing it for so long that it’s become an automatic function, a natural ability that’s so normal that it’s like breathing. He only notices he’s doing it when he actively thinks about it all and can never stop it on his own for more than a moment.
It’s her phone call-a mix of nervous, apologetic, and hopeful all rolled up-that gets him to stop. Everything halts as he comes back to reality from wherever he’s been for all this time. Then, he turns to run to where she tells him she’ll be; and, for once, he believes that he’s running to instead of from.