Tiny ficlets
Here are a bunch of little bite-sized stories, all PG-rated:
A Short, Sad Story
"Where's your totem?" Cobb asked.
Ariadne shook her head. "I don't need it," she told him. "I know this is real."
"No, Ariadne," he said, and his eyes were shuttered, "that's when you need it the most."
Home
He doesn't miss Prague.
He dreams about it, all the time, the streets sprawling in front of him. He wakes up with tears in his eyes, his heart aching.
But that doesn't mean he misses it.
Night
The dogs aren't howling. The night is completely still. There are no clouds, no wind, no stars. It's cold, and the mouths of the caves are smoking gently, breathing in the night. Everything looks perfectly calm.
But the dogs aren't howling.
You should be afraid.
Time Is an Ocean
She thinks of her life in light-years, to and from, back and forth; it's nothing but travel, in the end. She runs the galaxy's oldest bus station- ten-fifteen to Athos, departing now.
But the light-years that matter, the ones she marks, are the ones between him and her.
She stands on her widow's walk and waits for the light-years to pass.
the one-eyed man is king
"One simple idea," Arthur says, and the gun is starting to waver in his hand. "One simple idea like 'I'm in love with Eames'?"
Eames says nothing.
His experiment with Arthur has, on the whole, been a failure.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/270072.html.
comments over there.
A Short, Sad Story
"Where's your totem?" Cobb asked.
Ariadne shook her head. "I don't need it," she told him. "I know this is real."
"No, Ariadne," he said, and his eyes were shuttered, "that's when you need it the most."
Home
He doesn't miss Prague.
He dreams about it, all the time, the streets sprawling in front of him. He wakes up with tears in his eyes, his heart aching.
But that doesn't mean he misses it.
Night
The dogs aren't howling. The night is completely still. There are no clouds, no wind, no stars. It's cold, and the mouths of the caves are smoking gently, breathing in the night. Everything looks perfectly calm.
But the dogs aren't howling.
You should be afraid.
Time Is an Ocean
She thinks of her life in light-years, to and from, back and forth; it's nothing but travel, in the end. She runs the galaxy's oldest bus station- ten-fifteen to Athos, departing now.
But the light-years that matter, the ones she marks, are the ones between him and her.
She stands on her widow's walk and waits for the light-years to pass.
the one-eyed man is king
"One simple idea," Arthur says, and the gun is starting to waver in his hand. "One simple idea like 'I'm in love with Eames'?"
Eames says nothing.
His experiment with Arthur has, on the whole, been a failure.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/270072.html.
comments over there.