so I drabbled last night...
At first I wasn't going to play drabble tag at eklipsed and then I was just going to write one drabble (because no one had posted in like thirty minutes) and somehow by the end of the night I had written six drabbles.
warning: This first drabble, I admit, is on the sucky side and lack sense. I didn't really understand what a lifeboat was until I mentioned it in a chat. So the reason why Chloe has a lifeboat is that she couldn't find anything else. Okay? Okay.
on the good ship [prompt: lifeboat]
“Clark, where are you?” Chloe said out loud.
She was in a lifeboat in the middle of the lake near Smallville. It was a pretty scene, she could admit, the water blue-green and the sun setting, painting the sky in brilliant pinks and purples.
Still she was bored. Clark had asked her to come out here and wait for him in the boat and she had been waiting for an hour. She sighed and looked at the water, a gentle wind making waves that lapped the lifeboat.
“Up here, Ms. Impatient.”
Chloe glanced up quickly, and the boat rocked. Above the water Clark hovered, clad in a tight suit that was bright blue. A red cape flowed behind him.
“Oh my god.”
“I can fly.” He smiled proudly.
“I see that,” she said. “But the clothing is distracting me.”
“Hey!”
here at the bottom [prompt: alcohol]
She isn’t sure why she buys it at first. Why she continues to buy it is obvious, or it becomes obvious. She likes the way she’s numbed as the drinks pile up, one after another. A nightly ritual, at first, only it begins to start earlier and earlier as the days pass and summer marches onward.
On one level she knows she shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be essentially drowning her sorrows in alcohol. But she can’t sleep without drinking, can’t escape the guilt and the remorse and the tears. The tears are the worse and with the alcohol she doesn’t cry. She’s numbed, her senses dulled, and nothing hurts. Everything is mellow and she likes this feeling too much to stop drinking.
And with no one to help her, there’s no reason to stop. No reason to try to extract herself from the cycle she has gotten herself into. So she drinks and doesn’t feel the pain, exactly what she wants.
all that he can do is this [prompt: Dean]
Sometimes, not often but still sometimes, Dean gets tired of having to watch Sam. Everyday it’s the same: must watch Sam, keep Sam safe, protect Sam.
“Watch your little brother,” Dad said. Dad always said this, and Dean has listened. He knows what his Dad expects of him.
But there are days when he’s tired of this responsibility, of being the older brother. When he doesn’t want to play with his little brother, when he wants to run and play by himself, without worrying about Sammy.
Then he remembers the night of the fire. Remembers Sammy in his arms and the flames and Dad screaming. Remembers Mom being gone after that night. Once he remembers the tiredness is pushed aside because he doesn’t want to lose his little brother. So Dean watches Sammy, doing exactly what Dad has told him to do.
It’s all he can do.
seasonal change [prompt: autumn]
Nothing is ever constant; life is forward changing, altering, evolving. The seasons come and go, Mother Nature forever in motion. Summer recedes and autumn takes hold. Autumn: the season of death, of preparation for winter.
Outside the leaves are turning from greens to oranges and reds, browns and yellows when the leaves tumble from branches to the ground. Crops are harvested. The sun fades, growing weaker, and the air is colder with a breeze that lingers cool, not the hot wind of summer.
Inside Clark is standing in her studio apartment for the first time since summer began. His shoulders are slumped and his arms hang at his sides. Words fall from his mouth, words of apology, of being wrong. Words escape her mouth, words of anger and words of sorrow. It all culminates in her opening her arms and saying she thinks she can forgive. He murmurs Thank yous and I missed yous into her hair as he wraps his arms around her body, pulling her close. She closes her eyes and breathes in his scent and feels relief that she’s back in his arms.
Autumn isn’t usually the season of coming together in the storybooks. Spring is the season of renewal, not autumn, the season of dying. Yet real life never follows the storybooks and change occurs whenever, wherever, and sometimes it occurs in autumn, in October.
knowledge [prompt: Sam]
He staggers under the weight of the knowledge that he had been fooled. That Dean was right, that Ruby couldn’t be trusted. He trusted a demon and now Lucifer is coming. Lucifer is about to rise because he, Sam Winchester, demon hunter since childhood, trusted a demon. He was conned and now the end of the world is approaching.
He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to vomit, wants to bleed out his demon-laced blood. He wants to curl up into a little ball and sleep for a few dozen years.
But Lucifer is coming and Dean is rushing into the room, having broken the door, and Ruby needs to be dealt with. He can’t just stop because of the knowledge that weighs heavily on him, the truth that he was led astray by a demon. He can’t stop fighting because of that and so he must soldier on, even if it hurts, even if he feels sick to his stomach.
Maybe later there will be time to vomit, to sleep. Maybe later, after he has saved the world he put in jeopardy.
feathers and New England towns [prompt: ye olde soda shoppe]
It’s a small town, one of many. Its named made her smile as she spun her finger around the large map of New England, trying to decide what city or town they should fly to today for Clark’s practice.
He was getting good at the flying. Soon he wouldn’t need the feather she attached to his jacket everyday, more as a joke than anything, but it seemed to reassure him. Or at least it made him smile.
The town today is Star’s Hollow. He flies them there and afterwards they wander around town, hand in hand. His fingers are warm wrapped around hers. It’s a cool autumn day, and the town is awash in autumn colors. The trees are filled with orange and red leaves, and pumpkins dot the town square.
“Ice cream?” Clark says.
“What?”
He stops and so does she. He points across the town square to a store, whose signs advertises it as Ye Olde Sode Shoppe. It’s a bit late in the season for ice cream, but she nods her head anyways. They have no one to be and time to waste.
warning: This first drabble, I admit, is on the sucky side and lack sense. I didn't really understand what a lifeboat was until I mentioned it in a chat. So the reason why Chloe has a lifeboat is that she couldn't find anything else. Okay? Okay.
on the good ship [prompt: lifeboat]
“Clark, where are you?” Chloe said out loud.
She was in a lifeboat in the middle of the lake near Smallville. It was a pretty scene, she could admit, the water blue-green and the sun setting, painting the sky in brilliant pinks and purples.
Still she was bored. Clark had asked her to come out here and wait for him in the boat and she had been waiting for an hour. She sighed and looked at the water, a gentle wind making waves that lapped the lifeboat.
“Up here, Ms. Impatient.”
Chloe glanced up quickly, and the boat rocked. Above the water Clark hovered, clad in a tight suit that was bright blue. A red cape flowed behind him.
“Oh my god.”
“I can fly.” He smiled proudly.
“I see that,” she said. “But the clothing is distracting me.”
“Hey!”
here at the bottom [prompt: alcohol]
She isn’t sure why she buys it at first. Why she continues to buy it is obvious, or it becomes obvious. She likes the way she’s numbed as the drinks pile up, one after another. A nightly ritual, at first, only it begins to start earlier and earlier as the days pass and summer marches onward.
On one level she knows she shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be essentially drowning her sorrows in alcohol. But she can’t sleep without drinking, can’t escape the guilt and the remorse and the tears. The tears are the worse and with the alcohol she doesn’t cry. She’s numbed, her senses dulled, and nothing hurts. Everything is mellow and she likes this feeling too much to stop drinking.
And with no one to help her, there’s no reason to stop. No reason to try to extract herself from the cycle she has gotten herself into. So she drinks and doesn’t feel the pain, exactly what she wants.
all that he can do is this [prompt: Dean]
Sometimes, not often but still sometimes, Dean gets tired of having to watch Sam. Everyday it’s the same: must watch Sam, keep Sam safe, protect Sam.
“Watch your little brother,” Dad said. Dad always said this, and Dean has listened. He knows what his Dad expects of him.
But there are days when he’s tired of this responsibility, of being the older brother. When he doesn’t want to play with his little brother, when he wants to run and play by himself, without worrying about Sammy.
Then he remembers the night of the fire. Remembers Sammy in his arms and the flames and Dad screaming. Remembers Mom being gone after that night. Once he remembers the tiredness is pushed aside because he doesn’t want to lose his little brother. So Dean watches Sammy, doing exactly what Dad has told him to do.
It’s all he can do.
seasonal change [prompt: autumn]
Nothing is ever constant; life is forward changing, altering, evolving. The seasons come and go, Mother Nature forever in motion. Summer recedes and autumn takes hold. Autumn: the season of death, of preparation for winter.
Outside the leaves are turning from greens to oranges and reds, browns and yellows when the leaves tumble from branches to the ground. Crops are harvested. The sun fades, growing weaker, and the air is colder with a breeze that lingers cool, not the hot wind of summer.
Inside Clark is standing in her studio apartment for the first time since summer began. His shoulders are slumped and his arms hang at his sides. Words fall from his mouth, words of apology, of being wrong. Words escape her mouth, words of anger and words of sorrow. It all culminates in her opening her arms and saying she thinks she can forgive. He murmurs Thank yous and I missed yous into her hair as he wraps his arms around her body, pulling her close. She closes her eyes and breathes in his scent and feels relief that she’s back in his arms.
Autumn isn’t usually the season of coming together in the storybooks. Spring is the season of renewal, not autumn, the season of dying. Yet real life never follows the storybooks and change occurs whenever, wherever, and sometimes it occurs in autumn, in October.
knowledge [prompt: Sam]
He staggers under the weight of the knowledge that he had been fooled. That Dean was right, that Ruby couldn’t be trusted. He trusted a demon and now Lucifer is coming. Lucifer is about to rise because he, Sam Winchester, demon hunter since childhood, trusted a demon. He was conned and now the end of the world is approaching.
He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to vomit, wants to bleed out his demon-laced blood. He wants to curl up into a little ball and sleep for a few dozen years.
But Lucifer is coming and Dean is rushing into the room, having broken the door, and Ruby needs to be dealt with. He can’t just stop because of the knowledge that weighs heavily on him, the truth that he was led astray by a demon. He can’t stop fighting because of that and so he must soldier on, even if it hurts, even if he feels sick to his stomach.
Maybe later there will be time to vomit, to sleep. Maybe later, after he has saved the world he put in jeopardy.
feathers and New England towns [prompt: ye olde soda shoppe]
It’s a small town, one of many. Its named made her smile as she spun her finger around the large map of New England, trying to decide what city or town they should fly to today for Clark’s practice.
He was getting good at the flying. Soon he wouldn’t need the feather she attached to his jacket everyday, more as a joke than anything, but it seemed to reassure him. Or at least it made him smile.
The town today is Star’s Hollow. He flies them there and afterwards they wander around town, hand in hand. His fingers are warm wrapped around hers. It’s a cool autumn day, and the town is awash in autumn colors. The trees are filled with orange and red leaves, and pumpkins dot the town square.
“Ice cream?” Clark says.
“What?”
He stops and so does she. He points across the town square to a store, whose signs advertises it as Ye Olde Sode Shoppe. It’s a bit late in the season for ice cream, but she nods her head anyways. They have no one to be and time to waste.