Drabbles
In the past, I rarely read drabbles. They're so short, and just as I'm getting into what's happening, they're over. But for some reason I can't explain, I've been doing a few drabbles at open_on_sunday for the past couple of weeks, and really enjoying it.
I realized this morning that I hadn't put them up on my lj. I'm new at drabbling, so don't expect too much. Getting an idea across in such a limited space is really a challenge for wordy mcword word me.
I like how these turned out though. I think I'm just starting to get the hang of it.
Let Be Be Finale of Seem (prompt: bow)
Bow strung, the wooden arrow notched, she waited behind the oak tree’s shielding trunk. It wasn’t possible to look him in the eyes when she did it. Those eyes that delved inside her and read her secrets and shame equally.
She hated him for the relief he provided, for the seeming surcease from loss that electrified her body when she came. It had to stop. She couldn’t bear it any longer. She was losing herself in the curve of his mouth, the quivered ivory of his rigid cock. In the moonlight, his face turned to her as he was extinguished.
The Little Things (prompt: screen)
A warm breeze filtered through the window screen, ruffling the leaves of the herbs and geraniums set out in big clay pots on the kitchen sill. Petal, a collapsed puddle of cat fur, sprawled in a spill of sunshine near the back door, thick ebony coat gleaming like oil on the white linoleum.
Spike scratched at the bed-ruffled tangle of his hair, a stream of smoke slipping contentedly from between his lips as he listened to the beat of his heart and the bubble of perking coffee. He turned his head as a floor board creaked behind him.
“Morning, Pouf.”
Holiday Spirit (prompt: pride)
“Ho!”
“Ho?”
“‘K, ho, ho, if you wanna be anal retentive ‘bout it.”
“Have I told you lately how weird you are?”
“Sixty or seventy times in the past hour. But hell, Angel. Never celebrated Christmas together before. Just tryin’ to get in the mood and all.”
“That’s fair. Sorry. Here. Open this one.”
There was the rattle of crumpling paper.
“Shorts? You got me shorts?”
“Well, yeah. They’re Christmas shorts. Little trees and colored balls.”
“You tryin’ to tell me something here, git?”
“No. No!”
“‘K. Lost my pride with the Santa socks. Grotty knickers? Pucker up, big boy.”
I realized this morning that I hadn't put them up on my lj. I'm new at drabbling, so don't expect too much. Getting an idea across in such a limited space is really a challenge for wordy mcword word me.
I like how these turned out though. I think I'm just starting to get the hang of it.
Let Be Be Finale of Seem (prompt: bow)
Bow strung, the wooden arrow notched, she waited behind the oak tree’s shielding trunk. It wasn’t possible to look him in the eyes when she did it. Those eyes that delved inside her and read her secrets and shame equally.
She hated him for the relief he provided, for the seeming surcease from loss that electrified her body when she came. It had to stop. She couldn’t bear it any longer. She was losing herself in the curve of his mouth, the quivered ivory of his rigid cock. In the moonlight, his face turned to her as he was extinguished.
The Little Things (prompt: screen)
A warm breeze filtered through the window screen, ruffling the leaves of the herbs and geraniums set out in big clay pots on the kitchen sill. Petal, a collapsed puddle of cat fur, sprawled in a spill of sunshine near the back door, thick ebony coat gleaming like oil on the white linoleum.
Spike scratched at the bed-ruffled tangle of his hair, a stream of smoke slipping contentedly from between his lips as he listened to the beat of his heart and the bubble of perking coffee. He turned his head as a floor board creaked behind him.
“Morning, Pouf.”
Holiday Spirit (prompt: pride)
“Ho!”
“Ho?”
“‘K, ho, ho, if you wanna be anal retentive ‘bout it.”
“Have I told you lately how weird you are?”
“Sixty or seventy times in the past hour. But hell, Angel. Never celebrated Christmas together before. Just tryin’ to get in the mood and all.”
“That’s fair. Sorry. Here. Open this one.”
There was the rattle of crumpling paper.
“Shorts? You got me shorts?”
“Well, yeah. They’re Christmas shorts. Little trees and colored balls.”
“You tryin’ to tell me something here, git?”
“No. No!”
“‘K. Lost my pride with the Santa socks. Grotty knickers? Pucker up, big boy.”