Drabble prompts!
This week's drabble prompts are brought to you by Anne Taintor, maker of snarky magnets featuring vintage images of vindictive housewives and women behaving badly. Each prompt comes with both a picture and a caption, and while most are related to domestic or sexual situations, please feel free to explore and interpret them however you like.
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“Hey! Hey, you still with me?-what’s your name? Hey, come on, tell me your name!”
He forced his eyes open, and found himself looking into wide blue eyes.
“George,” he finally managed. The pain was intense. Phaser fire lit the hallway they’d managed to fortify themselves in.
This was stupid, he’d later decide. It shouldn’t have happened. This was a research center, staffed by Starfleet science officers. He was just a midshipman working his way up the rank, heading a basic re-supplying. But when the attack had come, when the doors had been blown inwards and the phaser fire had started, he’d grabbed the hand of the nearest scientist, rounded up who he could, forced them towards cover-
--and had gotten shot in the process.
“George, George what, honey?” the woman asked again, slapping his face gently as she did.
“Winny, Winny they’re getting closer!” someone was crying, and yea, the phaser fire was getting louder. He was slipping further away, but all he could really think was this was a STUPID way to die.
“Kirk,” he said, eyes closing again.
“Great, well, George Kirk, you’re going to keep your eyes open for me, ok? You’re going to stay with me, because if you die here I’ll never forgive you, because you’re the first cute boy I’ve seen in three months.”
And he laughed. God help him he laughed. “I bet you say that to…all the boys,” he grunted, muscles spasming from the pain of laughing.
But the blue-eyed woman holding him steady was smiling, though it was a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Winny! They’re almost here!” was the frantic cry.
“Back up?” he gasped, struggling to hold on; a sudden animal urge to fight welled up within him, and the woman frowned as she held him down.
“We don’t know-besides, they’d be on the other side of the complex-we’re cornered here,” she explained, forcing him to lie still again.
Her eyes turned downwards; he thought to examine once more the abdominal wound he sincerely had no desire to know more about. But her hand reached over-hesitated-and pulled back, his phaser in hand.
“Hang in there, George,” she said as she lowered his head from her hold. He could feel the brush of her fingers at his temple-for a wild, pain-induced moment, he thought they alone could anchor him to this world.
There were cries of protests around him, shadows from frantic movement, and she was gone.
He lingered between life and death, and wondered if he’d see her again.
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