[Original: Drabble] "What It's Like" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: What It’s Like
Prompt: writerverse challenge #16 january table of doom, prompt ‘dead and buried’ & ‘deathless’
Word Count: 420
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: “Is this going to be what it’s like, always?”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
What It's Like
Howell bought a newspaper when he went in to get our supper. Normally, I would have given him a hard time for being an old man, but I actually enjoyed reading the printed news, so I just took the sections I liked and left him to it. After I had finished my hoagie, I spread a few pages out on the dashboard of our patrol car, idly flipping through them as I sipped my mint-mocha latte.
On the bottom of the Obituaries, a name caught my eye.
“Oh!” I breathed, in surprise.
“What?” my partner asked.
“This girl,” I said, pointing to the paper. “Veronica. I knew her in high school. We weren’t friends, exactly, but we talked, sometimes.”
“And she’s in the paper?”
“She’s dead. The cause isn’t listed, which usually… well, you know, sir. Means she likely took her own life.”
Howell didn’t say anything, but I was getting as good at reading his silences as his scowls, and this one meant that he was listening.
“I just…” I said, trying to find the right words. “Is this going to be what it’s like, always? I mean, Veronica was still young, but it’s going to keep happening. I’ll outlive everyone I ever knew.”
“Yes, you will,” said Howell, gently, but without trying to sugarcoat it. “Living for centuries is not always the blessing it’s made out to be.”
“Is it harder, being a cop?” I asked, more curious than upset now. Howell often had that effect on me. “We’re supposed to be the ones who die first, right?”
“There’s no one way a life is ‘supposed’ to go, Jones. Bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people. The only thing you can control is your responses to those things.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “And if I choose to be depressed and annoying?”
“Then I can choose to give you extra paperwork,” Howell replied. “Life is all about choices.”
“Then what do I do, sir? When I’m the only one left?”
My partner was quiet for a long moment, carefully folding the sections of the newspaper he had been reading. “Make new friends,” he said, at last. “And, maybe someday, you’ll find a wayward young werewolf to take under your wing.”
I laughed. “Thanks, sir.”
He smiled- well, okay, one corner of his mouth curled up slightly, but I knew it was a smile- and put the car into gear. “Call in and tell Dispatch that we’re on duty again.”
“Yes, sir.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #16 january table of doom, prompt ‘dead and buried’ & ‘deathless’
Word Count: 420
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: “Is this going to be what it’s like, always?”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
What It's Like
Howell bought a newspaper when he went in to get our supper. Normally, I would have given him a hard time for being an old man, but I actually enjoyed reading the printed news, so I just took the sections I liked and left him to it. After I had finished my hoagie, I spread a few pages out on the dashboard of our patrol car, idly flipping through them as I sipped my mint-mocha latte.
On the bottom of the Obituaries, a name caught my eye.
“Oh!” I breathed, in surprise.
“What?” my partner asked.
“This girl,” I said, pointing to the paper. “Veronica. I knew her in high school. We weren’t friends, exactly, but we talked, sometimes.”
“And she’s in the paper?”
“She’s dead. The cause isn’t listed, which usually… well, you know, sir. Means she likely took her own life.”
Howell didn’t say anything, but I was getting as good at reading his silences as his scowls, and this one meant that he was listening.
“I just…” I said, trying to find the right words. “Is this going to be what it’s like, always? I mean, Veronica was still young, but it’s going to keep happening. I’ll outlive everyone I ever knew.”
“Yes, you will,” said Howell, gently, but without trying to sugarcoat it. “Living for centuries is not always the blessing it’s made out to be.”
“Is it harder, being a cop?” I asked, more curious than upset now. Howell often had that effect on me. “We’re supposed to be the ones who die first, right?”
“There’s no one way a life is ‘supposed’ to go, Jones. Bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people. The only thing you can control is your responses to those things.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “And if I choose to be depressed and annoying?”
“Then I can choose to give you extra paperwork,” Howell replied. “Life is all about choices.”
“Then what do I do, sir? When I’m the only one left?”
My partner was quiet for a long moment, carefully folding the sections of the newspaper he had been reading. “Make new friends,” he said, at last. “And, maybe someday, you’ll find a wayward young werewolf to take under your wing.”
I laughed. “Thanks, sir.”
He smiled- well, okay, one corner of his mouth curled up slightly, but I knew it was a smile- and put the car into gear. “Call in and tell Dispatch that we’re on duty again.”
“Yes, sir.”
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow