debt repayment: elenore
All night the ticking of the mantel clock was thrown in and out of loudness by the competing wail of the raid sirens and the whistle and distant crash of falling bombs; all night Peter turned and turned again on the thin cushions of his late grandmother's couch, because sleeping in her bed would have been eerie and strange when he'd not yet had time to bury her.
The room was unnaturally dark, the black-out curtains taped into place with gum and glue in and, in places, nails. Peter, she'd said, never mind the woodwork. There was a nice man round from the Ministry said we should keep the lights from showing and I don't intend to let the side down.
He unfolded himself from the horsehair-leaking sofa at dawn; a change he could more feel than see beyond the curtains, a change in the sounds of the city. Letting the side down was something Peter was intimate with, of course, and Grandma had meant him to know it as he nailed the blackout blinds down.
Just because you're too young to sign up. Why not just lie? She'd offered to help.
Peter never wanted to fight. Or to die.
Exactly 200 words, "200 word story (Mourning over the past, war, romance. Can be about all three or just one, I'm not picky!)."
Your Derek is suffering temporary virulent paranoia problems and is talking through them with her imaginary psychiatrist who says stop being so damn sensitive and wait until the next mood swing. UNHELPFUL, WH. UNHELPFUL.
The room was unnaturally dark, the black-out curtains taped into place with gum and glue in and, in places, nails. Peter, she'd said, never mind the woodwork. There was a nice man round from the Ministry said we should keep the lights from showing and I don't intend to let the side down.
He unfolded himself from the horsehair-leaking sofa at dawn; a change he could more feel than see beyond the curtains, a change in the sounds of the city. Letting the side down was something Peter was intimate with, of course, and Grandma had meant him to know it as he nailed the blackout blinds down.
Just because you're too young to sign up. Why not just lie? She'd offered to help.
Peter never wanted to fight. Or to die.
Exactly 200 words, "200 word story (Mourning over the past, war, romance. Can be about all three or just one, I'm not picky!)."
Your Derek is suffering temporary virulent paranoia problems and is talking through them with her imaginary psychiatrist who says stop being so damn sensitive and wait until the next mood swing. UNHELPFUL, WH. UNHELPFUL.