flavour of the day
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Foundations
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: verisimilitude
Toppings/Extras: none
Wordcount: 406
Summary: Victor Blackledge tries to see what is real, not what was once real.
Notes: Inspired partly by this song… oh dear. I’m sorry, Victor. XD Verisimilitude: The appearance of truth; the quality of seeming to be true. Something that has the appearance of being true or real.
Only the foundations were left. Robyn and Victor sat in a corner of the abandoned Facility; what had once been two walls were now two stumpy little rows of concrete that, even while sitting, was not as tall as them. They looked over the rubble and the little stone walls together for a while. There was still a sooty feeling to the stone even though it had been years since the fire.
Some of the buildings still stood. This one didn’t.
“I can still see everything,” Victor said with a small, humourless smile. His eyes were roving over a room that no longer existed, picking out details. Children walked in orderly lines. Tall wardens with long feet moved like ghosts. The sounds, even the smells, they were all there.
It was a sunny day but on Victor’s skin the temperature dropped. Cold spider’s legs closed around his throat. Shadows moved around him and his blood continued to chill.
“There’s nothing left,” Robyn said.
There’s always something left while I remember, Victor thought, but he didn’t say it. As she always did, Robyn knew that he wasn’t convinced and slowly dragged herself to her feet. Grinding her boot into grit-scattered concrete, she walked through the centre of the image and put her hands on her hips. Ghosts of the past withered around her.
She turned to face him.
“Come on,” she said.
They pushed through white-faced children together, walked through the walls of his prison. Oh, this place did funny things to his head. As long as they stayed away from the labs, he’d be OK. He could see parts of the building burning, the smoke, the flaking wood. And in other parts the place was untouched, clean, bright and staring. The walls continued, the foundations too solid in his mind to be uprooted. To be burned down.
It was in every one of his senses. Living memories that moved as he moved, lived as he lived…
“Victor.”
He looked at Robyn, the only real thing amidst a swamp of writhing memories, the smile on her face dimming the walls and bringing a little bit of warmth back from the sun, its rays weakly puncturing the eroded ceiling above his head. She touched him on the arm briefly, a little sharply, and then ducked and weaved slightly, hair flicking like a golden streamer behind her head, her grin turning playful and her boots skidding on brick.
“Tag!”
Title: Foundations
Rating: G
Challenge: FOTD: verisimilitude
Toppings/Extras: none
Wordcount: 406
Summary: Victor Blackledge tries to see what is real, not what was once real.
Notes: Inspired partly by this song… oh dear. I’m sorry, Victor. XD Verisimilitude: The appearance of truth; the quality of seeming to be true. Something that has the appearance of being true or real.
Only the foundations were left. Robyn and Victor sat in a corner of the abandoned Facility; what had once been two walls were now two stumpy little rows of concrete that, even while sitting, was not as tall as them. They looked over the rubble and the little stone walls together for a while. There was still a sooty feeling to the stone even though it had been years since the fire.
Some of the buildings still stood. This one didn’t.
“I can still see everything,” Victor said with a small, humourless smile. His eyes were roving over a room that no longer existed, picking out details. Children walked in orderly lines. Tall wardens with long feet moved like ghosts. The sounds, even the smells, they were all there.
It was a sunny day but on Victor’s skin the temperature dropped. Cold spider’s legs closed around his throat. Shadows moved around him and his blood continued to chill.
“There’s nothing left,” Robyn said.
There’s always something left while I remember, Victor thought, but he didn’t say it. As she always did, Robyn knew that he wasn’t convinced and slowly dragged herself to her feet. Grinding her boot into grit-scattered concrete, she walked through the centre of the image and put her hands on her hips. Ghosts of the past withered around her.
She turned to face him.
“Come on,” she said.
They pushed through white-faced children together, walked through the walls of his prison. Oh, this place did funny things to his head. As long as they stayed away from the labs, he’d be OK. He could see parts of the building burning, the smoke, the flaking wood. And in other parts the place was untouched, clean, bright and staring. The walls continued, the foundations too solid in his mind to be uprooted. To be burned down.
It was in every one of his senses. Living memories that moved as he moved, lived as he lived…
“Victor.”
He looked at Robyn, the only real thing amidst a swamp of writhing memories, the smile on her face dimming the walls and bringing a little bit of warmth back from the sun, its rays weakly puncturing the eroded ceiling above his head. She touched him on the arm briefly, a little sharply, and then ducked and weaved slightly, hair flicking like a golden streamer behind her head, her grin turning playful and her boots skidding on brick.
“Tag!”