cookies 'n' cream and grapefruit with malt and whipped cream
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Ribbons and Chocolate
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Cookies ‘n’ Cream #3: spin, Grapefruit #9: in lights
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream, malt
Wordcount: 414
Summary: Jacob Graham is a thief.
Notes: Warning for domestic aggression/minor violence. Finishing Cookies 'n' Cream on a bit of a downer. Grapefruit PFAH: Jacob : the lion sleeps tonight.
Jacob always had an affinity with the night. The air was cool and deeper somehow, easier to breathe. The stars formed a vibrant web of glitter in the sky through the gap in the curtains as he slipped through the wagon, old warped wood springing beneath his grimy heels. He moved carefully, though he was never that good at being careful.
One of his hands felt over the dusty surface of an old chest of drawers, nudging bottles and moving sheaves of paper that were printed with posters for their carnival. After a moment the scrawny young boy closed his hands over a large square tin and he drew it towards himself, coins rattling within.
He grinned victory to himself as he lifted it.
Unfortunately, Doran Tynker was a light sleeper. The room was suddenly blitzed by light as the door to his bunk-room was thrown open. Jacob scarcely had time to react before thumping footsteps sounded on the floorboards behind him and suddenly he was knocked violently to one side, feet losing their always-unsteady grip on the floor and sending him tangling into a corner, curling the tin under his arm even as his head knocked the wall.
“Light-fingered little bastard!” Doran exploded at his grandson.
The world spun sickeningly around his head, every sense pivoting haltingly. Nonetheless, Jacob managed to find a voice.
“This money don’t belong to you!”
Despite this attestation the tin was torn from his fingers quickly, the money rattling within. Doran put the lantern down and slammed the tin back onto the top of his chest of drawers.
“What does that mean, yer little snotrag?” Doran spat, folding his swarthy arms as he walked towards his wayward grandson. Jacob scowled and wrapped his tatty jerkin tighter around himself, tucking his chin down into his chest and rubbing the back of his head with one hand, fingers tangling through the scruffy curls.
“Nothin’,” he muttered, thinking about his mother’s hard-earned money lying in the tin.
He didn’t see why his grandfather should keep everything when his mam wanted to get herself ribbons and chocolate like the other girls.
“Do yer know how bloody much yer’ve cost us?” Doran said, ruddy face twisting into a scowl to match Jacob’s. “And now stealing! Should’ve had you drowned at birth.”
“I’m a good swimmer.”
“Get out of here,” Doran snapped, “and if I catch yer again I’ll give yer ears a real boxing! That or your bleedin’ useless mother, God help me.”
Title: Ribbons and Chocolate
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Cookies ‘n’ Cream #3: spin, Grapefruit #9: in lights
Toppings/Extras: whipped cream, malt
Wordcount: 414
Summary: Jacob Graham is a thief.
Notes: Warning for domestic aggression/minor violence. Finishing Cookies 'n' Cream on a bit of a downer. Grapefruit PFAH: Jacob : the lion sleeps tonight.
Jacob always had an affinity with the night. The air was cool and deeper somehow, easier to breathe. The stars formed a vibrant web of glitter in the sky through the gap in the curtains as he slipped through the wagon, old warped wood springing beneath his grimy heels. He moved carefully, though he was never that good at being careful.
One of his hands felt over the dusty surface of an old chest of drawers, nudging bottles and moving sheaves of paper that were printed with posters for their carnival. After a moment the scrawny young boy closed his hands over a large square tin and he drew it towards himself, coins rattling within.
He grinned victory to himself as he lifted it.
Unfortunately, Doran Tynker was a light sleeper. The room was suddenly blitzed by light as the door to his bunk-room was thrown open. Jacob scarcely had time to react before thumping footsteps sounded on the floorboards behind him and suddenly he was knocked violently to one side, feet losing their always-unsteady grip on the floor and sending him tangling into a corner, curling the tin under his arm even as his head knocked the wall.
“Light-fingered little bastard!” Doran exploded at his grandson.
The world spun sickeningly around his head, every sense pivoting haltingly. Nonetheless, Jacob managed to find a voice.
“This money don’t belong to you!”
Despite this attestation the tin was torn from his fingers quickly, the money rattling within. Doran put the lantern down and slammed the tin back onto the top of his chest of drawers.
“What does that mean, yer little snotrag?” Doran spat, folding his swarthy arms as he walked towards his wayward grandson. Jacob scowled and wrapped his tatty jerkin tighter around himself, tucking his chin down into his chest and rubbing the back of his head with one hand, fingers tangling through the scruffy curls.
“Nothin’,” he muttered, thinking about his mother’s hard-earned money lying in the tin.
He didn’t see why his grandfather should keep everything when his mam wanted to get herself ribbons and chocolate like the other girls.
“Do yer know how bloody much yer’ve cost us?” Doran said, ruddy face twisting into a scowl to match Jacob’s. “And now stealing! Should’ve had you drowned at birth.”
“I’m a good swimmer.”
“Get out of here,” Doran snapped, “and if I catch yer again I’ll give yer ears a real boxing! That or your bleedin’ useless mother, God help me.”