Fic: time is the fire in which we burn
Title: time is the fire in which we burn
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 205
Characters: Rose (implied Ten/Rose)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: She collects watches because they remind her of him.
A/N: For Challenge 15, More Photos, at then_theres_us; picture used is behind the cut. Fic title comes from a quote by Delmore Schwartz.
She collects watches because they remind her of him.
They lay scattered haphazardly on her dresser, wrist watches, pocket watches, watches on necklaces and watches on keychains.
They all work and some of them tick and the ticking is discordant, none of them marking the seconds in the same instant.
It wasn't anything she ever intended to do, she didn't wake up one morning with a plan in mind. She was out one day, for no particular reason, and noticed the watch in the window of an antique shop. Nothing terribly remarkable about it, but it struck something in her and she bought it.
From there it began and now her collection covers the dresser surface.
Sometimes she sits and stares at them, wondering which one will be the one that marks his return. Which one will flip the minute or sound its next tick when she hears those engines that signal he's coming for her?
The ticking fills her mind, pervades her dreams, and she wonders once, just once, if this is what going mad feels like.
The ticking is a comfort though, and the watch faces glitter in the lamp light, shimmering before her eyes and she is calm. Waiting.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 205
Characters: Rose (implied Ten/Rose)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: She collects watches because they remind her of him.
A/N: For Challenge 15, More Photos, at then_theres_us; picture used is behind the cut. Fic title comes from a quote by Delmore Schwartz.
She collects watches because they remind her of him.
They lay scattered haphazardly on her dresser, wrist watches, pocket watches, watches on necklaces and watches on keychains.
They all work and some of them tick and the ticking is discordant, none of them marking the seconds in the same instant.
It wasn't anything she ever intended to do, she didn't wake up one morning with a plan in mind. She was out one day, for no particular reason, and noticed the watch in the window of an antique shop. Nothing terribly remarkable about it, but it struck something in her and she bought it.
From there it began and now her collection covers the dresser surface.
Sometimes she sits and stares at them, wondering which one will be the one that marks his return. Which one will flip the minute or sound its next tick when she hears those engines that signal he's coming for her?
The ticking fills her mind, pervades her dreams, and she wonders once, just once, if this is what going mad feels like.
The ticking is a comfort though, and the watch faces glitter in the lamp light, shimmering before her eyes and she is calm. Waiting.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.