The Second Original Fiction Drabble-thon!

[thegalecity]

Hey all! Becky/ruffwriter again. Since we all had so much fun last time and I know we're all being pummeled by classes and work, the Original Fiction Drabble-thon is coming back for another go! The idea of this is to write something, anything at all, with your own original characters

Comments

[ruffwriter]

Write about a story that begins with an unexpected call, and ends with a door.

Part 1

[ivory_and_horn]

The narrator from the consumption drabble has a name! Also, he has picked up a friend.

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ZefrysI had been running for so long I almost didn't remember why. I just knew I had to keep going. Maybe at that point I wasn't running from anything other than myself, than the burning weight that dragged at the muscles of my back, radiating pain with every turn as they flopped wildly against me, against trees, bushes, rocks, anything. I was so exhausted sometimes I thought I was on fire, that if I could just outrun it then everything would be okay. If I just kept running, everything would be okay

Part 2

[ivory_and_horn]

I pushed the dying flesh aside carefully. There were four of the things in all, and even ragged and torn as they were-I noted the remains of at least three arrows punched through them, but they were no means the only wounds-I could tell the muscle had once been powerful. Each of the four attached seamlessly to the man's back; I quelled my urge to dissect and examine. He was not yet dead, after all, merely close to it. The wings seemed to have been a cross between bats' wings and those of insects; membranes threaded with delicate veins stretched between thin spires of bone. I bit my lip as I examined them. I did not want to take extreme measures unless I had to.

Rolling my patient over was completely out of the question. Drawing out the man's vitae through his back, through the mass of flesh in the way would be…difficult. And I did not even know if I could apply my usual techniques to a winged man of a type I'd never seen before. A winged man who was…dear gods, he was blue. I smudged aside some dust and dirt to be sure. Even the oil

Part 3

[ivory_and_horn]

"What, what, what!" a voice shouted. I froze in terror, in case it was…it was…someone bad. Someone very bad. The curtain hanging a few feet from the bed was yanked aside and a man in healer's robes stood glaring at me as he dried his hands. He was tall and thin, with angular features. He had pasty skin and the hanks of black hair hanging around his face were straight as a sword. The eyes glaring down at me were the color of dried blood. He didn't look like the, the bad people I couldn’t remember but I flinched from his gaze anyway.

He tossed the cloth aside and stepped closer to me. I shrunk back against the wall.

Then he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. The anger drained out of it, replaced by mild annoyance. "Look, we have both had a long night-you longer than me, clearly. But if the only thing you have to say to me is incessant screaming then I swear by all you hold holy I will sedate you until you are well. And you are not well, and will not be for some time, so really I think it would be a kindness forboth of us if

[ruffwriter]

"And then it stops."

[yoiyami]

Sometimes, as he watches her walk through the snow, all he sees is a normal girl. She struggles through some of the deeper drifts, legs not quite long enough to step directly in his foot prints. Her face is flushed above his scarf and her eyes smile tentatively at him. Just a normal girl

[yoiyami]

Thank you!

[noelleno]

A fear of bees.

[noelleno]

The worst radio station ever.

[noelleno]

"That's what she said."