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sidewaysTitle: Price of Admission
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Modern
Remarks: fiction_drabbles prompt - battle
“What did you do?” she would ask him, and he would stand before with hands clasped behind his back and shoulders soldier-stiff and tell her. A classic technique, he had heard her say. Teaches honesty. Responsibility. Good-little-boy necessities.
He clasps his hands now in a nostalgic nod, but he hasn’t washed yet and the feeling is less than pleasant, so he lets them swing loose by his sides once more. She doesn’t seem to notice, kneeling before him with eyes cast upwards, a tremble on her lips and reaching hand.
“What did you do,” she whispers. “What did you do.”
◘◘◘
Title: an open letter
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Apocalyptic
Remarks: fiction_drabbles prompt - forgotten
my name
check under the couch there will be a hole in the underside and a gun is in there. no ammo but maybe you will have more luck than me. there are also some other things take them if you want leave them if you dont im not going to care.
i dont think i was very good at this. i hope you are. i hope you find this i hope you EXIST never heard of one-in-seven-billion statistics so there has to be someone. thats just maths.
just want someone to know i was here MY NAME IS CA
◘◘◘
Title: Hermeneutics
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Fantasy
Remarks: fiction_drabbles prompt - exile
You do not hold grudges, you hold truths, and the truth is you cannot be cast out of a place you never were.
They should understand this, these little lives fled from a world where truth is perspective and history a debate, but still their first steps are marred by clutching, weeping, whimpering. Still they try to rebuild and reshape, though there is not much that can be formed from stale ashes and viscera, as well you know. As well you knew.
Because the truth is-
The truth is-
You cannot be cast out of a place that never was.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Modern
Remarks: fiction_drabbles prompt - battle
“What did you do?” she would ask him, and he would stand before with hands clasped behind his back and shoulders soldier-stiff and tell her. A classic technique, he had heard her say. Teaches honesty. Responsibility. Good-little-boy necessities.
He clasps his hands now in a nostalgic nod, but he hasn’t washed yet and the feeling is less than pleasant, so he lets them swing loose by his sides once more. She doesn’t seem to notice, kneeling before him with eyes cast upwards, a tremble on her lips and reaching hand.
“What did you do,” she whispers. “What did you do.”
◘◘◘
Title: an open letter
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Apocalyptic
Remarks: fiction_drabbles prompt - forgotten
check under the couch there will be a hole in the underside and a gun is in there. no ammo but maybe you will have more luck than me. there are also some other things take them if you want leave them if you dont im not going to care.
i dont think i was very good at this. i hope you are. i hope you find this i hope you EXIST never heard of one-in-seven-billion statistics so there has to be someone. thats just maths.
just want someone to know i was here MY NAME IS CA
◘◘◘
Title: Hermeneutics
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Genre: Fantasy
Remarks: fiction_drabbles prompt - exile
You do not hold grudges, you hold truths, and the truth is you cannot be cast out of a place you never were.
They should understand this, these little lives fled from a world where truth is perspective and history a debate, but still their first steps are marred by clutching, weeping, whimpering. Still they try to rebuild and reshape, though there is not much that can be formed from stale ashes and viscera, as well you know. As well you knew.
Because the truth is-
The truth is-
You cannot be cast out of a place that never was.
