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x_project2006-01-15 02:16 am
x-catseye.livejournal.com) wrote in x_project2006-01-15 02:16 am
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Three drabbles
One I took out from the last bunch I made and two new ones, since this is a thematic thing for the three here, and I wanted to complete the trio.
Scott :: Childhood Memories
The smell he remembers the best from his childhood is that of leather. A clean, sharp smell, that wakes the senses and brings the memory of brisk and cold winds, the sound of an engine roaring away as the road unfurls under the wheels of a great, powerful motorcycle, its path decided by a blur of intermittent lines inscribed on black and scarred asphalt.
Strong hands lifting him down from the motorcycle, a brief moment where Scott is suspended between the sky and the ground, sometimes being pushed upwards first, the sounds of a plane being mimicked by a voice resonating around him, along with laughter. His and that of another's.
Scott doesn't remember his father's face. But he remembers hands, strong and gentle and kind. And laughter. Warm and happy, with undertones of love and endless affection.
He remembers feeling safe, suspended between the heavens and the earth, an engine's lullaby soothing him to sleep on the way home.
~*~
Sean :: Turning Point
Sean stared at the screen of his small office, ignoring the sounds of the precinct surrounding him, the swears from angry prisoners brought in, the mocking responses of the officers.
His entire world was centered upon the small telly and the small baby cradled within, soft blue eyes staring towards him quizzically, the wings of an angel doll carelessly flapping in and out of sight with each move she made.
Sean reached forward carefully and softly touched the screen, as though fearing it might disappear.
"I have a daughter," he whispered, softly, disbelief overwhelmed by incredulous joy.
The knowledge that he had missed her entire childhood did nothing to dim his wonder. Angel wings kept beating softly, long into the night, as he rewound the tape over and over again, crouching protectively towards the screen in the darkness of his office.
~*~
Jamie :: The Old Wizard
When he was young, Jamie had firmly believed that there was someone out there, someone magical and special who placed new shoes just inside his bedroom by the door, every time he outgrew the old ones. He'd tried to catch this mysterious person for many years, until finally, one day, the shoes had stopped showing up even though he hadn't finished growing yet.
Since then, every time Jamie wears out a pair of shoes (which happens faster than you'd think, from the accumulated wear of many a dupe), he sends them back home. His mother knows what to do with them, even though they've never spoken on the matter, and every now and then a pair of shoes replaces the worn one set there beforehand, forever marking the grave of Jamie's grandfather.
See grandpa? I figured out. And I still miss you, is the unspoken and unwritten message.
Scott :: Childhood Memories
The smell he remembers the best from his childhood is that of leather. A clean, sharp smell, that wakes the senses and brings the memory of brisk and cold winds, the sound of an engine roaring away as the road unfurls under the wheels of a great, powerful motorcycle, its path decided by a blur of intermittent lines inscribed on black and scarred asphalt.
Strong hands lifting him down from the motorcycle, a brief moment where Scott is suspended between the sky and the ground, sometimes being pushed upwards first, the sounds of a plane being mimicked by a voice resonating around him, along with laughter. His and that of another's.
Scott doesn't remember his father's face. But he remembers hands, strong and gentle and kind. And laughter. Warm and happy, with undertones of love and endless affection.
He remembers feeling safe, suspended between the heavens and the earth, an engine's lullaby soothing him to sleep on the way home.
~*~
Sean :: Turning Point
Sean stared at the screen of his small office, ignoring the sounds of the precinct surrounding him, the swears from angry prisoners brought in, the mocking responses of the officers.
His entire world was centered upon the small telly and the small baby cradled within, soft blue eyes staring towards him quizzically, the wings of an angel doll carelessly flapping in and out of sight with each move she made.
Sean reached forward carefully and softly touched the screen, as though fearing it might disappear.
"I have a daughter," he whispered, softly, disbelief overwhelmed by incredulous joy.
The knowledge that he had missed her entire childhood did nothing to dim his wonder. Angel wings kept beating softly, long into the night, as he rewound the tape over and over again, crouching protectively towards the screen in the darkness of his office.
~*~
Jamie :: The Old Wizard
When he was young, Jamie had firmly believed that there was someone out there, someone magical and special who placed new shoes just inside his bedroom by the door, every time he outgrew the old ones. He'd tried to catch this mysterious person for many years, until finally, one day, the shoes had stopped showing up even though he hadn't finished growing yet.
Since then, every time Jamie wears out a pair of shoes (which happens faster than you'd think, from the accumulated wear of many a dupe), he sends them back home. His mother knows what to do with them, even though they've never spoken on the matter, and every now and then a pair of shoes replaces the worn one set there beforehand, forever marking the grave of Jamie's grandfather.
See grandpa? I figured out. And I still miss you, is the unspoken and unwritten message.