If it's the 17th, that can only mean...
Sep. 17th, 2005 01:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
in_the_blueWriting Challenge!
Last month I asked for feedback on the challenge guidelines themselves and got some suggestions. I liked some of what I got and didn't like some other bits of what I got and really, since I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul, I've made just one change: upped the word count to 400. The point is that this is still a short-short themed fic challenge; there are many opportunities for writing longer pieces of work and there are many opportunties for including specific phrases in challenges. So to keep this different I'm still keeping the theme; I won't dictate anything beyond that for this time around.
This month's theme is falling (in honor of autumn, in an oblique kind of way).
Rules (remember, they're more like guidelines):
Write, write, write. It's good for you.
Last month I asked for feedback on the challenge guidelines themselves and got some suggestions. I liked some of what I got and didn't like some other bits of what I got and really, since I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul, I've made just one change: upped the word count to 400. The point is that this is still a short-short themed fic challenge; there are many opportunities for writing longer pieces of work and there are many opportunties for including specific phrases in challenges. So to keep this different I'm still keeping the theme; I won't dictate anything beyond that for this time around.
This month's theme is falling (in honor of autumn, in an oblique kind of way).
Rules (remember, they're more like guidelines):
- Fandom: any, so long as it's one you know well.
- Word count: 400 or less
- Main theme: Falling.
- Ratings: No restrictions.
- Duration: Challenge opens today and closes at 11:59 p.m. Saturday, September 24. A week and a day so we have two Saturdays at our disposal.
Write, write, write. It's good for you.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-21 08:41 pm (UTC)Spike is good here: he's precise at 400 words.
I know what it feels like to almost die.
Hell, that's no surprise: I've been shot and sliced and had the shit beat out of me and left for dead more times than I can begin to even count. They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die, but I think that's a load of bullshit. I've never gotten the whole sad story: just bits and pieces, like snapshots.
Maybe I should have known from the moment I met him that someone named Vicious wasn't going to be real good for my health. But still, I'm kind of an opportunistic guy: he was all right. We were friends, me and Vicious, for a long time. Even though we both loved the same woman.
I don't think that's why he threw me out that church window. Well, wait. To be honest, that's probably part of it, but I don't think it's the only reason. I think he did it because he wanted to be the one: he wanted to be chosen. He wanted to be first. Can we always get what we want?
Fuck, no.
Julia chose him first. But he wanted to head the Syndicate and he was never going to get chosen for that. Too damn inflexible. I don't think I would have been any good at it, but I wasn't going to try even though they wanted me for it. So I said goodbye to everything and everyone. Goodbye, Vicious, goodbye Julia, goodbye Lin and Shin. Goodbye Annie, goodbye Mao. I'm gone, dead, fallen from grace for the last time.
And three years later, after he killed Mao, Vicious pushed me through that stained glass rose window up high in a church and I fell. I watched the remnants of that window rain down on me as I fell and I watched the grenade that fell out of my pocket destroy that church and all the while, I fell. And as I fell I had a curious dream: I dreamed of Julia, of what it was like when I first fell in love with her. But I knew it wasn't a dream when images started racing by in fits and starts like photographs: Julia. Vicious. Roses. Gunfire. Train tickets. The hot white edge of a sharp katana. Stumbling. Falling.
Falling.
It was all too familiar: I closed my eyes and hoped I'd never wake up.
Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-21 08:45 pm (UTC)Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-21 08:49 pm (UTC)Paging Mr. Blum, Mr. Steven Jay Blum. Your presence is requested to read a short story in the airport lounge. Thank you.
That's the voice I hear (well, not the airport P.A. system voice, but the voice-actor voice). I'm glad you do, too.
Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-21 08:58 pm (UTC)It makes me think of something that's kinda always distressed me about Spike, this sort of death wish of his. It just doesn't seem right... does that makes sense?
Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-21 09:08 pm (UTC)There are theories. So many theories. But if I got into them now this answer would turn into an essay of epic proportions and I almost feel like my essay-writing days are over.
Oh, screw it: here I go.
Lesson One: Live fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse.
Lesson Two: Years ago, back when I was much younger, I was afraid of nothing. I didn't have the slightest fear of death. I was ready to die any time. But then I met a special woman. She made me want to go on living. For the first time, I was afraid of death. A feeling I'd never had before.
Lesson Three: Ever heard this story? There once was a tiger-striped cat. This cat died a million deaths, revived and lived a million lives and he was owned by various people who he didn't really care for. The cat wasn't afraid to die... Then one day, the cat became a stray cat, which meant he was was free. He met a white female cat, and the two of them spent their days together happily. Well, years passed, and the white cat grew weak and died of old age. The tiger-striped cat cried a million times, and then he died too. Except this time, he didn't come back to life.
He's complex. He cares and he doesn't care. He wants but he doesn't want. He's really kind of mysterious, wrapped in this package of "I don't give a shit."
I've read theories that the whole series is just a dream of Spike's. Who knows? Only Shinichirô Watanabe, perhaps? Maybe yes, maybe no. I don't think Spike has a death wish per se, but I think he doesn't really care whether he lives or dies. There's a big difference between the two.
I would go on. And I probably will, some other time. But enough for now. This must be longer than the short fic itself.
Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-21 09:17 pm (UTC)Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-27 05:00 pm (UTC)Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-27 05:19 pm (UTC)It's just a little slice of a view into Spike's brain. I probably spend more than enough time there. You know how it goes.
Re: Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / Spike
Date: 2005-09-27 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-22 03:30 am (UTC)I've done my share of falling.
I know what it's like to fall in love, what it's like to stumble, and what it's like to fall off of someone's pedestal.
I also know what it's like to fall 10,000 feet in an airplane.
For me, it started the moment I saw the first man dying, blood spouting from his mouth, his nose, his eyes. My stomach dropped and my eyes couldn't shut no matter how much I wanted them to, and it was just like a horror novel.
Fucking unreal.
I'd never seen anything like that before and I heard my own voice say oh my God, we need a doctor right before I turned my head and noticed the same fucking thing happening to the guy across the aisle, the same blood tearing down his face, the same vacant eyes, and I finally realized, feeling like the floor had dropped from under me, that the screaming, that outburst of hysterics in the cabin that had made itself static in the back of my mind, wasn't just for the one man.
Or even for two men.
It was for all of the men on the plane.
And I felt like I was falling.
Don't panic! Just try to stay calm! was the best advice I've probably ever given and the least likely to be taken.
I could barely listen to it myself.
Wayne, my purser, cracking jokes just minutes before was crumpled in the aisle, and rendered stupid by shock, I didn't expect my pilot and co-pilot to be dead when I went to bang on the door to the cockpit.
It felt like I was falling.
And the instant I opened the door was the one moment when I could've cried.
Pilot dead, co-pilot dead. Half the plane dead.
And we really were falling.
Daughters of Eve, falling from grace.
(I always thought Eve got a bum rap.)
It wasn't the fucking Rapture, those men weren't chosen, and I meant every word I said to the woman in the tower who tried to help me land: if we were all damned and were all going to die, I'd have led my dozens of female passengers in kicking her ass when we all got hell.
I didn't know why I couldn't set the flaps. I didn't know the automatic landing system was activated. I didn't know what I was doing.
I didn't know.
But we were still (10,000 and dropping hard) falling.
"What do I do now?"
"Pray."
I didn't.
I didn't pray and I didn't cry, and there was this blink-and-you'll-miss-it thought of How could this have happened? Why are they dying? Do I really want to survive this?
I did. And when I thought I was going to die I finally closed my eyes, clenching them shut, only to open them again, wide, at the whip of impact and the crunch of metal and the burst of flame.
I'm not afraid of flying. Never have been, never will be. But it doesn't mean I'm not afraid of falling.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-22 03:41 am (UTC)First: I'm really glad I know Beth's part of her canon. But even if I didn't, this sets that scene so perfectly. We both play and write with a lot of people, but I don't think I know very many people out there who've taken the time to study and live and breathe and know their character the way you know Beth.
Second: I've said this before but you impress the hell out of me on a regular basis. It's such a pleasure to get to write with you, because you do these things with words that just make my jaw drop every once in a while. The last paragraph in this ficlet is one of those moments.
Third: You've made Beth so real. She's gruff and she's ballsy and she's reserved and she's cautious and strong and it's all so in keeping with those 2 issues of canon. She's self-confident but with this edge of... well, this edge to her that's urgent. No wonder Spike couldn't resist her.
Thanks. Again. My alter-ego and I thank you. And hopefully if they fall, they fall together.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-27 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-27 11:28 pm (UTC)is there an award for "most repostings"?
Date: 2005-09-22 09:54 am (UTC)------
Up here it's hard to hear. The wind is loud.
You can see everything from here. The whole perfect world: buildings, fountains, courtyards, forest. Bright lights in the darkness going out, one by one.
The wind is loud and fierce. But the scrape of it over her skin means she doesn't feel anything else, the concrete under her toes or the knot in her throat, and the dull roar muffles the voice screaming after her.
You can see everything from here except the way out.
Someone's screaming.
"You're running away?"
"I'm sorry," she says, but the wind steals the words. "I'm sorry --"
It comes down to this: there are two ways to make Utena listen, and the first didn't work. It comes down to this: Utena is straying from the path. It comes down to this: there's a trap and it sprung long ago, once upon a time, and you can see everything from here except the way out.
Touga called her a caged bird, but caged birds still have wings. She leans forward and spreads her arms.
But really it's just that falling is
You can see everything
A hand grips her wrist, jerks her back. It's hot and firm and stubborn and Utena's fingers circle Anthy's like a cage. Hold her in place. It comes down to this: there are two forces, one dragging her down and one pulling her up, and it hurts worst being torn between them.
She lets Utena pull her back up, and she doesn't cry until later.
It comes down to this: there's a trap and it sprung long ago.
Re: is there an award for "most repostings"?
Date: 2005-09-22 06:41 pm (UTC)I love the "It comes down to this" repetition. It's kind of a nice poetic lull and it was the first thing I noticed about this, even more than the story which is both chilling and poetic and pretty. I've never seen the canon, so for me a rewrite of Anthy's story is just as good as an original one and even though it's hard to fill in a lot of blanks in a flash fic, you do give us a lot here.
Thank you. Both for playing and for the story.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-23 11:29 am (UTC)BUT NOW...
SUsan bones, three hundredand nitne seven words yesss )it was only four hundredand thirty seven first)
***********************
I heard the news from my parents, but I couldn't cry.
It was as if a silver thread was attached to me and it lifted me up. I floated around the house. I let my mother cook breakfast for all of us. Our cats grouped around me and waited until I jumped from my chair to open the window. I was too used to the low hoot of her owl to notice it wasn't there any more. No more daily notes. No more invitations. No more boxes of chocolate frogs )'and don't forget to send back the Dumbledore cards. I still have a contest going with Mafalda Hopkirk, remember?")
At night, in my room, I talked to the photograph I had. Wherever she was, this picture would smile at me and nod. I hardly slept. I sent my thoughts to the wall, grateful that the image never left its frame while I was here. Sometimes, she even answered back. It was a voice in my right ear, much like the sorting hat had talked to me five years ago.
"Susan dear," she'd say, "wherever we are, we'll find each other. We'll help each other."
I spent the next few weeks looking forward to those nights. I went to bed much earlier and slept late. I packed my trunk wearily that last day and the last thing I laid on top of everything else was the framed image, wrapped in my new scarf.
The silver thread still hadn’t dropped me. It pulled me off the platform and into the train. It made me nod at people I knew, it forced me to smile and shake hands with my friends. Hannah hugged me and I found myself asking her how her birthday had been.
"Susan!" Neville said from one of the carriages. I jumped inside and automatically looked around for his toad. "He'll come back," Neville said. He shuffled his feet and I smiled at him, not able to tell him I thought I knew what he wanted to say.
"How's your plan?" I said and then I had time to hear the infuriating stories about his grandmother until we were at the castle.
The doors swung open and I marched inside.
"Miss Bones?"
Professor sprout. I hardly heard it at first. then she tapped my arm and I stepped aside.
"Susan...I'm sorry."
The silver thread broke. I fell.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:04 pm (UTC)You made me cry.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:50 pm (UTC)wel after this-one..I thin I shoud lstart writing without prompts/otuside prompts again too.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-25 03:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-25 08:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 05:41 am (UTC)Falling.
Isn't that the cliche, in those Disney movies?
The villain falls to their death, out of sight, out of mind, no muss no fuss just have them out of the picture and leave the heroes feeling safe.
But that's never the way it really works, even if you're a Fable and the rules are bent. People feel pain, people die horribly, and the cases where devoted prayer for the return of a kind and generous loved one taken before their time didn't see any result just don't tend to be mentioned.
And the villain can be killed in horrible ways you'd never wish on them, despite their crimes.
Were a fall that effective - Pah! I'd have no worries about Goldilocks, who would be well dead after her highly battered fall.
But that's not the only way to think of the word. Falling in, falling out, falling back.
Falling in love.
Now there's an apt expression. Starting on an unstoppable descent suddenly and without warning. If you don't look down and ignore the lack of solid ground, you might be able to set it out of your mind entirely. Sometimes it's a short fall, and you're abruptly brought back to reality with a painful jolt. Other times, it's a bottomless pit. Without fear of the stop, you enjoy the caress of the wind, relax into the currents, and move as you wish. You feel more alive than you've ever been, learning to move with a degree of control you'd never obtain on solid ground. You fall willingly, and hope never to land again.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 10:02 am (UTC)They always do that.
They plead.
"You're the one?..." they say. "We... we didn't know...! We take it all back!"
"You're not supposed to be here!"
"Please, no, not that, anything but that...!!"
I can't hear them.
Silence is overwhelming.
My fingers grip the staff.
That is when they understand.
It is over.
----------------
The Glaive fell then
----------------
Young Hotaru Tomoe.
Never destined to live.
She was destined to die six years ago. This is meant to be your Silver Millenium, as you thought.
My path does not lie here.
I will go to the invaders' universe.
Always remember.
I am the death and destruction necessary for rebirth.
Always, with death -- comes hope and rebirth.
Do not forget your hope. It lives, and so shall you.
My path... does not lie here.
----------------
The Glaive fell then
----------------
Silence conquers all. To live is to die. What is the meaning of these words?
Who have I come to be?
The Glaive fell (black and smoothed stone pole, white fingers intertwined). It destroyed our civilization.
The Glaive fell (sharpened curved bright edges against the dark of space). It destroyed myself and evil alone.
The Glaive falls now (it sweeps before me, swift clean death to all, no one to tell the difference when they live again).
Who am I?
I am the last, forbidden Sailor Senshi. She who must never be awakened. But I live, and when the Glaive falls, it brings hope.
These days...
(thank you)Sincerely,
Hotaru Tomoe.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 10:33 am (UTC)A falling star blazes a bright trail before diminishing to leave vast, empty darkness.
Two men, one mature, one adolescent, watch its demise. The man inwardly likens it to his life. The boy silently wishes upon it.
‘I’ve tried,’ says the man, more to himself than conversationally, ‘To be too much to too many.’
‘I know the feeling.’
The response whirls the man round. He faces his counterpart. ‘Do you?’
‘I’ve failed all my father’s expectations. I try too hard and fall from his bloody favour each time I speak. Sometimes …’ He stops, anger and hurt evident, sentence unfinished.
‘I see.’ And he does. Although not a father himself, this is the familiar ground of his own past. He shrugs and folds his arms. His well chosen words have deserted him momentarily. His outer aspect is standoffish. Inwardly he sympathises to the point of compassion. But he’d die before show it.
‘Fall from favour,’ he repeats. ‘Let me define a fall, young Draco.’ The voice has lost its bitter edge and is now sad.
‘I had a friend and mentor. He treated me like a son. Over the years I fell in love with the concept of him as a replacement father. Yes, I can say that I loved him as a son would a father. A good father at that. In his quiet way he shaped and redeemed me. I had my second chance.’
On the horizon another star falls from its lofty height, this time unnoticed. Snape outpours, Draco listens to tales of his mother, horcruxes and unbreakable vows in astounded silence. Snape feels a weight fall from his heart and conscience. For a moment he is free of the burden he has chosen to shoulder. Uncharacteristically his eyes are wet as he faces the young man.
‘I formed the words. I watched him tumble over then drop like a stone. I felt like I was responsible for ending the last piece of redemption I could ever have.’ With that confession, he stands, drawing his wand and pointing it at his companion’s forehead.
The boy is terrified.
‘Obliviate!’ he shouts. Draco looks momentarily blank. He drops to the floor in surprise.
‘Dormus!’ he commands and the boy falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Sleep does not come easily for his guardian. Snape watches the sky as another falling star rushes to oblivion.
He wishes upon it.
Wordcount: 400 spot on!
Fandom: Potterverse
Characters: Draco and Snape
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:02 pm (UTC)Way to go, Jane! I didn't know you had it in you. That's actually a very nicely and well-written piece. Thank you for sharing it.