I prefer to think of it as enterprising.
Jan. 27th, 2008 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Because I have a cold -- or maybe that's not why -- I feel like doing something creative.
To the first five people who comment: I'll look at your LJ interests list and write you something based on one or more of those interests (my choice). How's that sound?
ETA: All full!
1.
vivien529
2.
silveraspen
3.
lostinapapercup
4.
kit_the_brave
5.
sotto_voice
P.S. If you haven't seen Lost in Translation, you might want to skip the comments.
To the first five people who comment: I'll look at your LJ interests list and write you something based on one or more of those interests (my choice). How's that sound?
ETA: All full!
1.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
2.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
3.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
4.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
5.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
P.S. If you haven't seen Lost in Translation, you might want to skip the comments.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-28 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-31 10:24 pm (UTC)"There, there, my darling boy. Let me do it for you." Carefully, with more kindness and gentle attention than she'd shown to anyone else in a long time, she daubed at the corners of his eyes. "You've been asleep for a long time. But the sun is out now and it's a beautiful day. As soon as you're so inclined, I'll take you out to the meadow. The sun is warm and lovely."
"Okay." He only had the vaguest memories of having fallen asleep the night before, and all his dreams had been disturbing and violent. "I think I had my nightmares again last night."
For a six-year-old, he was rather astute. He even noticed the way his mother's eyes filled with tears and that she blinked them away, although he didn't really understand why his dreams made her cry, and so he reached out and patted her hand. "Mum, mum, it's okay. They're just dreams, and you and Dad have always told me bad dreams don't come real. They go away."
At that, the woman stifled a quick sob and for her son's sake, had to pretend it was nothing more than an everyday hiccup. "Oh! Excuse me." She giggled then, as if it was a secret only the two of them could share. Forcing a smile, she smoothed back the hair on her son's forehead. "It must have been the sugar I put in the tea. Would you like a cup?"
"All right. Mum, was I sick again last night?"
"Yes, darling. But the fever's broken now." Helping him to sit up, she fluffed the pillows she'd borrowed from her own bed and set them behind her son's back. "You'll be feeling better in no time. Now for that tea."
There were no house-elves in this home and even if there were, she and her husband would have dismissed them five months ago when the unthinkable happened to their precious and only son. Since then, the two of them had been at odds: tell him or not? For the moment they'd grudgingly decided on telling their boy that he'd been sick. It only happened once monthly and he was so young and would he even understand that this was not a limited event but rather a lifetime affliction and one he would simply have to learn to live with? She couldn't bear the thought of her only son -- her darling Remus -- as a social outcast simply because he'd had the misfortune of having been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was an accident, not cause for registration, for being poked and prodded like some... experiment. No, when he was older, it would be time to tell him exactly what had happened when the "dog" bit him.
For now, she simply couldn't bear it. And so she brought Remus his tea, sweetened with two cubes of sugar and laden with heavy cream, just as he preferred. Personally, she thought he deserved every last bit of goodness she could squeeze out of the world for him. A mother's prerogative: take away the pain for her child.
Would that she had received the bite that night months ago instead of him. But fate hadn't been quite that kind and again, her eyes filled with tears as she stood over the pot of tea. They'd have to tell him the truth soon enough, but for now, let him labor under the illusion of an everyday illness.
It was better than the alternative.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 02:27 pm (UTC)Thank you for writing it!
*spinhugs*
no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 08:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 02:41 pm (UTC)*chokes slightly* sorry. *gulp*. Man thsi was real.wow!
no subject
Date: 2008-02-02 08:03 pm (UTC)