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Drabbles 6, 7 and 8
Three more drabbles for the Drabble Tree challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse
He had held her so close, as if she was the most precious thing on earth, as if she was as fragile as air and would slip through his fingers should he look away for just one moment. She would break his embrace and fly free from their folly.
The island that brought them together kept them at war. His superior officers liked to call it a model occupation but would quietly send any men who became too enchanted by the local women back to the front lines. When their paths diverged, he only hoped it would be her choice.
---
He imagined their love in another time. When reading a poem or story in English, he would weave himself into the narrative to be beside her.
In the golden noon or by ghostly moonlight they stole away together. He saw her as the Lady of Shallot, trapped inside her cursed tower. His intangible image swam through her magic mirror.
So he sat, and he waited, and he watched the shadows on his wall as they danced scenes he could never partake in. There will come a time, he thought, we will have to admit we are both half-sick of shadows.
---
Half-drunk mugs of tea that I don't remember making litter the surfaces of every room I move through day by day. Escaped paper carpets the floorboards that, when they were bare, always gave my feet splinters.
My freezing fingers wrap themselves about the red hot mug of fresh tea. The steam envelops me. It is unbelievably warm and so comforting to feel on my face when minutes before I was fighting through the icy sting of rain and sudden unexpected hailstones.
"Who was it this time?" Simon's disappointed voice slices through my reverie. "Who did you spend the night with?"
writerverseHe had held her so close, as if she was the most precious thing on earth, as if she was as fragile as air and would slip through his fingers should he look away for just one moment. She would break his embrace and fly free from their folly.
The island that brought them together kept them at war. His superior officers liked to call it a model occupation but would quietly send any men who became too enchanted by the local women back to the front lines. When their paths diverged, he only hoped it would be her choice.
---
He imagined their love in another time. When reading a poem or story in English, he would weave himself into the narrative to be beside her.
In the golden noon or by ghostly moonlight they stole away together. He saw her as the Lady of Shallot, trapped inside her cursed tower. His intangible image swam through her magic mirror.
So he sat, and he waited, and he watched the shadows on his wall as they danced scenes he could never partake in. There will come a time, he thought, we will have to admit we are both half-sick of shadows.
---
Half-drunk mugs of tea that I don't remember making litter the surfaces of every room I move through day by day. Escaped paper carpets the floorboards that, when they were bare, always gave my feet splinters.
My freezing fingers wrap themselves about the red hot mug of fresh tea. The steam envelops me. It is unbelievably warm and so comforting to feel on my face when minutes before I was fighting through the icy sting of rain and sudden unexpected hailstones.
"Who was it this time?" Simon's disappointed voice slices through my reverie. "Who did you spend the night with?"
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<3
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I love it when my writing ties together without me deliberately trying to make it that way. And with the last lines - that's the thing about drabbles - every line and every word is important and the last line especially. When I'm not in writing mode, I'm often mystified as to where it all comes from. :-)
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