Um, hi. I seem to have committed drabble today. Not making any claims to decency, but thought I'd share.... I don't have the specific photo I'm referring to online, but this is from the same series.
Blondie
She peers out at the lens sideways, behind sunglasses and a shock of bleached-blond hair, dark at the roots. Steel-grey eyeshadow over sky-blue eyes that see all, red lips curled in a cross between “come-hither” and a smirk. The entire attitude is one of knowledge, of freedom, of fearlessness.
She’s only 4 years younger than I am – I was 26 when that picture was taken. So much has happened since – would she recognize me? Would she like me? There’s been a breakup, a marriage, a fall, a divorce, a move.
I’d like to return to her, see that fearlessness again.
I remember that series, j.
I think you may see her in the mirror again.
Wow, I can't believe the creativity being mined by this topic. It's so fun to see just what's going to pop up next. Keep them coming!
This is for Jesse. Cause she started it.
First Things First
There was darkness, and silence. It seemed to last forever, but Father said it would only be three days. He had no sense of time, so He could only wait.
The first light started trickling into… wherever He was. He followed the wall toward the light, pushing until He felt something give. He was tired, and it took much effort, but finally the rock moved.
He knew she’d be there. He knew, even in death, she would not desert Him. There she was, leaning against a tree, eyes still damp with tears. She was startled, unbelieving. And then she smiled.
I think you may see her in the mirror again.
This, Juliana.
All of the drabbles this week have been outstanding! Y'all should be published. Seriously.
Who's That Girl
When I was seven, you teased me ruthlessly for wanting long, curly hair just like yours.
When I was twelve, you found a pair of your shoes hidden in my closet and you called me cruel names.
When I was seventeen, you found my secret wardrobe and locked me out of my own house, threatening to call the police if I didn’t leave the front porch.
Without your help or your love, it took me longer than it should’ve to understand who I was. Who I am.
I’m no longer your sweet little Danny-boy. I go by Danielle now, mother.
Nicole! That fucking ROCKS.
Whooooeeeeeeeeeeee!
Thank you, Deb. No idea where it came from but I enjoyed writing it.
Oh, yeah. Good one, Nicole!
Are you posting that up in the LJ community? I need to point Roz Kaveney at it.
Thanks, Sail!
It's posted over there, Deb.
