Second drabble, same theme (creation).
Trauma
There is a dark place where there should be none.
It sits, a microscopic nodule of quiescence atop a healthy-looking bit of tissue. A picture taken of it would show a pinpoint of uncertainty, a shadowy patch that only an eye trained in the mysteries of such things might read. It doesn't seem enough to cause the sudden searing headaches; certainly it's too small to kill.
And yet, without movement and without growth, it can do both things.
Joyce, not knowing what else had come into being when her second daughter was made, winces and sways, and reaches for aspirin.
Wow, that's powerful, Deb. I thought the same thing when I saw my mother's breast films. That it was a really tiny spot.
Having recently had the experience of lying there and watching the sonogram or whatever it's called of the breast mass? And having been there with cervical?
I know the feeling. Sorry if I raised anything too bad in the memories department, though. It's just that I have certain deep sympathies with Joyce.
No, not at all...it's been a few years now. Well, two. next month.
erika, e me with your snailmail addy, OK? I have something to send you.
(joining erika and deb in the "It's so tiny. How the fuck --" corner)
It looked like a bruise on an apple. I remembered that because I was a picky kid and hated to eat fruit with bruises on it, drove mom crazy. And I've often wondered that about about my own brain...it's probably not that big, either...the spot getting me all the kickass parking spaces. And thank you for not thinking I'm fucked up for looking...people irl thought that was gross of me.ETA: Deb, insent.
erika, got it, babe. (Actually, I already had it, but nice to confirm.)
I get to do the "that little thing is fucking me up?" all over again shortly (assuming they get this $%%#@^% insurance stuff straightened out PDQ); little white flecks this time, the ms lesions.
Turns out some of the really tiny ones? Really are there just because I'm pushing the half-century mark. Not the big clusters, though.
More fic...Vamp!Munch POV
I knew something was up when she wouldn't kiss me that night. I never thought I'd be into that, but, somehow, one touch of her chilly lips...and my life, or my unlife, wasn't my own. I tried to nuzzle her, but she pulled away...the only thing that surprised me was how quickly it happened, and without the fighting and volcanic make-up sex. Which seemed like kind of a rip-off, if you want to know the truth. "The restaurant is closed...it's time to learn to hunt."
Words every uncoordinated Jewish boy lives for. "Couldn't I just talk them to death? You know I'm good...with my mouth."
"Don't distract me. Now, around here, you have two choices tonight...a gas station attendant, and..."
"The other one," I said. "I'm not about to feed off some poor working stiff, you should pardon the expression, who's already getting chewed up by the monster of Capitalism...it's just not right. Being a vampire won't make me abandon my principles. You'll just have to deal with it, babe."
There were times when this didn't live up to my fantasy. And I halfway expected to be behind a desk in the City of the Broken-Hearted next Monday...wonder if Gee would tint the windows.
Go Munch, with the workingman Vamp!hero thing!
I want to know who the other choice was - tell me it was Larry Ellison or Bill Gates?
