DeWolfe Apts., on the Feast of St. Maximilian
It's odd but every conversation I've had today felt vaguely surreal as if I was speaking into a microphone. Ran into classmate on elevator while coming up from laundry and managed small talk. As I left the elevator, I realized that my face hadn't changed expression once during the entire conversation. Er...
I wrote Anne of Green Gables fanfiction for today's theme. L.M. Montgomery is rolling in her grave as we speak. This fic is...completely not in sync with the style of the books. But I am shameless and posting it anyway.
Wait
Dedicated to
lazulisong, who loves these books even more than I do
His mind, it seems, is no longer his own, whirling around and around in circles until his head feels as if it's shattering into pieces. Day and night, he drifts in and out of dreams--/arma virumque cano/--the sweet ripe smell of strawberry apples--moss on a gravestone in the cemetery at Redmond--
But mostly /her/, he dreams of: the line of a long red braid down the back of a new gingham dress, the whiteness of her wrist against her flushed cheek, her eyes furious and ashamed when he rowed her back to shore, a circlet of mayflowers tangled in her hair, the worn covers of the books they lent and borrowed, her mouth opening to say "No, I can't. I never, never can love you in that way, Gilbert."
In a rare moment of lucidity, he asks in a hoarse whisper, "Am I going to die?"
His mother, pressing a cool towel to his hot, dry forehead, pauses to quietly wipe away tears--he does not see because his eyes are closed; his eyelids weigh like stone--and answers in a choked voice, "Of course not, Gilbert, you're going to get better. You'll see."
He thinks of the word "death", and it repeats over and over in his mind; such a curiously short syllable, echoing with finality. He is in no condition to understand--he can only comprehend the "never" in regret, oh the regret, that he had not seen her once more.
"Anne," he says, delirious. "Anne--"
He can almost see her, pale as a ghost, face against the window, eyes large and gray and full of tears. She opens her mouth. "Wait," she seems to say. "Wait, please wait."
He is too tired to move but he nods his head. That night, the fever breaks.
END
Well, it's not all depressing? I think. >_>
Yours &c.
It's odd but every conversation I've had today felt vaguely surreal as if I was speaking into a microphone. Ran into classmate on elevator while coming up from laundry and managed small talk. As I left the elevator, I realized that my face hadn't changed expression once during the entire conversation. Er...
I wrote Anne of Green Gables fanfiction for today's theme. L.M. Montgomery is rolling in her grave as we speak. This fic is...completely not in sync with the style of the books. But I am shameless and posting it anyway.
Wait
Dedicated to
His mind, it seems, is no longer his own, whirling around and around in circles until his head feels as if it's shattering into pieces. Day and night, he drifts in and out of dreams--/arma virumque cano/--the sweet ripe smell of strawberry apples--moss on a gravestone in the cemetery at Redmond--
But mostly /her/, he dreams of: the line of a long red braid down the back of a new gingham dress, the whiteness of her wrist against her flushed cheek, her eyes furious and ashamed when he rowed her back to shore, a circlet of mayflowers tangled in her hair, the worn covers of the books they lent and borrowed, her mouth opening to say "No, I can't. I never, never can love you in that way, Gilbert."
In a rare moment of lucidity, he asks in a hoarse whisper, "Am I going to die?"
His mother, pressing a cool towel to his hot, dry forehead, pauses to quietly wipe away tears--he does not see because his eyes are closed; his eyelids weigh like stone--and answers in a choked voice, "Of course not, Gilbert, you're going to get better. You'll see."
He thinks of the word "death", and it repeats over and over in his mind; such a curiously short syllable, echoing with finality. He is in no condition to understand--he can only comprehend the "never" in regret, oh the regret, that he had not seen her once more.
"Anne," he says, delirious. "Anne--"
He can almost see her, pale as a ghost, face against the window, eyes large and gray and full of tears. She opens her mouth. "Wait," she seems to say. "Wait, please wait."
He is too tired to move but he nods his head. That night, the fever breaks.
END
Well, it's not all depressing? I think. >_>
Yours &c.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 03:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 03:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 03:19 am (UTC)It wasn't depressing. Remus going insane or Severus losing his limbs is depressing. This...is actually quite hopeful.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 03:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 03:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 03:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 03:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 05:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 05:45 am (UTC)I love you so much.
this is not the person who's thinking 'hahahaha WALTER IN THE TRENCHES >3' for 'Alahambra' oh no.(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 03:58 am (UTC)And Walter-in-the-trench fic? Doooo it.Walter's my favorite character actually, after Anne and Gilbert (of course).
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 03:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 07:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 01:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-15 04:12 pm (UTC)EEE YOU ARE WONDERFUL (and, obviously, so is this.)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 12:15 am (UTC)in short, squee. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 12:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 04:56 pm (UTC)I <3 Anne of Green Gables. But I had hated it for the LONGEST time and I don't know why O_O! I'm hungry.
True, it doesn't fit the usual tone of the books, which is strange, considering how you wrote your postboxes like it... oO;; What are we dabbling into? OO;;
I'm hungggryyy... Oh, and the last line seems kind of anticlimax-ic.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 06:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 07:35 pm (UTC)Oooh, so I was right the first time.
And iono -- about that last line, I feel like you just don't need it...=/ Meh
And I did hate Anne of Green Gables and vowed never to read it, until I picked it up again one day and was like, this is good. Why didn't I like it before?
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 07:43 pm (UTC)Why didn't you like it before? ;_; But at least you saw the error of your ways in time. ^________^
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 07:53 pm (UTC)Iono why I didn't like it before, but yes, I have seen the error of my ways.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 08:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 05:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-16 06:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-26 05:48 pm (UTC)In short: thank you!