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kristoriesSo I signed up for a writing challenge, with the intention that it would maybe get me out of my funk. For a very long time now I've been just reading things on my phone and not using an actual computer. That lends itself to not writing because, well, I don't really like writing on my phone, the keyboard is small, the spelling errors are many.
I felt like maybe I bit off more than I can chew, because I couldn't come up with an idea that worked. I couldn't figure out what I wanted to accomplish and then looking at the word count and I felt like it was insurmountable.
I'm doing better now, I figured out an idea I want to work with, I've written 2,197 words. I know that's not amazing sounding when considering the 50,000 word count minimum but we all have to start somewhere.
Anyway, I randomly came up with a Passengers fic. Because Passengers pissed me off. It doesn't fit with anything I want to do, and I'm not sure it will go anywhere so I'm throwing it up here for the fun of it, also so I can get it off my google drive and I can stop looking at it.
The bolt sinks into her arm and she gasps in pain.
“What was that? Are you okay?” Jim demands. The pain isn’t a consuming as the terror when the protective glass finally blows. She doesn’t even have time to scream.
***
She gasps awake and screams startled when Jim’s face is suddenly above hers.
“What is it? Are you okay?” he asks and she had no idea how they got here. Back in the room she moved out of months ago with the sunny forest scene on the window. She has absolutely no way to explain away the terror and the dry heaving she does into the wastebasket. She clutches the smooth metal sides and heaves again when his hand lands heavy and comforting on her shoulder.
“Aurora?” she shudders and pulls away.
“Just a bad dream” she says a little punch drunk with relief. Was it all a dream.
“Yeah, I’ve had a few of those,” Jim smiles at her, charming and open. “You want to talk about it?” he asks. The masochist in her, full of foreboding, is what makes her do it.
“I dreamed that you woke me up on purpose,” she tells him. “I dreamed you murdered me.” Guilt chases across his face. He’s startled and his eyes are wide. “Oh, it wasn’t a dream, was it?”
“Aurora..”
“Fuck you, Jim” she says and punches him in the eye. She leaves him lying there on the floor of the cabin and goes into the room across the hall where she sits in the shower and cries.
Jim still makes a grand declaration of love. Jim still plants a tree in the atrium. Gus still dies. Jim still goes to hold open the door. The bolt still burns when it buries into her arm and the handle burns when she pulls down on it but she’s too slow. The protective glass shatters.
***
She gasps awake and screams when Jim’s face is suddenly above hers.
“What is it, are you okay?”
I felt like maybe I bit off more than I can chew, because I couldn't come up with an idea that worked. I couldn't figure out what I wanted to accomplish and then looking at the word count and I felt like it was insurmountable.
I'm doing better now, I figured out an idea I want to work with, I've written 2,197 words. I know that's not amazing sounding when considering the 50,000 word count minimum but we all have to start somewhere.
Anyway, I randomly came up with a Passengers fic. Because Passengers pissed me off. It doesn't fit with anything I want to do, and I'm not sure it will go anywhere so I'm throwing it up here for the fun of it, also so I can get it off my google drive and I can stop looking at it.
The bolt sinks into her arm and she gasps in pain.
“What was that? Are you okay?” Jim demands. The pain isn’t a consuming as the terror when the protective glass finally blows. She doesn’t even have time to scream.
***
She gasps awake and screams startled when Jim’s face is suddenly above hers.
“What is it? Are you okay?” he asks and she had no idea how they got here. Back in the room she moved out of months ago with the sunny forest scene on the window. She has absolutely no way to explain away the terror and the dry heaving she does into the wastebasket. She clutches the smooth metal sides and heaves again when his hand lands heavy and comforting on her shoulder.
“Aurora?” she shudders and pulls away.
“Just a bad dream” she says a little punch drunk with relief. Was it all a dream.
“Yeah, I’ve had a few of those,” Jim smiles at her, charming and open. “You want to talk about it?” he asks. The masochist in her, full of foreboding, is what makes her do it.
“I dreamed that you woke me up on purpose,” she tells him. “I dreamed you murdered me.” Guilt chases across his face. He’s startled and his eyes are wide. “Oh, it wasn’t a dream, was it?”
“Aurora..”
“Fuck you, Jim” she says and punches him in the eye. She leaves him lying there on the floor of the cabin and goes into the room across the hall where she sits in the shower and cries.
Jim still makes a grand declaration of love. Jim still plants a tree in the atrium. Gus still dies. Jim still goes to hold open the door. The bolt still burns when it buries into her arm and the handle burns when she pulls down on it but she’s too slow. The protective glass shatters.
***
She gasps awake and screams when Jim’s face is suddenly above hers.
“What is it, are you okay?”
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Date: 2019-01-26 06:09 am (UTC)