Nostalgia: Voting
Thank you for all the great entries! After reading every story, vote for your favorite 3, in order, in a comment to this post. Make sure you vote with numbers not names.
1.Title: Olava
Word Count: 299
Fandom: Glorantha.
Note: this is a prequel to a story I wrote some time ago, though it should stand alone.
There was a murmur in her ear. “Be ready, tonight. Someone in the Resistance recognized your name.” The door clanged shut, leaving her with a last meal she was no longer interested in, and the hope she had almost forgotten how to feel. Someone...
So she did remember. Olava barely did herself. The pictures came back, hazy at first.
The eager, impulsive sixteen year-old she had taught. So many of them died in their first battle. This one, she'd saved, just: from the battlefield, but not from herself. Half-healed, full of hate and the need for revenge, she'd gone back as soon as she could hold a sword, and this time there had been no-one to drag her to safety.
Then later, the same girl at eighteen. Retraining her, trying to recover the shattered confidence. The casual, childish assumption of her own invulnerability had been lost: this time, they built on a bed-rock of stubborn courage that refused to give in to her own weakness or anything else. And then she had gone on. She wasn’t in the Resistance, now. She led it.
And Olava had retired, back to her kin, and to a man who loved her. She had not thought of any of her pupils for a decade or more, and was a little surprised to find that any of them remembered her. Her hair was grey now, not red, but you never really forgot that you had been a warrior. That was why, older and slower than she had allowed for, she was locked up and awaiting execution. It had been stupid, as stupid as that girl going back to attack an impossible foe. But how could she have left the pendant he had made for her as a token of his love in enemy hands?
-----
2.Title: Sweet Torture
Word Count: 300
Original Fiction
It all seems so far away now. Like it happened decades ago. But it’s really only been a year. One long year. It figures that right when I thought I was over her I had to see her again.
Melanie and I had a very complicated relationship. We couldn’t tell anyone about us for the fear of what they would think. The only time we had together was the time when no one was looking. I only felt her lips touch mine once every few weeks, when we were able to find a place that no one else knew about. Those sweet moments turned into torture.
I wanted to be able to love her in front of everyone, not behind their backs. So I did the only thing I could do. I confessed that I was in love with a girl and I didn’t care what anyone thought. The only problem was, Mel cared. She denied it all and ran away with her ex-boyfriend.
That was a year ago today. For awhile after she was gone, I was depressed. All I could do was think about everything we’d shared and wish to have it back someday. But then I finally forced myself to try to be happy without Mel. I found someone new, and I was able to be with her whenever I wanted.
Now Mel was standing in front of me, telling me all about how she finally told her parents and friends, and that she was coming back to me. I remembered those nights in my room when I wanted to have what I used to have. I wanted to throw my arms around her and kiss her forehead, her neck, her collarbone. I wanted us to be us again.
And it broke my heart to say no.
-----
3.Title: Maybe not
Word Count: 167
Fandom: "original fiction"
There had been fields here when he was a child. He and his brothers had run down the lane - grassy then, no tarmac or concrete - pushed through the hedgerows into the fields beyond. Ancient hawthorn, shady oaks, sheep to chase or to be ignored by, unknowing Indians to their cowboys. Point your fingers - bang! You know the Indian’s dead, even if the sheep keeps grazing.
There had been butterflies, in the summer. Elusive, flittering, jewel-like, nearly as fragile in their hands once caught as the bubbles they had blown from their mother’s soapy water. Long lazy sunny days of childhood - innocence.
He pushed a lever sideways, and the camera far above the bunker in which he sat twisted to show the landscape to the east - more dust, blowing across more devastated land, jagged shards of broken concrete and steel standing out like frozen lightning against the glowing sky, hurled to impossible positions by the shockwave of the last retaliatory bomb.
Maybe he shouldn’t have pressed that button.
-----
4.Title: A sleepless night
Word Count: 290
Fandom: original fiction
A sleepless night
She wasn’t really sleeping, he was sure of it. The sound of her breath was heavier when she was asleep and she occasionally used to snore too. Not a loud, aggressive snore like his own, but a soft and rather sweet one, much like the purring of a cat.
They’ve known each other for years. His mum was friends with hers. They played together when they were little, he was fooling about with his toy cars and she with her dolls. It often occurred that he ran one of his cars against one of her dolls and shouted: "She’s dead! Now she should be buried!" and the two then buried the doll in the sandbox.
They ignored each other at school. It was very uncool for a boy to be friends with a girl. You had to be careful those days, others might suspect you liked her in that way.
When they were fifteen, the inevitable happened: they started dating. They were the only couple that lasted for more than three months. Seven years later, they were still an item and had just hired an apartment together. He was a working class mechanic now and she was studying to become a doctor.
Though it felt like they had slowly grown apart. She’s probably secretly seeing someone else. Someone much smarter than him and more interested in the things she likes. Maybe it’s that one professor she always praises so much, who knows.
But after all those memories, it would be a shame to let it go.
They say that opposites attract but that is no guarantee that it will last.
She couldn’t sleep.
The feeling of guilt haunted her.
Why didn’t she love him as much as she did before?
-----
5.Title: The Clean-Up
Word Count: 153
Fandom: Original Fiction
The girl in the photo was smiling. Sunshine streamed down on her blonde hair where it had been gathered in two bunches - there was a wide gap in her smile where she'd just lost her two front teeth the day beforehand, after weeks and weeks of constantly wiggling them.
Her mother stood beside her with an arm around the eight-year-old's shoulders, her hair still in curlers and a sleepy smile on her face.
In a dusty room, the grown-up girl brushed a finger over the photograph as if trying to delve inside it. Around her, her late mother's belongings were packed into cardboard boxes, ready to be moved out of this stuffy little retirement home.
She stared at the photo with a dull ache in her heart. "Oh, momma," she whispered, almost silently. She could remember being that little girl, living that simple life - it seemed like so long ago. "I miss you."
-----
6.Title: Temps Perdu
Word Count: Allegedly 294
Fandom: "Original fiction"
Author: Scriptator
In other circumstances, it would have been something to laugh about, to be proud of, that he’d been able to find the place again.
It must have been thirty years since he’d been there - and he was suddenly aware of the passage of time :: the steps that once he would have gone up quickly and effortlessly, were now a barrier to be overcome.
And the view wasn’t what it had been - the tree-strewn vista of former days was now far less arboreal, and far more dotted with stands of “country cottages” - suburban bungalows transplanted into the former forest.
There were still birds, calling in the foliage, and he could still (just), through the cleft in the hills of the west, make out the shoreline, above Shorecombe Harbour. Hopefully the public footpath would still exist, that would let him walk to and along the little stream (the “river”, as the locals had called it, in his youth) which led down to the low cliffs.
But Elonie was gone, and Guy, and Tasia. Legionnaires’, the terrorist attack which had devastated the City, and a broken heart had reft them from him. In each case, he’d “dodged the bullet”, but he had to ask himself whether it had been worth it. He still had his other friends, but the Immortal Four of so many summers were now merely a Solitary One.
Tears welling up, he turned away, and walked back down the steps of the ruined tower keep. At the bottom, the custodian stood, keys ready.
“Done, sir ?”
He nodded, uncertain of his voice. Then it occurred to him, and he halfway smiled (as the man relocked the gate across the doorway): whatever else, they still lived in his memories - no-one could take those away.
-----
7.Title: “Change”
Word Count: 294
Fandom: Original Fiction
She lies in her bed, remembering a time when life was so simple, so carefree; a time when she felt most alive. The soft fleece of the blanket she grasps up past her shoulders tickles the tip of her nose. She sinks deep into her mattress, relaxed, but wide awake. For anything she’d dream of is already in the back of her mind; her dreams are her memories, so far away that she’s afraid if she doesn’t think of them often enough, they may slip away forever.
She closes her eyes. She can still see his face, the way his hair fell thick but soft over his forehead, the way he walked, and the smile on his face that always made her feel as though her feet were lifting off the ground.
She remembers the way their skin used to melt together when they held each other close, and she remembers the way his breath felt on her neck, warm and moist.
She presses her eyes shut so tight that the tears are forced to drip down, cooling her ears. But she continues to think of him, the way they would laugh together, the safety she felt. The way they would look into each other’s eyes and knew that no matter what, they could accomplish anything together; they were unstoppable; they were invincible; they were forever.
But forever came too soon.
She misses his voice, his courage, his talent. She even misses his anger. But she doesn’t miss the sight of him walking away. She doesn’t miss his silence. Or the way he misplaced his love.
Every night she wonders, if maybe deep down, the person he has become misses the person he once was, when it was the two of them, together forever.
1.Title: Olava
Word Count: 299
Fandom: Glorantha.
Note: this is a prequel to a story I wrote some time ago, though it should stand alone.
There was a murmur in her ear. “Be ready, tonight. Someone in the Resistance recognized your name.” The door clanged shut, leaving her with a last meal she was no longer interested in, and the hope she had almost forgotten how to feel. Someone...
So she did remember. Olava barely did herself. The pictures came back, hazy at first.
The eager, impulsive sixteen year-old she had taught. So many of them died in their first battle. This one, she'd saved, just: from the battlefield, but not from herself. Half-healed, full of hate and the need for revenge, she'd gone back as soon as she could hold a sword, and this time there had been no-one to drag her to safety.
Then later, the same girl at eighteen. Retraining her, trying to recover the shattered confidence. The casual, childish assumption of her own invulnerability had been lost: this time, they built on a bed-rock of stubborn courage that refused to give in to her own weakness or anything else. And then she had gone on. She wasn’t in the Resistance, now. She led it.
And Olava had retired, back to her kin, and to a man who loved her. She had not thought of any of her pupils for a decade or more, and was a little surprised to find that any of them remembered her. Her hair was grey now, not red, but you never really forgot that you had been a warrior. That was why, older and slower than she had allowed for, she was locked up and awaiting execution. It had been stupid, as stupid as that girl going back to attack an impossible foe. But how could she have left the pendant he had made for her as a token of his love in enemy hands?
-----
2.Title: Sweet Torture
Word Count: 300
Original Fiction
It all seems so far away now. Like it happened decades ago. But it’s really only been a year. One long year. It figures that right when I thought I was over her I had to see her again.
Melanie and I had a very complicated relationship. We couldn’t tell anyone about us for the fear of what they would think. The only time we had together was the time when no one was looking. I only felt her lips touch mine once every few weeks, when we were able to find a place that no one else knew about. Those sweet moments turned into torture.
I wanted to be able to love her in front of everyone, not behind their backs. So I did the only thing I could do. I confessed that I was in love with a girl and I didn’t care what anyone thought. The only problem was, Mel cared. She denied it all and ran away with her ex-boyfriend.
That was a year ago today. For awhile after she was gone, I was depressed. All I could do was think about everything we’d shared and wish to have it back someday. But then I finally forced myself to try to be happy without Mel. I found someone new, and I was able to be with her whenever I wanted.
Now Mel was standing in front of me, telling me all about how she finally told her parents and friends, and that she was coming back to me. I remembered those nights in my room when I wanted to have what I used to have. I wanted to throw my arms around her and kiss her forehead, her neck, her collarbone. I wanted us to be us again.
And it broke my heart to say no.
-----
3.Title: Maybe not
Word Count: 167
Fandom: "original fiction"
There had been fields here when he was a child. He and his brothers had run down the lane - grassy then, no tarmac or concrete - pushed through the hedgerows into the fields beyond. Ancient hawthorn, shady oaks, sheep to chase or to be ignored by, unknowing Indians to their cowboys. Point your fingers - bang! You know the Indian’s dead, even if the sheep keeps grazing.
There had been butterflies, in the summer. Elusive, flittering, jewel-like, nearly as fragile in their hands once caught as the bubbles they had blown from their mother’s soapy water. Long lazy sunny days of childhood - innocence.
He pushed a lever sideways, and the camera far above the bunker in which he sat twisted to show the landscape to the east - more dust, blowing across more devastated land, jagged shards of broken concrete and steel standing out like frozen lightning against the glowing sky, hurled to impossible positions by the shockwave of the last retaliatory bomb.
Maybe he shouldn’t have pressed that button.
-----
4.Title: A sleepless night
Word Count: 290
Fandom: original fiction
A sleepless night
She wasn’t really sleeping, he was sure of it. The sound of her breath was heavier when she was asleep and she occasionally used to snore too. Not a loud, aggressive snore like his own, but a soft and rather sweet one, much like the purring of a cat.
They’ve known each other for years. His mum was friends with hers. They played together when they were little, he was fooling about with his toy cars and she with her dolls. It often occurred that he ran one of his cars against one of her dolls and shouted: "She’s dead! Now she should be buried!" and the two then buried the doll in the sandbox.
They ignored each other at school. It was very uncool for a boy to be friends with a girl. You had to be careful those days, others might suspect you liked her in that way.
When they were fifteen, the inevitable happened: they started dating. They were the only couple that lasted for more than three months. Seven years later, they were still an item and had just hired an apartment together. He was a working class mechanic now and she was studying to become a doctor.
Though it felt like they had slowly grown apart. She’s probably secretly seeing someone else. Someone much smarter than him and more interested in the things she likes. Maybe it’s that one professor she always praises so much, who knows.
But after all those memories, it would be a shame to let it go.
They say that opposites attract but that is no guarantee that it will last.
She couldn’t sleep.
The feeling of guilt haunted her.
Why didn’t she love him as much as she did before?
-----
5.Title: The Clean-Up
Word Count: 153
Fandom: Original Fiction
The girl in the photo was smiling. Sunshine streamed down on her blonde hair where it had been gathered in two bunches - there was a wide gap in her smile where she'd just lost her two front teeth the day beforehand, after weeks and weeks of constantly wiggling them.
Her mother stood beside her with an arm around the eight-year-old's shoulders, her hair still in curlers and a sleepy smile on her face.
In a dusty room, the grown-up girl brushed a finger over the photograph as if trying to delve inside it. Around her, her late mother's belongings were packed into cardboard boxes, ready to be moved out of this stuffy little retirement home.
She stared at the photo with a dull ache in her heart. "Oh, momma," she whispered, almost silently. She could remember being that little girl, living that simple life - it seemed like so long ago. "I miss you."
-----
6.Title: Temps Perdu
Word Count: Allegedly 294
Fandom: "Original fiction"
Author: Scriptator
In other circumstances, it would have been something to laugh about, to be proud of, that he’d been able to find the place again.
It must have been thirty years since he’d been there - and he was suddenly aware of the passage of time :: the steps that once he would have gone up quickly and effortlessly, were now a barrier to be overcome.
And the view wasn’t what it had been - the tree-strewn vista of former days was now far less arboreal, and far more dotted with stands of “country cottages” - suburban bungalows transplanted into the former forest.
There were still birds, calling in the foliage, and he could still (just), through the cleft in the hills of the west, make out the shoreline, above Shorecombe Harbour. Hopefully the public footpath would still exist, that would let him walk to and along the little stream (the “river”, as the locals had called it, in his youth) which led down to the low cliffs.
But Elonie was gone, and Guy, and Tasia. Legionnaires’, the terrorist attack which had devastated the City, and a broken heart had reft them from him. In each case, he’d “dodged the bullet”, but he had to ask himself whether it had been worth it. He still had his other friends, but the Immortal Four of so many summers were now merely a Solitary One.
Tears welling up, he turned away, and walked back down the steps of the ruined tower keep. At the bottom, the custodian stood, keys ready.
“Done, sir ?”
He nodded, uncertain of his voice. Then it occurred to him, and he halfway smiled (as the man relocked the gate across the doorway): whatever else, they still lived in his memories - no-one could take those away.
-----
7.Title: “Change”
Word Count: 294
Fandom: Original Fiction
She lies in her bed, remembering a time when life was so simple, so carefree; a time when she felt most alive. The soft fleece of the blanket she grasps up past her shoulders tickles the tip of her nose. She sinks deep into her mattress, relaxed, but wide awake. For anything she’d dream of is already in the back of her mind; her dreams are her memories, so far away that she’s afraid if she doesn’t think of them often enough, they may slip away forever.
She closes her eyes. She can still see his face, the way his hair fell thick but soft over his forehead, the way he walked, and the smile on his face that always made her feel as though her feet were lifting off the ground.
She remembers the way their skin used to melt together when they held each other close, and she remembers the way his breath felt on her neck, warm and moist.
She presses her eyes shut so tight that the tears are forced to drip down, cooling her ears. But she continues to think of him, the way they would laugh together, the safety she felt. The way they would look into each other’s eyes and knew that no matter what, they could accomplish anything together; they were unstoppable; they were invincible; they were forever.
But forever came too soon.
She misses his voice, his courage, his talent. She even misses his anger. But she doesn’t miss the sight of him walking away. She doesn’t miss his silence. Or the way he misplaced his love.
Every night she wonders, if maybe deep down, the person he has become misses the person he once was, when it was the two of them, together forever.