Garlic #2, Gingerbread #24, Vanilla #30 w/ Cherry, Pineapple, and Malt - April Showers
Author: askingxalice
Title: April Showers
Summary: Angie in a manic phase.
Story: Phase
Timeline: April 2008 - Angie is 21.
Challenge: Garlic #2 (under a ladder - someone is afraid of heights), Gingerbread #24 (magic lamp), Vanilla #30 (cloud/star-gazing)
Toppings/Extras: Cherry (Present tense), Pineapple (The tide is high, but I’m holding on), Malt (Angie : storm coming in from the sea)
Word Count: 169
Rating: PG-13
One foot in front of the other, she dances with the edge of the bridge, the concrete under her feet slick in the rain. She thinks she might be somewhere in New Orleans, or maybe Baton Rouge, but it isn’t as important as this. Her legs and arms feel shaky, her drunkenness is wearing into a buzz, and she can’t remember the last time she slept. That isn’t important either. Turning, her foot slips, and there’s a pause-
Her body jerks forward.
The river below almost seems welcoming.
For a moment, she thinks about falling.
-and her hand reaches back at the last moment to grab onto a light post, slicker than the concrete below her feet, but her grip holds. Hysterical laughter bubbles from her throat and it morphs into a triumphant scream that rages at the clouds above, daring God to try and defeat her while knowing he can’t. Her father couldn’t break her then, and this bridge can’t beat her now, and she is fucking invincible.
Title: April Showers
Summary: Angie in a manic phase.
Story: Phase
Timeline: April 2008 - Angie is 21.
Challenge: Garlic #2 (under a ladder - someone is afraid of heights), Gingerbread #24 (magic lamp), Vanilla #30 (cloud/star-gazing)
Toppings/Extras: Cherry (Present tense), Pineapple (The tide is high, but I’m holding on), Malt (Angie : storm coming in from the sea)
Word Count: 169
Rating: PG-13
One foot in front of the other, she dances with the edge of the bridge, the concrete under her feet slick in the rain. She thinks she might be somewhere in New Orleans, or maybe Baton Rouge, but it isn’t as important as this. Her legs and arms feel shaky, her drunkenness is wearing into a buzz, and she can’t remember the last time she slept. That isn’t important either. Turning, her foot slips, and there’s a pause-
Her body jerks forward.
The river below almost seems welcoming.
For a moment, she thinks about falling.
-and her hand reaches back at the last moment to grab onto a light post, slicker than the concrete below her feet, but her grip holds. Hysterical laughter bubbles from her throat and it morphs into a triumphant scream that rages at the clouds above, daring God to try and defeat her while knowing he can’t. Her father couldn’t break her then, and this bridge can’t beat her now, and she is fucking invincible.