FOTD, Butter Pecan 19: Dawn
Title: Dawn
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (lucubration: nocturnal study; meditation), butter pecan 19 (cold), malt (lady_macbeth_19's birthday prompt: "Suffering is God's Megaphone to rouse a deaf nation. We are like blocks of stone, from which the sculptor craves forms of men. The blows of his chisel, which hurt so much, make us perfect." ~ CS Lewis), caramel, cherry (this is... not what I usually write).
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG.
Summary: Summer at Georgetown.
Notes: Inspired by driving into DC very early this morning to pick up a friend.
ETA: self, how 'bout you use the right butter pecan prompt.
Summer puts her book down and stands, stretching, easing the kinks in her shoulders and neck. She's been studying too long: since she woke up at three AM so homesick she almost cried.
She walks away from her desk and to the window. A glimmer of dawn shines through the bare branches of the trees, making lacy delicate patterns dark against a lightening sky. She can't see the river from her apartment, but she can hear the wind, and she knows how it will look: dark tossing water crowned with whitecaps, low and sullen now at the end of autumn. There may even be fringes of ice on the shoreline. She will have to go down later and look.
It was so dark last night, and the wind was so loud. She closes her eyes, thinking of it. She woke up in her dark apartment to the rattle and howl of the wind scrabbling at her windows, trying to get in like a lonely, cold stranger. She'd almost cried out for someone before she remembered that she was alone, that everyone was a stranger, that for the first time in her life she knew no one and there was no one to come if she cried out in the night.
The only thing was to get up and study for her morning class; to help remember why she is here, so far from home. Why she has come to this university on the edge of a bluff, why she wakes every morning to a freezing apartment and gets out of bed all the same.
She wants to be a doctor. She wants to help.
The glass of the window is cold against her palm as she rests her hand on it, outlining her fingers against the blush-pink light of dawn.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (lucubration: nocturnal study; meditation), butter pecan 19 (cold), malt (lady_macbeth_19's birthday prompt: "Suffering is God's Megaphone to rouse a deaf nation. We are like blocks of stone, from which the sculptor craves forms of men. The blows of his chisel, which hurt so much, make us perfect." ~ CS Lewis), caramel, cherry (this is... not what I usually write).
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG.
Summary: Summer at Georgetown.
Notes: Inspired by driving into DC very early this morning to pick up a friend.
ETA: self, how 'bout you use the right butter pecan prompt.
Summer puts her book down and stands, stretching, easing the kinks in her shoulders and neck. She's been studying too long: since she woke up at three AM so homesick she almost cried.
She walks away from her desk and to the window. A glimmer of dawn shines through the bare branches of the trees, making lacy delicate patterns dark against a lightening sky. She can't see the river from her apartment, but she can hear the wind, and she knows how it will look: dark tossing water crowned with whitecaps, low and sullen now at the end of autumn. There may even be fringes of ice on the shoreline. She will have to go down later and look.
It was so dark last night, and the wind was so loud. She closes her eyes, thinking of it. She woke up in her dark apartment to the rattle and howl of the wind scrabbling at her windows, trying to get in like a lonely, cold stranger. She'd almost cried out for someone before she remembered that she was alone, that everyone was a stranger, that for the first time in her life she knew no one and there was no one to come if she cried out in the night.
The only thing was to get up and study for her morning class; to help remember why she is here, so far from home. Why she has come to this university on the edge of a bluff, why she wakes every morning to a freezing apartment and gets out of bed all the same.
She wants to be a doctor. She wants to help.
The glass of the window is cold against her palm as she rests her hand on it, outlining her fingers against the blush-pink light of dawn.