original prompt: fantasy
Title: Ghost Runner
Author: LiLx (A_is4Addiction)
Word Count: 178
Rating: G
Characters: Mulder/William
A/N: Made up my own prompt to fit the drabble I wrote. I hope it pleases :] (PS: Feel free to use this prompt if you'd like!)
He opens his eyes to a sun-drenched backyard that seems to stretch on for miles. Four squares of white stand out against the vibrant green of the grass. A boy of five, maybe, stands a few feet away from a pile of dirt- a makeshift pitcher’s mound. An undersized wooden bat hangs from his fingers. He adjusts his Knicks cap, peeking out from under the bill.
(Dad, show me)
Mulder steps easily into the role of coach, kneeling next to his son. His hands slip over William’s, dwarfing them.
(Remember, hips before hands, follow through)
Two minutes later, William is smiling like Scully and swinging on his own. Mulder pitches a grass-stained baseball and the bat connects.
He watches in awe as the ball sails high above his head, a tiny dot against the clear blue sky. The color matches William’s eyes.
The sky begins to fade away and Mulder, confused, looks back at his son. William waves with one small hand and disappears.
(What are you thinking?)
He opens his eyes to a dark, empty jail cell.
“What are you thinking?”
“About my son, about his mother.”
-The Truth
Author: LiLx (A_is4Addiction)
Word Count: 178
Rating: G
Characters: Mulder/William
A/N: Made up my own prompt to fit the drabble I wrote. I hope it pleases :] (PS: Feel free to use this prompt if you'd like!)
He opens his eyes to a sun-drenched backyard that seems to stretch on for miles. Four squares of white stand out against the vibrant green of the grass. A boy of five, maybe, stands a few feet away from a pile of dirt- a makeshift pitcher’s mound. An undersized wooden bat hangs from his fingers. He adjusts his Knicks cap, peeking out from under the bill.
(Dad, show me)
Mulder steps easily into the role of coach, kneeling next to his son. His hands slip over William’s, dwarfing them.
(Remember, hips before hands, follow through)
Two minutes later, William is smiling like Scully and swinging on his own. Mulder pitches a grass-stained baseball and the bat connects.
He watches in awe as the ball sails high above his head, a tiny dot against the clear blue sky. The color matches William’s eyes.
The sky begins to fade away and Mulder, confused, looks back at his son. William waves with one small hand and disappears.
(What are you thinking?)
He opens his eyes to a dark, empty jail cell.
“What are you thinking?”
“About my son, about his mother.”
-The Truth