Brigit's Flame -- "Seed"
Prompt: "seed"
Word Count: 512
Warnings: drugs referenced, religious themes
Author's Note: Thank you to eltea for looking it over. And thank you to Wikipedia for existing, since otherwise I probably would've had to call my lawyer!dad and waste his time.
"SEED"
Where it started depended on who you asked.
Some people said it started when he made the decision; some people said it was when he broke the glass. Some people said it was when his mom discovered the wonderful world of smack and repossessed the pennies in his college fund. Some people said it was when his daddy left. Some people said it was when his small suburb went to shit, and everybody who could afford to ran like hell.
Some people said it was when the Light-bringer stepped into shadow.
Everybody was saying something, which made it hard to know anything at all.
The newspapers said that Chris Fillmer, age nineteen, was born and bred in the gritty little town, that his father had abandoned the household when he was fourteen years old, and that his mother had become quite the heroin junkie not long later. Parenthetical mentions were made of his siblings, Travis (13), Anthony (12), Alyssa (9), and Rose (6). There had originally been something about a socioeconomic tragedy, but the newspaper business was floundering in the wake of the internet anyway, and an editor’s pen sliced through that sentence and sacrificed it to the Delete key on the limited-wordcount altar.
From the sound of things, Chris was just another kid who liked larceny more than he liked the law.
For some reason, though, this one stuck. People talked. Word spread. Chris Fillmer’s name made its rounds of the grapevine, and slim-veined leaves bowed as it passed.
The fact that he couldn’t get a job came up in the trial. Perhaps he should have tried harder; Gilman at the corner store said it was a family business, and Mrs. Kemp of Kemp’s Pizzeria fame said she just hadn’t liked the look of him.
Everyone in the courtroom was a bit unsettled by Chris himself. He sat quietly, politely, and listened very close. He kept his hands folded in his lap, cuffs and all. He pleaded guilty in a soft, smooth voice, sounding like a choir boy.
The gavel came down with a gunshot bang, and Chris rose to his feet.
“I would like to straighten one thing out,” he said, “Your Honor.”
Eyebrows flicked up all around, a domino progression as his voice carried through the space.
“It’s wrong to steal,” Chris Fillmer noted, “but it’s okay to sit back and watch your family die.”
He was not held in contempt.
An editor moved to strike out the quote and changed her mind.
The prison guards were mystified by his tranquility. There was no anger in Chris Fillmer’s eyes, none in the set of his shoulders, and maybe none in his heart.
Somebody said he’d probably broken into Mama’s stash, and someone else snickered.
As he began the long walk down the cell block on the first day of the next five years of his life, Chris heard something he hadn’t expected.
From all around him, from every side, slowly at first but gaining strength and volume until it was deafening, there came a roar of applause.
Chris smiled.
Word Count: 512
Warnings: drugs referenced, religious themes
Author's Note: Thank you to eltea for looking it over. And thank you to Wikipedia for existing, since otherwise I probably would've had to call my lawyer!dad and waste his time.
"SEED"
Where it started depended on who you asked.
Some people said it started when he made the decision; some people said it was when he broke the glass. Some people said it was when his mom discovered the wonderful world of smack and repossessed the pennies in his college fund. Some people said it was when his daddy left. Some people said it was when his small suburb went to shit, and everybody who could afford to ran like hell.
Some people said it was when the Light-bringer stepped into shadow.
Everybody was saying something, which made it hard to know anything at all.
The newspapers said that Chris Fillmer, age nineteen, was born and bred in the gritty little town, that his father had abandoned the household when he was fourteen years old, and that his mother had become quite the heroin junkie not long later. Parenthetical mentions were made of his siblings, Travis (13), Anthony (12), Alyssa (9), and Rose (6). There had originally been something about a socioeconomic tragedy, but the newspaper business was floundering in the wake of the internet anyway, and an editor’s pen sliced through that sentence and sacrificed it to the Delete key on the limited-wordcount altar.
From the sound of things, Chris was just another kid who liked larceny more than he liked the law.
For some reason, though, this one stuck. People talked. Word spread. Chris Fillmer’s name made its rounds of the grapevine, and slim-veined leaves bowed as it passed.
The fact that he couldn’t get a job came up in the trial. Perhaps he should have tried harder; Gilman at the corner store said it was a family business, and Mrs. Kemp of Kemp’s Pizzeria fame said she just hadn’t liked the look of him.
Everyone in the courtroom was a bit unsettled by Chris himself. He sat quietly, politely, and listened very close. He kept his hands folded in his lap, cuffs and all. He pleaded guilty in a soft, smooth voice, sounding like a choir boy.
The gavel came down with a gunshot bang, and Chris rose to his feet.
“I would like to straighten one thing out,” he said, “Your Honor.”
Eyebrows flicked up all around, a domino progression as his voice carried through the space.
“It’s wrong to steal,” Chris Fillmer noted, “but it’s okay to sit back and watch your family die.”
He was not held in contempt.
An editor moved to strike out the quote and changed her mind.
The prison guards were mystified by his tranquility. There was no anger in Chris Fillmer’s eyes, none in the set of his shoulders, and maybe none in his heart.
Somebody said he’d probably broken into Mama’s stash, and someone else snickered.
As he began the long walk down the cell block on the first day of the next five years of his life, Chris heard something he hadn’t expected.
From all around him, from every side, slowly at first but gaining strength and volume until it was deafening, there came a roar of applause.
Chris smiled.