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rainbowfic2015-07-03 06:30 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-03 06:30 pm
Angel Cake #8, Dragon Scale Green #5
Name: kay_brooke
Story: Unusual Florida
Colors: Angel Cake #8 (faithful), Dragon Scale Green #5 ("Always speak politely to an enraged dragon." ― Steven Brust)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Seed Beads
Word Count: 904
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Dill wakes up the morning after.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
That night he dreamed of flames and screaming.
”This is your fault!” His boss yelling, pointing, his face red and his eyes mad in every possible meaning. Dill slumped against his car, unable to meet his eyes, unable to tell himself his boss wasn’t right.
He woke up Saturday morning, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage, and laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of his life.
Less than twenty-four hours ago he had left work for the weekend, free and easy, enjoying the early summer weather, the deserted roads, the gorgeous sunset as it lit up the clouds in gold and pink.
Now he wondered if he’d ever get a good night’s sleep again.
Dill peeled himself out of bed and stared at his sweat-stained sheets for several minutes before he stripped them off and left them in a crumpled pile in the corner of his bedroom. He would have to remember to take them to the laundromat later, but for the moment he had more pressing concerns.
He padded into the kitchen and picked up the phone receiver. He was halfway through Kevin’s home number before he remembered.
”Please, Mr. Breaker, I tried to contact you, I called 911, the fire had already started by the time I got here.” But nothing he said calmed his boss, who started a new round of yelling while the remaining firefighters milled around, shooting them askance looks but not interfering.
He tried the studio next, first Kevin’s direct line to his office. No answer, unsurprisingly. Even if it hadn’t been a Saturday, who would come into work the day after such a personal tragedy? So then he called the general line, hoping someone was in that day.
“Breaker Studios, how can I help you?”
He’d know that voice anywhere. “Marcy! Glad you’re in today. It’s Dill.” He twirled the phone cord around his finger. “Look, is there any way I could get a message to Mr. Breaker?”
“I’ll take a message,” said Marcy, sounding wary. “But no one expects him in any time soon, so I can’t guarantee that he’ll get it.”
Dill ran a hand through his hair. Kevin would have to come back at some point. He couldn’t just leave the studio running without him, especially with Karen...Dill shook his head. No, the studio couldn’t lose both of its owners. Kevin would come back eventually. “Thanks, Marcy. I just wanted to ask him if he meant what he said last night.” He bit his lip. “He’ll know what it means.”
“Last night?” Now Marcy definitely sounded disapproving, and Dill bit down on the annoyance that rose up in him. “You were with him last night?”
“I called the fire department.”
”You’re finished.” His boss wasn’t yelling anymore, but the quiet, steely voice was almost worse. “You’ll never work in this industry again.”
Dill clutched the hood of the car. How could his boss do this? How could he blame him for a fire he didn’t start, for a message he hadn’t been responsible for ignoring? It was because of him the fire trucks had gotten there when they did.
“Oh, god.” Marcy fell silent for a few moments, then said, “So is that your whole message?”
“That’s it.”
There was another strange pause, then Marcy said, “Sure. I’ll give it to him if I see him. Will you be in on Monday?”
“That’s sort of what the message is about.” Dill looked toward his front door and the ashtray he kept his keys and studio ID card in. The ashtray looked too empty.
”Mr. Breaker, please.” He was not above begging. “This job is all I have. I’ll do anything you want!”
“They’re dead,” said his boss, voice shaking in rage. “They’re dead, and you’re standing over their bodies.”
“I didn’t do anything! It was already too late when I got here! You can’t blame me for not getting here sooner!” He’d only shown up at all because his boss had forgotten his planner. “I had nothing to do with this! I tried to help, please, Mr. Breaker!”
“Give it to me,” said his boss, holding out his hand. “Your ID card. Give it to me.”
He balked. “I won’t be able to get into the lot without it.”
“I told you, you’re done. You come near my studio, or my family, or me ever again, I’ll do worse than take your job.” And he was up in Dill’s face, his voice rising again, until Dill shoved the ID card in his hand.
“Well,” said Marcy, “I’ll see that he gets it, if he comes in.”
“Thank you,” said Dill, and he hung up the phone. The apartment fell silent. The clock on the wall told him it was only ten in the morning, and he had a whole weekend left to worry. Longer, if he couldn’t appeal to Kevin before Monday morning.
He sat down with yesterday’s newspaper, which he hadn’t gotten a chance to read yet, and tried not to think too hard about what a shambles his life had suddenly become.
As soon as he had the ID card, Dill’s boss walked away as if Dill had suddenly ceased to exist for him. And Dill, still perched on the hood of his car, felt perhaps that was exactly what had happened.
kay_brookeStory: Unusual Florida
Colors: Angel Cake #8 (faithful), Dragon Scale Green #5 ("Always speak politely to an enraged dragon." ― Steven Brust)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Seed Beads
Word Count: 904
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Dill wakes up the morning after.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
That night he dreamed of flames and screaming.
”This is your fault!” His boss yelling, pointing, his face red and his eyes mad in every possible meaning. Dill slumped against his car, unable to meet his eyes, unable to tell himself his boss wasn’t right.
He woke up Saturday morning, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage, and laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of his life.
Less than twenty-four hours ago he had left work for the weekend, free and easy, enjoying the early summer weather, the deserted roads, the gorgeous sunset as it lit up the clouds in gold and pink.
Now he wondered if he’d ever get a good night’s sleep again.
Dill peeled himself out of bed and stared at his sweat-stained sheets for several minutes before he stripped them off and left them in a crumpled pile in the corner of his bedroom. He would have to remember to take them to the laundromat later, but for the moment he had more pressing concerns.
He padded into the kitchen and picked up the phone receiver. He was halfway through Kevin’s home number before he remembered.
”Please, Mr. Breaker, I tried to contact you, I called 911, the fire had already started by the time I got here.” But nothing he said calmed his boss, who started a new round of yelling while the remaining firefighters milled around, shooting them askance looks but not interfering.
He tried the studio next, first Kevin’s direct line to his office. No answer, unsurprisingly. Even if it hadn’t been a Saturday, who would come into work the day after such a personal tragedy? So then he called the general line, hoping someone was in that day.
“Breaker Studios, how can I help you?”
He’d know that voice anywhere. “Marcy! Glad you’re in today. It’s Dill.” He twirled the phone cord around his finger. “Look, is there any way I could get a message to Mr. Breaker?”
“I’ll take a message,” said Marcy, sounding wary. “But no one expects him in any time soon, so I can’t guarantee that he’ll get it.”
Dill ran a hand through his hair. Kevin would have to come back at some point. He couldn’t just leave the studio running without him, especially with Karen...Dill shook his head. No, the studio couldn’t lose both of its owners. Kevin would come back eventually. “Thanks, Marcy. I just wanted to ask him if he meant what he said last night.” He bit his lip. “He’ll know what it means.”
“Last night?” Now Marcy definitely sounded disapproving, and Dill bit down on the annoyance that rose up in him. “You were with him last night?”
“I called the fire department.”
”You’re finished.” His boss wasn’t yelling anymore, but the quiet, steely voice was almost worse. “You’ll never work in this industry again.”
Dill clutched the hood of the car. How could his boss do this? How could he blame him for a fire he didn’t start, for a message he hadn’t been responsible for ignoring? It was because of him the fire trucks had gotten there when they did.
“Oh, god.” Marcy fell silent for a few moments, then said, “So is that your whole message?”
“That’s it.”
There was another strange pause, then Marcy said, “Sure. I’ll give it to him if I see him. Will you be in on Monday?”
“That’s sort of what the message is about.” Dill looked toward his front door and the ashtray he kept his keys and studio ID card in. The ashtray looked too empty.
”Mr. Breaker, please.” He was not above begging. “This job is all I have. I’ll do anything you want!”
“They’re dead,” said his boss, voice shaking in rage. “They’re dead, and you’re standing over their bodies.”
“I didn’t do anything! It was already too late when I got here! You can’t blame me for not getting here sooner!” He’d only shown up at all because his boss had forgotten his planner. “I had nothing to do with this! I tried to help, please, Mr. Breaker!”
“Give it to me,” said his boss, holding out his hand. “Your ID card. Give it to me.”
He balked. “I won’t be able to get into the lot without it.”
“I told you, you’re done. You come near my studio, or my family, or me ever again, I’ll do worse than take your job.” And he was up in Dill’s face, his voice rising again, until Dill shoved the ID card in his hand.
“Well,” said Marcy, “I’ll see that he gets it, if he comes in.”
“Thank you,” said Dill, and he hung up the phone. The apartment fell silent. The clock on the wall told him it was only ten in the morning, and he had a whole weekend left to worry. Longer, if he couldn’t appeal to Kevin before Monday morning.
He sat down with yesterday’s newspaper, which he hadn’t gotten a chance to read yet, and tried not to think too hard about what a shambles his life had suddenly become.
As soon as he had the ID card, Dill’s boss walked away as if Dill had suddenly ceased to exist for him. And Dill, still perched on the hood of his car, felt perhaps that was exactly what had happened.
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Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading!