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rainbowfic2015-07-03 08:35 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-03 08:35 pm
Milk Bottle 10, Dragon Scale Green 9, Folly 1
Name: starphotographs
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Milk Bottle, Dragon Scale Green, Summer Carnival), Canvas, Glitter (http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/difference)
Characters: Milo (POV), Kit, others mentioned, but mostly just Milo.
Colors: Milk Bottle 10 (Dark Ride), Dragon Scale Green 9 ("With money you are a dragon; with no money, a worm." ― Proverb), Folly 1 (How much trouble can one toddler be?)
Word Count: 863
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Milo takes a ride.
Note: I’ve written about this scene several times, but I wanted to actually write it.
A Message to the Moons
I’m doing this because I have to.
They took us apart, and it’s my job to put us back together. And I will put us back together. By the time the sun comes up on his side of the world, I’ll be there. It’ll be my side, too.
And I won’t let this happen again.
I can’t.
Kit needs me, is what I told myself, packing my bag and slipping out the door. But here, in this cold, dark train, cutting through the cold, dark night, I finally had to admit to myself that I needed him.
That I’m weak, and I’m selfish, and I don’t know what to do when it isn’t both of us. Because it’s always been both of us. We’ve outlasted everything together.
It’ll be both of us again soon. I’m making it so.
*****
The weird thing, when I think about it, is that Kittrell and I first met on a train.
We were all on the subway, heading for the hospital, and it was stalled. It stalled all the time, but I knew this wasn’t something you could fix by explaining why you were late. The lights were flickering, and a strange lady was holding onto me and trying to hide my face in her coat. Mom and Kit were over on the other side of the car, and Kit’s dad was saying something about how they should have gone in the first place, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I didn’t know what they were talking about. Having kids at home was normal. Mom had me at home.
Well, actually, I was born in our neighbors’ kitchen. But that’s just because she didn’t know I was coming just yet.
Having kids in hospitals was for rich people and undergrounders. Everyone in Darwintown had their kids in their own bathroom. We couldn’t get to the hospital in time.
We couldn’t get to the hospital in time.
My mom bled out. My brother lived.
I wasn‘t angry with either of them.
They’d both lost something, too.
*****
I was only six, so I was alright. I mean, it hurt, but things usually work out when you get hurt at that age. You can scrape the top five layers off your knee, and after a few years, you remember crying a lot, and that there was pain, well enough that you don’t want it to happen again, but you don’t remember the pain itself. And the scar gets to the point where you can barely find it anymore, unless you pay close attention to the grain of the skin.
It becomes just another part of your body.
What really stuck with me, at a level I don’t think I understood yet, is that I was what was left of her. I had to be something of what she was.
And that Kit was the only one left who was even related to me.
I had to stay by his side, and keep him by mine, holding on for dear life.
Not that I had any choice in the matter. As soon as Kit was using the toilet, I was left in charge of him all day while his dad went to work in an iron mine or a processing plant or somewhere like that. I mostly remember a lot of telling him how different things in the house worked, and being too short to cook.
By the time his dad got in that accident, I was pretty much tall enough to cook. I’d been taking care of us for at least two years.
No wonder it never occurred to me to tell anyone we were orphans.
*****
I told myself I’d be taking care of us again soon.
The train car is so poorly-heated that I can see my breath. I jam my hands in my pockets, then sit on them, then hold myself and jam them under my arms. Nothing feels any different. By now, I’m as cold as the rest of the train.
I told myself we’d see each other in the morning.
The sky beyond the window is full of stars, and the moons look as tiny and dilapidated as everything else in my miniature world. They have the kind of crappy names people only give things they think they’ll never have to live with; Panic/Fear, Terror/Dread. Not like I could think of anything better. I stared at them until they started reminding me of old cans on a string. All I wanted was to take one in my hands, tighten the cord, and yell for my brother. Tell him I’m coming.
I told myself that he missed me as much as I missed him.
I did my best to count the time zones and add up the hours, to figure out what he was doing, but my mind wasn’t cooperating. Time is no match for space. It didn’t matter if it was morning or lunchtime or bedtime. What mattered was that he was there and I was here.
What mattered was closing that gap.
In my head, I call out to the moons.
I’m coming, I’m coming.
I’ll be there.
I’ll always be there.
starphotographsStory: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Milk Bottle, Dragon Scale Green, Summer Carnival), Canvas, Glitter (http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/difference)
Characters: Milo (POV), Kit, others mentioned, but mostly just Milo.
Colors: Milk Bottle 10 (Dark Ride), Dragon Scale Green 9 ("With money you are a dragon; with no money, a worm." ― Proverb), Folly 1 (How much trouble can one toddler be?)
Word Count: 863
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Milo takes a ride.
Note: I’ve written about this scene several times, but I wanted to actually write it.
I’m doing this because I have to.
They took us apart, and it’s my job to put us back together. And I will put us back together. By the time the sun comes up on his side of the world, I’ll be there. It’ll be my side, too.
And I won’t let this happen again.
I can’t.
Kit needs me, is what I told myself, packing my bag and slipping out the door. But here, in this cold, dark train, cutting through the cold, dark night, I finally had to admit to myself that I needed him.
That I’m weak, and I’m selfish, and I don’t know what to do when it isn’t both of us. Because it’s always been both of us. We’ve outlasted everything together.
It’ll be both of us again soon. I’m making it so.
*****
The weird thing, when I think about it, is that Kittrell and I first met on a train.
We were all on the subway, heading for the hospital, and it was stalled. It stalled all the time, but I knew this wasn’t something you could fix by explaining why you were late. The lights were flickering, and a strange lady was holding onto me and trying to hide my face in her coat. Mom and Kit were over on the other side of the car, and Kit’s dad was saying something about how they should have gone in the first place, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I didn’t know what they were talking about. Having kids at home was normal. Mom had me at home.
Well, actually, I was born in our neighbors’ kitchen. But that’s just because she didn’t know I was coming just yet.
Having kids in hospitals was for rich people and undergrounders. Everyone in Darwintown had their kids in their own bathroom. We couldn’t get to the hospital in time.
We couldn’t get to the hospital in time.
My mom bled out. My brother lived.
I wasn‘t angry with either of them.
They’d both lost something, too.
I was only six, so I was alright. I mean, it hurt, but things usually work out when you get hurt at that age. You can scrape the top five layers off your knee, and after a few years, you remember crying a lot, and that there was pain, well enough that you don’t want it to happen again, but you don’t remember the pain itself. And the scar gets to the point where you can barely find it anymore, unless you pay close attention to the grain of the skin.
It becomes just another part of your body.
What really stuck with me, at a level I don’t think I understood yet, is that I was what was left of her. I had to be something of what she was.
And that Kit was the only one left who was even related to me.
I had to stay by his side, and keep him by mine, holding on for dear life.
Not that I had any choice in the matter. As soon as Kit was using the toilet, I was left in charge of him all day while his dad went to work in an iron mine or a processing plant or somewhere like that. I mostly remember a lot of telling him how different things in the house worked, and being too short to cook.
By the time his dad got in that accident, I was pretty much tall enough to cook. I’d been taking care of us for at least two years.
No wonder it never occurred to me to tell anyone we were orphans.
I told myself I’d be taking care of us again soon.
The train car is so poorly-heated that I can see my breath. I jam my hands in my pockets, then sit on them, then hold myself and jam them under my arms. Nothing feels any different. By now, I’m as cold as the rest of the train.
I told myself we’d see each other in the morning.
The sky beyond the window is full of stars, and the moons look as tiny and dilapidated as everything else in my miniature world. They have the kind of crappy names people only give things they think they’ll never have to live with; Panic/Fear, Terror/Dread. Not like I could think of anything better. I stared at them until they started reminding me of old cans on a string. All I wanted was to take one in my hands, tighten the cord, and yell for my brother. Tell him I’m coming.
I told myself that he missed me as much as I missed him.
I did my best to count the time zones and add up the hours, to figure out what he was doing, but my mind wasn’t cooperating. Time is no match for space. It didn’t matter if it was morning or lunchtime or bedtime. What mattered was that he was there and I was here.
What mattered was closing that gap.
In my head, I call out to the moons.
I’m coming, I’m coming.
I’ll be there.
I’ll always be there.