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rainbowfic2015-07-30 11:35 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-30 11:35 pm
Sherry #2, Rose #17
Name: Greenling
Story: All Great Things-ish
Colors: Sherry #2 (Silver in the lung), Rose #17 (A rose is a rose is a rose.)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Graffiti (Dead Time), Glitter (A pain blooms. I am told that it’s okay to forego details of what happened. I am told it doesn’t matter now. I want to write sentences for days. I want days to not be a sentence. ), Novelty Beads (Image)
Word Count: 566
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of depression, dysphoria, and hypothetical suicide.
Summary: Kevin reacts to his first transformation.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
He was cold for several days after they pulled him out of the lake. The doctors asked all kinds of questions about how he was feeling, what he was thinking, why on Earth would you scare your mother so? When they got out that it wasn't intentional as they all had thought (that it wasn't an attempted suicide, they could just say that) they got a little rougher with the questions, until his father's stone-face glare made them stop.
He was let home after two days and spent the ride back wrapped in a blanket while his sister pretended she wasn't looking at him over top of her phone.
Him.
It felt so good to even think that.
They talked, him and his parents, for a while. They negotiated that he'd stay out of school for the rest of the week, do his homework, and go back Monday. That would give him enough time, he said, to rest up a bit and to think up a story to tell the kids at school, and he thought, to empirically investigate what had happened. They might not let him near the lake again soon, but he had time.
That evening, after his parents had stopped fussing over him and when he was full of the thickest, spiciest beef stew he'd ever had, he went into his room and wrote down all the steps in an unused notebook, illustrating with stick figures where his mind ran out of words. Hypothesis: I died and got made something else. Hypothesis: there are monsters in the lake by the library. Hypothesis: I have some kind of strange power.
(On a seperate paper, he tried out names for himself. One column of male names, and another in case it turned out he was a superhero.)
The third was the easiest to test. He had instincts now, ideas of how this worked. Maybe a lot of it didn't lend itself to external validation, but in science you started simple in case the rest didn't work out. His sister had a full-length mirror in her room, and first thing the next morning after everyone had gone he snuck in to look. His heart beat in his chest. His stomach growled.
He looked in the mirror; same awkward short, messy braids, round face, strong legs that needed shaved, pajama top too low for comfort. He closed his eyes and felt different.
Opened them. Breath caught.
It didn't look at all like he'd thought it would. It was clear as day- he was- even all of it put together in stark psychedelic colors. His head hurt how he could see himself overlaid on himself, tall and broad-shouldered, with wolf fur and snake eyes and flowers at his temples, and all kinds of things. His stomach hurt at how nice it was.
He spent a while sitting in there, knees to chest, pretending he wasn't crying. If someone else could see this- anyone else-
He swallowed his tears and centered himself. It was just the first step on the list, anyway. The rest of the world was still the same. He could cry in his room, but first he would have breakfast, and a shower, and get dressed, and figure out what else useful he could do looking like a civilized person.
Maybe Google how someone went about looking more like a boy, while he had breathing room.
Story: All Great Things-ish
Colors: Sherry #2 (Silver in the lung), Rose #17 (A rose is a rose is a rose.)
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Graffiti (Dead Time), Glitter (A pain blooms. I am told that it’s okay to forego details of what happened. I am told it doesn’t matter now. I want to write sentences for days. I want days to not be a sentence. ), Novelty Beads (Image)
Word Count: 566
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of depression, dysphoria, and hypothetical suicide.
Summary: Kevin reacts to his first transformation.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
He was cold for several days after they pulled him out of the lake. The doctors asked all kinds of questions about how he was feeling, what he was thinking, why on Earth would you scare your mother so? When they got out that it wasn't intentional as they all had thought (that it wasn't an attempted suicide, they could just say that) they got a little rougher with the questions, until his father's stone-face glare made them stop.
He was let home after two days and spent the ride back wrapped in a blanket while his sister pretended she wasn't looking at him over top of her phone.
Him.
It felt so good to even think that.
They talked, him and his parents, for a while. They negotiated that he'd stay out of school for the rest of the week, do his homework, and go back Monday. That would give him enough time, he said, to rest up a bit and to think up a story to tell the kids at school, and he thought, to empirically investigate what had happened. They might not let him near the lake again soon, but he had time.
That evening, after his parents had stopped fussing over him and when he was full of the thickest, spiciest beef stew he'd ever had, he went into his room and wrote down all the steps in an unused notebook, illustrating with stick figures where his mind ran out of words. Hypothesis: I died and got made something else. Hypothesis: there are monsters in the lake by the library. Hypothesis: I have some kind of strange power.
(On a seperate paper, he tried out names for himself. One column of male names, and another in case it turned out he was a superhero.)
The third was the easiest to test. He had instincts now, ideas of how this worked. Maybe a lot of it didn't lend itself to external validation, but in science you started simple in case the rest didn't work out. His sister had a full-length mirror in her room, and first thing the next morning after everyone had gone he snuck in to look. His heart beat in his chest. His stomach growled.
He looked in the mirror; same awkward short, messy braids, round face, strong legs that needed shaved, pajama top too low for comfort. He closed his eyes and felt different.
Opened them. Breath caught.
It didn't look at all like he'd thought it would. It was clear as day- he was- even all of it put together in stark psychedelic colors. His head hurt how he could see himself overlaid on himself, tall and broad-shouldered, with wolf fur and snake eyes and flowers at his temples, and all kinds of things. His stomach hurt at how nice it was.
He spent a while sitting in there, knees to chest, pretending he wasn't crying. If someone else could see this- anyone else-
He swallowed his tears and centered himself. It was just the first step on the list, anyway. The rest of the world was still the same. He could cry in his room, but first he would have breakfast, and a shower, and get dressed, and figure out what else useful he could do looking like a civilized person.
Maybe Google how someone went about looking more like a boy, while he had breathing room.
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Thanks for reading. :3
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Thanks for reading!
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