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rainbowfic2015-08-01 07:23 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-08-01 07:23 pm
Alien Green 8
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival, Duck Gallery: http://s1241.photobucket.com/user/rainbowficmods/media/Dead%20Time%202015/tumblr_nlyfpa9B2k1qccjyio2_540.jpg.html), Canvas
Characters: Corwin (POV), An Ex-Martin
Colors: Alien Green 8 (I wanna speak to the writers.)
Word Count: 247
Rating: PG
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Grief and paradox are each bad enough on their own.
Note: I EAT PROMPTS LIKE TATER CHIPS OH MY GOD.
I’m strapped in my seat, staring into space. Literally. The stars outside my window aren’t shining, because there’s no air to shine through. They’re just burning, the way they do in real life.
But this doesn’t feel like real life anymore.
My best friend is taking up the isle. Folded into himself in that cold metal box, ribcage shattered, ice in his veins.
And I can’t figure out what happens next.
They told me he was dead. Not dead as in “coded for a few seconds,” but dead as in “gone, and not coming back.”
Then they told me someone might be able to fix it, and that shorted out my head.
From last night until now, I was numb.
When the blue-green arc of the Earth filled my window, I finally started asking myself some questions.
How am I going to explain this to his parents?
Why did they rush both of us out like this?
Are they ever going to take that beam out of his chest?
When will he wake up?
Is he going to wake up at all?
…Is he even still in there?
Without really thinking about it, I rest my hand on the lid. It’s smooth, and hard, and cool to the touch, and you’d never guess it was a person.
I wish it wasn’t locked.
All I want to do is crack it open, and tell him everything will be okay.
Actually, fuck that.
I want him to tell me.
starphotographsStory: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival, Duck Gallery: http://s1241.photobucket.com/user/rainbowficmods/media/Dead%20Time%202015/tumblr_nlyfpa9B2k1qccjyio2_540.jpg.html), Canvas
Characters: Corwin (POV), An Ex-Martin
Colors: Alien Green 8 (I wanna speak to the writers.)
Word Count: 247
Rating: PG
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Grief and paradox are each bad enough on their own.
Note: I EAT PROMPTS LIKE TATER CHIPS OH MY GOD.
I’m strapped in my seat, staring into space. Literally. The stars outside my window aren’t shining, because there’s no air to shine through. They’re just burning, the way they do in real life.
But this doesn’t feel like real life anymore.
My best friend is taking up the isle. Folded into himself in that cold metal box, ribcage shattered, ice in his veins.
And I can’t figure out what happens next.
They told me he was dead. Not dead as in “coded for a few seconds,” but dead as in “gone, and not coming back.”
Then they told me someone might be able to fix it, and that shorted out my head.
From last night until now, I was numb.
When the blue-green arc of the Earth filled my window, I finally started asking myself some questions.
How am I going to explain this to his parents?
Why did they rush both of us out like this?
Are they ever going to take that beam out of his chest?
When will he wake up?
Is he going to wake up at all?
…Is he even still in there?
Without really thinking about it, I rest my hand on the lid. It’s smooth, and hard, and cool to the touch, and you’d never guess it was a person.
I wish it wasn’t locked.
All I want to do is crack it open, and tell him everything will be okay.
Actually, fuck that.
I want him to tell me.
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no subject
Not gonna lie though the ex-martin mention was amusing.
no subject