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rainbowfic2016-08-08 07:28 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2016-08-08 07:28 pm
Olympic Gold #14, Plant Party #24
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Prime
Colors: Olympic Gold #14 (rings), Plant Party #24 (Slippery Elm)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Graffiti (Sprinting)
Word Count: 421
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Tabitha and her grandmother.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“When it’s your time, you have to go,” her grandmother had told her that late fall day, one frail hand laid atop Tabitha’s. “I won’t be there for your graduation, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
Tabitha had insisted on all black, despite her mother telling her that wasn’t the done thing anymore.
“Your grandmother liked color,” she had said.
Tabitha had pinned a pink rose to her shirt and refused to make any more concessions. She knew what her grandmother liked, but she also now knew the pain of being left behind. Black was the only thing that seemed fitting.
Her grandmother hadn’t looked like her grandmother, laying there in makeup, her normally frizzy hair tamed into smooth curls, wearing a dress she would have never chosen for herself in life. It was a dress her mother had picked, and Tabitha hated her a little for implying Tabitha didn’t know her own grandmother when it was clear it was her own mother who was clueless.
“She hated dresses,” she had told her mother.
“Well, I wasn’t going to bury her in her overalls,” her mother had snapped back, her eyes red and brimming with tears. In years to come Tabitha would regret her behavior that day; she was in pain, but her mother had just lost her own mother, and she hadn’t respected that at all.
But at the time she was two months into eighteen and thought her mother didn’t understand anything about the world, and certainly nothing about Tabitha herself.
“She’s not wearing her rings,” she had complained to her mother.
“Those ghastly things?” her mother had replied.
She had stood at the casket and looked at the poor impersonation of her grandmother, and said, “I wish you had been my mom,” and she made sure her mother was close enough to hear it. All Tabitha’s grandmother had ever told her was that she was strong, that she could take care of herself. Her mother, on the contrary, had stressed the value of sacrificing for family.
Tabitha hadn’t wanted to sacrifice. She had wanted her own life. Making sure her mother wasn’t looking, she had slipped one of her grandmother’s rings--one that she had given Tabitha years ago--out of her pocket. She didn’t think she could get away with putting it on her grandmother’s finger, but she hid it in the folds of her dress and stood back. That would have to be good enough.
No matter what her mother said, Tabitha knew whose lessons she would always take to heart.
kay_brookeStory: The Prime
Colors: Olympic Gold #14 (rings), Plant Party #24 (Slippery Elm)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Graffiti (Sprinting)
Word Count: 421
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Tabitha and her grandmother.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“When it’s your time, you have to go,” her grandmother had told her that late fall day, one frail hand laid atop Tabitha’s. “I won’t be there for your graduation, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
Tabitha had insisted on all black, despite her mother telling her that wasn’t the done thing anymore.
“Your grandmother liked color,” she had said.
Tabitha had pinned a pink rose to her shirt and refused to make any more concessions. She knew what her grandmother liked, but she also now knew the pain of being left behind. Black was the only thing that seemed fitting.
Her grandmother hadn’t looked like her grandmother, laying there in makeup, her normally frizzy hair tamed into smooth curls, wearing a dress she would have never chosen for herself in life. It was a dress her mother had picked, and Tabitha hated her a little for implying Tabitha didn’t know her own grandmother when it was clear it was her own mother who was clueless.
“She hated dresses,” she had told her mother.
“Well, I wasn’t going to bury her in her overalls,” her mother had snapped back, her eyes red and brimming with tears. In years to come Tabitha would regret her behavior that day; she was in pain, but her mother had just lost her own mother, and she hadn’t respected that at all.
But at the time she was two months into eighteen and thought her mother didn’t understand anything about the world, and certainly nothing about Tabitha herself.
“She’s not wearing her rings,” she had complained to her mother.
“Those ghastly things?” her mother had replied.
She had stood at the casket and looked at the poor impersonation of her grandmother, and said, “I wish you had been my mom,” and she made sure her mother was close enough to hear it. All Tabitha’s grandmother had ever told her was that she was strong, that she could take care of herself. Her mother, on the contrary, had stressed the value of sacrificing for family.
Tabitha hadn’t wanted to sacrifice. She had wanted her own life. Making sure her mother wasn’t looking, she had slipped one of her grandmother’s rings--one that she had given Tabitha years ago--out of her pocket. She didn’t think she could get away with putting it on her grandmother’s finger, but she hid it in the folds of her dress and stood back. That would have to be good enough.
No matter what her mother said, Tabitha knew whose lessons she would always take to heart.
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Thanks for reading!
no subject
no subject
Thanks for reading!