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rainbowfic2013-08-10 05:24 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-10 05:24 pm
Stars and Stripes 21, Quill Grey 9: bird on a wire
Author: Kat
Title: bird on a wire
Story: In the Heart -- EPIC PIRATE AU
Colors: Stars and stripes 21 (“Raising the kids is the mother’s responsibility. It’s a thankless, solitary job, like sheriff or Pope.”), quill grey 9 (The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there... clamoring to become visible. - Vladimir Nabakov) with Kana's paint-by-numbers (There is no right or wrong, only the consequences of your actions)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompt), photography, feathers ("After all this time, you won't even say goodbye?"), novelty beads ("I say ya kill your heroes and/fly, fly, baby don't cry" -- AWOLNATION, "Kill Your Heroes"), eraser (EPIC PIRATE AU).
Word Count: 654
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Melanie ruminates.
Warnings: a pregnant woman decidedly NOT happy about it, discussion of child abandonment.
Notes: No actual pirates appear in this story. Sorry.
The ocean rumbled in Melanie's ears, a little louder with every step.
She hadn't meant this. Rocks cut sharp at her feet and legs as she climbed down to the beach, clumsy with the unusual weight. All she'd wanted was a little pleasure for the both of them. A time on the cliffs above the sea, a warm man and a cold breeze and always the ocean. She never had wanted a child, a little thing who needed her to live. The nine months it grew inside her were only the beginning—it would need her to wash it, to feed it, to hold its hands while it learned to walk, to tell it she loved it, without question.
She did not love it. She feared it. That was no life for a child.
She'd chosen a good man, at least. Her feet sank into the sand under the weight of her belly, and the ocean washed over her toes, chilling, soothing. He would care for the child he'd sired. He would marry her, even—but she recoiled from that thought instinctively, water splashing around her ankles as she moved, the sharp bite of a shell beneath one foot. No.
Begin, then, with the child.
It was too late to prevent it; the coming child was a fact that weighed her down a little more every morning. She would bear it. She would feed it, too, at least for a time—her breasts already swelled with milk, aching as she lay in bed. But that would end. There were ways, she knew, to dry up a woman's milk, and only one that she had no intention of using.
Bear the child, then. See it nourished. And then.
What did she want? She, Melanie, what was there for her?
She did not want to be married. That was granted. It was only that this child's good father would simply assume, and she would be wedded before she knew it, trapped and tangled for good and all, a babe at her breast and another in her belly, drowning before she could even gasp for air. No. No marriage.
And perhaps she could make him understand that. He was a good man, after all. What then? She did not want this child, and she certainly did not want more. To give her time, her heart, her body, her very self to the care of another creature, it frightened her even more than the noose of marriage. It would consume her.
It was already consuming her. Every bite she ate, the child took. What energy she had the child needed to grow. Her very breath enabled it to live. She caught that breath on a shuddering gasp, forced herself to take it evenly, bent as far she could and splashed her face with seawater. How bad would it be when it lived outside of her? How much worse could it get?
How much would she hate it, even as she struggled to care for it? How much would it know? How much would it hate her?
The ocean roared in her ears, drowning out all thought.
She would bear it. She had no choice. But once it was born, once she knew it would live, she would be gone. The child would not be alone—the good people who had taken her in would care for it until its father returned. Perhaps Melanie could even get them a goat, a creature to feed the child when she could not.
Her child would live with its father. She would be gone. She would be free. If it hated her for that...
She would live, and so would it. If she was careful, no one would ever know how much worse it could have been.
The rocks cut at her less when she climbed back up the path. In her ears, the ocean rumbled, a dull murmur, a constant call.
Title: bird on a wire
Story: In the Heart -- EPIC PIRATE AU
Colors: Stars and stripes 21 (“Raising the kids is the mother’s responsibility. It’s a thankless, solitary job, like sheriff or Pope.”), quill grey 9 (The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there... clamoring to become visible. - Vladimir Nabakov) with Kana's paint-by-numbers (There is no right or wrong, only the consequences of your actions)
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Midsummer Night's Dream prompt), photography, feathers ("After all this time, you won't even say goodbye?"), novelty beads ("I say ya kill your heroes and/fly, fly, baby don't cry" -- AWOLNATION, "Kill Your Heroes"), eraser (EPIC PIRATE AU).
Word Count: 654
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Melanie ruminates.
Warnings: a pregnant woman decidedly NOT happy about it, discussion of child abandonment.
Notes: No actual pirates appear in this story. Sorry.
The ocean rumbled in Melanie's ears, a little louder with every step.
She hadn't meant this. Rocks cut sharp at her feet and legs as she climbed down to the beach, clumsy with the unusual weight. All she'd wanted was a little pleasure for the both of them. A time on the cliffs above the sea, a warm man and a cold breeze and always the ocean. She never had wanted a child, a little thing who needed her to live. The nine months it grew inside her were only the beginning—it would need her to wash it, to feed it, to hold its hands while it learned to walk, to tell it she loved it, without question.
She did not love it. She feared it. That was no life for a child.
She'd chosen a good man, at least. Her feet sank into the sand under the weight of her belly, and the ocean washed over her toes, chilling, soothing. He would care for the child he'd sired. He would marry her, even—but she recoiled from that thought instinctively, water splashing around her ankles as she moved, the sharp bite of a shell beneath one foot. No.
Begin, then, with the child.
It was too late to prevent it; the coming child was a fact that weighed her down a little more every morning. She would bear it. She would feed it, too, at least for a time—her breasts already swelled with milk, aching as she lay in bed. But that would end. There were ways, she knew, to dry up a woman's milk, and only one that she had no intention of using.
Bear the child, then. See it nourished. And then.
What did she want? She, Melanie, what was there for her?
She did not want to be married. That was granted. It was only that this child's good father would simply assume, and she would be wedded before she knew it, trapped and tangled for good and all, a babe at her breast and another in her belly, drowning before she could even gasp for air. No. No marriage.
And perhaps she could make him understand that. He was a good man, after all. What then? She did not want this child, and she certainly did not want more. To give her time, her heart, her body, her very self to the care of another creature, it frightened her even more than the noose of marriage. It would consume her.
It was already consuming her. Every bite she ate, the child took. What energy she had the child needed to grow. Her very breath enabled it to live. She caught that breath on a shuddering gasp, forced herself to take it evenly, bent as far she could and splashed her face with seawater. How bad would it be when it lived outside of her? How much worse could it get?
How much would she hate it, even as she struggled to care for it? How much would it know? How much would it hate her?
The ocean roared in her ears, drowning out all thought.
She would bear it. She had no choice. But once it was born, once she knew it would live, she would be gone. The child would not be alone—the good people who had taken her in would care for it until its father returned. Perhaps Melanie could even get them a goat, a creature to feed the child when she could not.
Her child would live with its father. She would be gone. She would be free. If it hated her for that...
She would live, and so would it. If she was careful, no one would ever know how much worse it could have been.
The rocks cut at her less when she climbed back up the path. In her ears, the ocean rumbled, a dull murmur, a constant call.
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