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rainbowfic2014-08-03 02:07 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2014-08-03 02:07 pm
Mystic Beach Blue #3, Seafoam #5
Name: kay_brooke
Story: Unusual Florida
Colors: Mystic Beach Blue #3 (here), Seafoam #5 (icon)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Graffiti (Skindiving)
Word Count: 776
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Cassie finds a picture of her mother.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Cassie found the picture by accident. She was snooping through her sister’s desk drawers, which she knew Amy would be very angry about if she knew, but it was for entirely innocent reasons. Cassie needed glue to finish a project for school, but she was out, there was no more in the cabinet where her aunt kept such things, and the only other person home was her uncle, who told her he’d take her to the store as soon as the football game was over, which Cassie could see from the screen had just started.
Unwilling to wait, she’d done into Amy’s desk to see if she had some.
And there was the picture, a faded Polaroid carefully pressed between two new-looking notebooks, the one on top a utilitarian navy blue and the one beneath a Lisa Frank unicorns-and-stars dreamscape, which was so unlike Amy that Cassie wondered where it had even come from.
But the picture captured her full attention immediately. For one surreal moment she thought it was her somehow, a her from the future, a full grown-up. She flipped it over to catch her breath, her heart pounding in fear, and saw, blue ink in Amy’s neat cursive: Mom 1985.
The natural order of the world restored, Cassie flipped it back over, and wondered how she didn’t recognize her own mother. But she didn’t remember her mother, being so young when she had died, and she realized then that she had never really seen a picture, either. Her aunt and uncle weren’t the type to keep family pictures around, and of course her dad didn’t have any. He wouldn’t. People had been telling her all her life she looked just like her mother, and sometimes her dad just looked at her while his eyes filled with tears, and she had always kind of thought it was something about her that made him sad.
Now she realized he wasn’t even seeing her. All he saw was a ghost.
Maybe that was why he rarely spoke to her.
He rarely spoke to anyone these days. But Cassie had always felt even more neglected, like sometimes his slid right over her like she wasn’t even there. Was that why? Because she--which she could see the undeniable truth for herself now--looked so very much like her mother?
Cassie sat down on the floor, studying the picture. Her mother was so normal looking. Cassie had always imagined her a bit like an angel. Every time she had asked her aunt about her, her aunt just wiped her eyes and said Karen was in heaven now, had been carried up there to become an angel herself. She was happy there, her aunt said, and if Cassie was good someday she would go to heaven herself and meet her mother, and she’d be able to ask her all the questions she wanted. Cassie’s aunt didn’t seem to care that Cassie didn’t want to wait that long.
But in the picture her mother just looked like a normal person. It had been taken outside, with palm trees in the background. Florida? Cassie didn’t remember Florida, either, but she knew there were palm trees there. Her mother’s hair was tied back into a short ponytail, and it must have been windy because the tail was blown to one side. She was looking straight into the camera with a wide smile--not the forced, self-conscious smile Cassie always made in her school pictures, but a genuine smile. Cassie wondered if that was what her real smiles looked like, and how the photographer had managed to capture it.
Who had taken the picture? Her dad? How had Amy gotten it? Had it been salvaged from the house after the fire or had Amy always had it? Why did she hide it? Was it because she couldn’t bear to look at her mother all the time, or because she was afraid their dad would take it away?
Cassie ran one hand over her mother’s cheek, and imagined it was real skin.
The front door slammed; Amy called out a hello to the mostly-empty house. Cassie jumped up and shoved the photo back into her sister’s desk drawer, being careful to replace the navy blue notebook back on top. She had just shoved the drawer closed and hopped onto her own bed when Amy came into the room.
Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” said Cassie, trying to project as much calm as possible. “I was just waiting for you to get home. Do you have any glue I could borrow?”
kay_brookeStory: Unusual Florida
Colors: Mystic Beach Blue #3 (here), Seafoam #5 (icon)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Graffiti (Skindiving)
Word Count: 776
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Cassie finds a picture of her mother.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Cassie found the picture by accident. She was snooping through her sister’s desk drawers, which she knew Amy would be very angry about if she knew, but it was for entirely innocent reasons. Cassie needed glue to finish a project for school, but she was out, there was no more in the cabinet where her aunt kept such things, and the only other person home was her uncle, who told her he’d take her to the store as soon as the football game was over, which Cassie could see from the screen had just started.
Unwilling to wait, she’d done into Amy’s desk to see if she had some.
And there was the picture, a faded Polaroid carefully pressed between two new-looking notebooks, the one on top a utilitarian navy blue and the one beneath a Lisa Frank unicorns-and-stars dreamscape, which was so unlike Amy that Cassie wondered where it had even come from.
But the picture captured her full attention immediately. For one surreal moment she thought it was her somehow, a her from the future, a full grown-up. She flipped it over to catch her breath, her heart pounding in fear, and saw, blue ink in Amy’s neat cursive: Mom 1985.
The natural order of the world restored, Cassie flipped it back over, and wondered how she didn’t recognize her own mother. But she didn’t remember her mother, being so young when she had died, and she realized then that she had never really seen a picture, either. Her aunt and uncle weren’t the type to keep family pictures around, and of course her dad didn’t have any. He wouldn’t. People had been telling her all her life she looked just like her mother, and sometimes her dad just looked at her while his eyes filled with tears, and she had always kind of thought it was something about her that made him sad.
Now she realized he wasn’t even seeing her. All he saw was a ghost.
Maybe that was why he rarely spoke to her.
He rarely spoke to anyone these days. But Cassie had always felt even more neglected, like sometimes his slid right over her like she wasn’t even there. Was that why? Because she--which she could see the undeniable truth for herself now--looked so very much like her mother?
Cassie sat down on the floor, studying the picture. Her mother was so normal looking. Cassie had always imagined her a bit like an angel. Every time she had asked her aunt about her, her aunt just wiped her eyes and said Karen was in heaven now, had been carried up there to become an angel herself. She was happy there, her aunt said, and if Cassie was good someday she would go to heaven herself and meet her mother, and she’d be able to ask her all the questions she wanted. Cassie’s aunt didn’t seem to care that Cassie didn’t want to wait that long.
But in the picture her mother just looked like a normal person. It had been taken outside, with palm trees in the background. Florida? Cassie didn’t remember Florida, either, but she knew there were palm trees there. Her mother’s hair was tied back into a short ponytail, and it must have been windy because the tail was blown to one side. She was looking straight into the camera with a wide smile--not the forced, self-conscious smile Cassie always made in her school pictures, but a genuine smile. Cassie wondered if that was what her real smiles looked like, and how the photographer had managed to capture it.
Who had taken the picture? Her dad? How had Amy gotten it? Had it been salvaged from the house after the fire or had Amy always had it? Why did she hide it? Was it because she couldn’t bear to look at her mother all the time, or because she was afraid their dad would take it away?
Cassie ran one hand over her mother’s cheek, and imagined it was real skin.
The front door slammed; Amy called out a hello to the mostly-empty house. Cassie jumped up and shoved the photo back into her sister’s desk drawer, being careful to replace the navy blue notebook back on top. She had just shoved the drawer closed and hopped onto her own bed when Amy came into the room.
Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” said Cassie, trying to project as much calm as possible. “I was just waiting for you to get home. Do you have any glue I could borrow?”
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Either way, I like this a lot. Thank you.
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