When my cousins and I were young heathens growing up wild in Meemaw’s back yard, we’d often play pretend. In our favorite fantasies, we were superheroesque orphan girls who fled our life on dreary Earth by falling through an interdimensional portal… or wormhole… or something… to another world named Lynx. I would spend hours writing about our adventures; they were my first inspiration to actually start writing.
That world matured a lot in my head as I grew up, and I’ve been considering trying to write children’s books starring those characters. I’ve also done a couple of little fics on my FictionPress site about the older versions of those characters.
Anyway, all that was to say that when I saw that this week’s 5MF prompt was “She,” the first female character who sprung into my head was my very first one ever. So I turned that into a little romance-y ficlet.
09.20.13 – She
She couldn’t remember life before he existed in it.
Much of her earlier days were cloudy. Sometimes she remembered fragments out of nowhere, disjointed glimpses of the life she and her younger sisters had led, back in that mundane world they’d been so happy to escape from. Whenever one of those gems resurfaced, she was filled with gladness all over again that her life was now a glory of deep and interesting colors.
But even so, there was a time they existed and he did not. Even those memories were hazy, covered by a veil she simply didn’t wish to remove because things were better now.
The corner of his eye as it wrinkled, a grin spreading slowly across his face as he inspected her with a studied, lazy indifference.
The ring of steel as their naked blades clashed, fracturing sunlight across the meadow while they danced, laughter echoing through the cool air.
The pinched whiteness of his lips as he pressed his shirt tightly against the slice down her side, fingers nonetheless steady as he wound the makeshift bandage tightly to staunch the bleeding after they’d won that last, unexpected fight..
The quiver in his normally smooth, tenor voice as he yelled for his sister to pick up her feet and run, goddammit, before she bleeds out.
“She’s coming,” he reassured her, a bloodied hand reaching up to smooth frazzled hair back from her pale, sweaty brow. But as he smiled down at her, she noticed his eyes didn’t wrinkle. “Don’t close your eyes.”
“Don’t worry,” she gasped, realizing somewhere in the back of her mind that she sounded like shit and her voice was tight and panting and it hurt to speak but this needed to be said. “I’m rather enjoying the view.”