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shallownessThree were original fiction (one of those was obliquely inspired by a fanfic I'd just read), two for Hart of Dixie. Anything over 100 words will also be posted at AO3 and, where suitable, ff.net.
saltwater. Original fiction. Original Female Character, Original Male Character. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘any, any, three wishes’. 161 words.
‘I wish I knew what to write,’ she thinks, pen in hand, words for the past few weeks too little for all the experiences that she has had, letter still unwritten.
When he has read the missive through once, he wishes she had not written it, or better yet that he had turned right for the village and an ale that turned into three instead of coming home to read her letter, for he will have to read it again, to comprehend all the fantastic details – water-horses, really? – but he knows the gist of it will remain the same, she will not be following her letter and coming back to him.
For some months ago, a girl who did not want to become a woman if it meant becoming a wife went to visit her aunt, who lived on the coast, and she did a dangerous thing, she wished her heart’s desire, and the sea listened and gave it to her.
now and then. Original fiction, Original characters. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘any, any, snowstorms and cosy sweaters’. 83 words.
Allie stands by the window, watching the snow swirling around outside, almost captivated by the dance of it, safe and warm on the other side, wearing the cosy alpaca blend sweater Kat had made her buy on Black Friday. But she can see how deep the snow already is, and she can remember about this time last year, when she got caught out by a snowstorm. She shivers a little, which is when her stepmom comes towards her, bearing hot chocolate and reassurance.
not yet. Hart of Dixie. Zoe/Wade. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘Hart of Dixie, any, that's how we do it in the south’. 76 words.
“And that’s how we do it in the south,” Zoe says triumphantly, but her audience is unimpressed, and mouthing ‘we?’ at her.
“Oh, c’mon,” she all but pleads, “how much longer before the Self-Appointed Committee to Determine Who Gets to Count Themselves as From Here lets me in?”
“A little longer, Doc, a little longer,” Wade replies, but leans in for a kiss to sweeten his words and remind her she’s part of another ‘we’ anyway.
none so blind. Original fiction. Original characters. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘Any, any, mutual pining’. 239 words.
“He fancies you back,” she could tell her mum, but ‘he’ is John, mum’s partner at work, and ‘work’ is CID, which, by the way, has made Emma mentally strike policing off her list of potential careers, even if this is a sign that she’s got better observational skills than her mother who is paid for hers. Her mum would ask how she knew, and Emma would roll her eyes and mumble ‘the way he looks at you is just as bad as the way you look at him’, for she hasn’t seen her mum look at anyone like this since, since before Brownies, when it was at her dad – long gone, good riddance – but it’s usually when her mum is giving John a lift or vice versa and Emma’s in the car or on a pavement, and give her six months and she’s going to pester her mum for driving lessons so she can drive herself, thank you very much. But Emma doesn’t tell her mum any of this, because there are still shadows around John’s lovesick puppy eyes, and though she only knows bits of the story of loss and questionable decisions – her mum’s discreet, but her junior officers aren’t – Em wants her mum to be happy, and questionable decisions could mean trouble, as if the day job and a divorce aren’t enough baggage, so let John or her mum say something to each other.
The real Belle. Hart of Dixie, Bluebell. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘any, any, setting as character’. 193 words.
You should see her when she's dressed up - and she sure likes putting on a show - when the strawberries are ripe for picking, perhaps, but she's at her most beautiful when she just is, when it's too humid for pretense, some places a little worn down by all the footfall over the years, others still a little wild. She's on the small size, but big enough for all the important stuff, doctors to help bring your children into this world, a school to teach them, a bar where you can buy a drink for your sweetheart and one where you can drink a little too much when it all breaks down, a gazebo for a proposal, a house to settle down in, a bench for weary bones and good gossip, a church where everyone who knew you can come and bid you goodbye and a resting place for your remains. She's traditional, and the more outlandish the tradition, the more important it is to her, but she'll sweep you along, year after year, and you might roll your eyes or embrace it wholeheartedly, but you can't imagine her any other way.
saltwater. Original fiction. Original Female Character, Original Male Character. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘any, any, three wishes’. 161 words.
‘I wish I knew what to write,’ she thinks, pen in hand, words for the past few weeks too little for all the experiences that she has had, letter still unwritten.
When he has read the missive through once, he wishes she had not written it, or better yet that he had turned right for the village and an ale that turned into three instead of coming home to read her letter, for he will have to read it again, to comprehend all the fantastic details – water-horses, really? – but he knows the gist of it will remain the same, she will not be following her letter and coming back to him.
For some months ago, a girl who did not want to become a woman if it meant becoming a wife went to visit her aunt, who lived on the coast, and she did a dangerous thing, she wished her heart’s desire, and the sea listened and gave it to her.
now and then. Original fiction, Original characters. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘any, any, snowstorms and cosy sweaters’. 83 words.
Allie stands by the window, watching the snow swirling around outside, almost captivated by the dance of it, safe and warm on the other side, wearing the cosy alpaca blend sweater Kat had made her buy on Black Friday. But she can see how deep the snow already is, and she can remember about this time last year, when she got caught out by a snowstorm. She shivers a little, which is when her stepmom comes towards her, bearing hot chocolate and reassurance.
not yet. Hart of Dixie. Zoe/Wade. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘Hart of Dixie, any, that's how we do it in the south’. 76 words.
“And that’s how we do it in the south,” Zoe says triumphantly, but her audience is unimpressed, and mouthing ‘we?’ at her.
“Oh, c’mon,” she all but pleads, “how much longer before the Self-Appointed Committee to Determine Who Gets to Count Themselves as From Here lets me in?”
“A little longer, Doc, a little longer,” Wade replies, but leans in for a kiss to sweeten his words and remind her she’s part of another ‘we’ anyway.
none so blind. Original fiction. Original characters. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘Any, any, mutual pining’. 239 words.
“He fancies you back,” she could tell her mum, but ‘he’ is John, mum’s partner at work, and ‘work’ is CID, which, by the way, has made Emma mentally strike policing off her list of potential careers, even if this is a sign that she’s got better observational skills than her mother who is paid for hers. Her mum would ask how she knew, and Emma would roll her eyes and mumble ‘the way he looks at you is just as bad as the way you look at him’, for she hasn’t seen her mum look at anyone like this since, since before Brownies, when it was at her dad – long gone, good riddance – but it’s usually when her mum is giving John a lift or vice versa and Emma’s in the car or on a pavement, and give her six months and she’s going to pester her mum for driving lessons so she can drive herself, thank you very much. But Emma doesn’t tell her mum any of this, because there are still shadows around John’s lovesick puppy eyes, and though she only knows bits of the story of loss and questionable decisions – her mum’s discreet, but her junior officers aren’t – Em wants her mum to be happy, and questionable decisions could mean trouble, as if the day job and a divorce aren’t enough baggage, so let John or her mum say something to each other.
The real Belle. Hart of Dixie, Bluebell. Written for the threesentenceficathon prompt ‘any, any, setting as character’. 193 words.
You should see her when she's dressed up - and she sure likes putting on a show - when the strawberries are ripe for picking, perhaps, but she's at her most beautiful when she just is, when it's too humid for pretense, some places a little worn down by all the footfall over the years, others still a little wild. She's on the small size, but big enough for all the important stuff, doctors to help bring your children into this world, a school to teach them, a bar where you can buy a drink for your sweetheart and one where you can drink a little too much when it all breaks down, a gazebo for a proposal, a house to settle down in, a bench for weary bones and good gossip, a church where everyone who knew you can come and bid you goodbye and a resting place for your remains. She's traditional, and the more outlandish the tradition, the more important it is to her, but she'll sweep you along, year after year, and you might roll your eyes or embrace it wholeheartedly, but you can't imagine her any other way.
