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discoveredinalj2007-09-21 04:16 pm
moth2fic.livejournal.com) wrote in discoveredinalj2007-09-21 04:16 pm
Entry tags:
Drabbles
Two prompts. Two drabbles. I don't count the titles.
Spartacus 100 words
A warrior, certainly, ready to fight injustice, trying to improve the lot of the masses, protecting them from the wolves, and from themselves.
Prepared to defend, to the death if necessary, his beliefs, his honour and his partner. Especially his partner, though he hoped to live for him instead.
A slave, too, to the organisation that would call him from bed, board or recreation, to the Official Secrets Act and to government parsimony and pettiness.
Slave, too, to his partner. They had each surrendered their freedom laughingly, lovingly, but not lightly, and the slave shackles were made of pure gold.
Gliding 100 words
Why in the name of Cowley and all sinners had Doyle chosen this sport as their newest recreation?
“For fun,” he had said.
“A different way to keep fit,” he had said.
“To keep you on your toes,” he had said.
And then, the weekend course in the Peak District with the running up and down hill and the instructor’s shouts. But when Bodie saw his partner gliding across the moorland, lit from behind by the early evening sun, he suddenly knew why.
“You had to make the nickname a glorious reality, Angelfish,” he whispered, taking off to join him.
Spartacus 100 words
A warrior, certainly, ready to fight injustice, trying to improve the lot of the masses, protecting them from the wolves, and from themselves.
Prepared to defend, to the death if necessary, his beliefs, his honour and his partner. Especially his partner, though he hoped to live for him instead.
A slave, too, to the organisation that would call him from bed, board or recreation, to the Official Secrets Act and to government parsimony and pettiness.
Slave, too, to his partner. They had each surrendered their freedom laughingly, lovingly, but not lightly, and the slave shackles were made of pure gold.
Gliding 100 words
Why in the name of Cowley and all sinners had Doyle chosen this sport as their newest recreation?
“For fun,” he had said.
“A different way to keep fit,” he had said.
“To keep you on your toes,” he had said.
And then, the weekend course in the Peak District with the running up and down hill and the instructor’s shouts. But when Bodie saw his partner gliding across the moorland, lit from behind by the early evening sun, he suddenly knew why.
“You had to make the nickname a glorious reality, Angelfish,” he whispered, taking off to join him.