Word #31

[katiefoolery.livejournal.com]

Here is your word for the week!

Don't look at the word until you are ready to write. When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal. If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.

Today's word is: call

You can copy and paste this code when posting your ficlet if desired.
<b>Title:</b> <b>Fandom/original:</b> <b>Characters:</b> <b>Rating:</b> <b>Word count:</b>

Comments

[rougen.livejournal.com]

Title: Long Distance
http://rougen.livejournal.com/8249.html#cutid1 (as LJ isn't letting me make a cut... grrr...)
Fandom: Noein
Rating: G

[nepheliad.livejournal.com]

Title: Untitled
Fandom/original: Semi-original: dirty_life universe.
Characters: Estee Matthews, Erick & Aaron Pond
Rating: G
Word count: 527

Ring.

Estee Matthews, sometimes Pond, was in the middle of a dream. What the dream was didn't exactly matter; she didn't usually remember them or pay attention to them, despite writing down what she did when she could. It didn't mean all that much most of the time, and after all, Stacey wasn't around to be playing interpreter anyway.

Ring.

She'd fallen asleep in the bunk at the Institute again, after a late night with records. That was why the bunks were there, though – kind of like a crib at a police station, they were usually more for tired officers than unexpected crises.

Ring.

Her telephone was trying to make a point.

Ring.

She was sleeping through it.

RING, the phone said, emphatically, because the other line really did want her attention. The other line wanted her attention at 4:25am, regardless of whether she'd just fallen asleep at three. Regardless of what work she had the next day in either job department. Regardless of how much she'd been doing all day.

Estee Matthews' mobile, like Harold Crick's watch, had a lot of points to make and a lot of things to say, and she was ignoring it.

The telephone didn't believe that she needed sleep. The telephone was of the belief that she lived by its hours, and, especially when it was in cahoots with the pager, this was, largely, true.

The person on the other line of the telephone (or at least one of them) believed she lived by his hours, too, and this too, had potential to be true.

Calmly, the phone began again, starting at its softest, most innocent little ring and progressing louder again, until Estee jumped, overturning most of the books that had remained on top of her when she'd fallen asleep, nearly tumbling on the floor, and grabbing the mobile.

"Matthews."

"I'm so sorry about this, E."

She blinked.

It was her (somewhat estranged) husband. Why was he calling? They hadn't lived together in ages, and he had Aaron that week – Aaron. Fuck.

"– Erick? What's wrong? You sound –" He didn't, in fact, sound concerned or worried or upset. He sounded like a combination of guilty and amused.

"Like I'm trying not to laugh or scream? Yeah. Aaron woke me up just now."

"Is he all right?" Her voice caught.

"Yeah! Yeah, he's fine, just – listen, he comes into my room and goes, 'dad, I am so close to four and three-quarters I can feel it. You've got to ring Mom and maybe she can come over for breakfast!' I think he wants a party for it getting closer to almost being his birthday."

Estee's nervous gasp turned into a quiet chortle, as she put her face in her hand and shook her head. "I'll see what I can do."

"I don't think he understands how I work."

"The part where your hours aren't mine and neither of ours are his and he can't get away with this?"

"Yeah."

But he did get away with it.

Every time.

[blacklid.livejournal.com]

Title: The Whats It (http://blacklid.livejournal.com/17575.html)
Fandom/original: SPN Post-Croatoan (Season 2, Episode 9)
Characters: Sam & Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 242

[starlingthefool.livejournal.com]

Title: The Descent
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: 2 unnamed, ungendered somebodies.
Rating: G
Word count: Exactly 50!

You heard me, but you didn’t answer. I saw it in the tightening of your shoulders, the studied posture of deafness. I was being shut out. I closed my eyes, turned away. I was Galatea’s opposite, turning to less than stone, a statue of cheap plaster and drying tears.

[unehrlichkeit.livejournal.com]

Title: Long Distance
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Unnamed; first person
Rating: G
Word count: 72
Notes: Haiku time!
Long Distance (http://asylums.insanejournal.com/schwarze_sonne/19735.html?mode=reply)

[(Anonymous)]

hmmm...

[(Anonymous)]

Title:
Fandom/original: Original

Leona sauntered into the bathroom stall, push-up bra adjusted with rattily-laquered fingernails. The paint on each paper-thin nail was peeling and chipped, the cuticles surrounding dying for some moisture, and those long, delicate fingers - digits every piano teacher dreams for - were marked with obscene pink and putrid green marker stains. She'd stayed up all night drawing, smoking Virginia Slims, and listening to the same Red Hot Chili Peppers cd on repeat, rising every 33 minutes and 12 seconds to skip over tracks 11 and 12. The cd was scuffed from being carried around in her purse, then shoved in a desk drawer, then dropped on the sidewalk, so two songs had merged and scratched into two and became unintelligable.

She turned and shut the faded beige and black specked door behind her, stopping to gaze at the various messages on it. "JAMES TAKES IT IN THE ASS!" was written in red Sharpie chicken scratch next to blue Bic pen hearts with the initials "S + H" in them. In the upper left-hand corner, in a curly, girlish script, in what looked like a very fine black calligraphy pen, was "Call Leon Hudson, 599-741-".

An audible chuckle could be heard from that stall as she hiked up her skirt and perched on the lid, still re-reading her mis-spelled name and phone number as she urinated. Fucking bitch! she silently laughed. It had been almost eight months since Janie had died, but Leona could clearly and accurately recall the skinny black girl's threats to "destroy" her as if they had been tape recorded and re-played daily to ensure their rememberance.

It had taken only a few weeks of Janie's pranks, including the phone number incident, as well as several other nuiscanes, before Leona could take no more. With one more glance and a bitchy smirk tossed at her own phone number, the plump redhead yanked the door opened and walked to the sink. Absent mindedly washing her hands, she recalled that wet and windy night Janie's car crashed into a semi on the freeway outside town. The police found later that the silver 1993 Buick's brake lines had been snipped jaggedly but in two, probably with a small pair of pliars or kitchen scissors. The tiny ballet drop-out's body had sailed gracefully out the windshield, colliding with the back of the truck, before landing beautifully on the icy asphalt with the sounds of glass shattering substituting for applause.

That was Janie's final performance, and Leona was still disappointed over not seeing it from a closer view. With a toss of those rioutous auburn curls, the ends in desperate need of a trim, she shut off the sink and walked out, tiny droplets of water dripping from those disastrous fingers the only evidence of her presence that afternoon.

[(Anonymous)]

sorry, title should have been "Calmly"

and the typos here are uuuuugh-worthy!

[springinstep.livejournal.com]

Title: Untitled (http://dh-chan.livejournal.com/27041.html)
Fandom/original: Original
Rating: PG
Word count: 581

[wishfics.livejournal.com]

Title: "Four Months too Late" ( http://wishfics.livejournal.com/17777.html )
Fandom/original: Hannah Montana
Characters: Leslie "Jake" Ryan x Miley Stewart
Rating: K / G
Word count: 529