http://nachtegael.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
nachtegael.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
writetomyheart2015-10-11 01:14 pm
nachtegael.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2015-10-11 01:14 pm
Entry tags:
[ Team One ] Procrastinating Dreams
So if this doesn't make much sense, that's cause it's a sketch for something longer I might write later....
She catches herself almost smiling when an old snapshot of Jinri veers up on screen. Man, Amber thinks as she scrubs sticky fingers through her hair, I've got to clean out the folders on this desktop. The apple core rusting with oxidation next to the keyboard grins a wizened smile of agreement, black eyes unblinking in their seed casing.
But not now, tomorrow, she decides, shoving the tray that balances her keyboard and sometimes a TV dinner back under the desk. She pulls another apple from the fridge and slices into the smooth skin with her teeth. The house is dark except for the computer screen still cycling through old photos in the kitchen, but Amber knows her way down the hall without a light.
She used to play pirates with Jackie when they were kids, two eye patches snipped from black construction paper slung over her head with yellow yarn. They made them on story day at the public library, but Jackie let her sister wear both of theirs. A pirate patch would have smudged her eyeliner, she said, but Amber knew she was just being nice.
Amber would stumble along the walls, squinting behind the thin paper so as not to accidentally "cheat" if some light got through the cracks as she waved a tree branch sword. Now she doesn't need any patches to block out the light, to feel absorbed into the soft darkness. She closes her eyes and feels her way through the tunnel of picture frames Jackie arranged like a mosaic of memories on the walls.
In the master bedroom Amber flips on the light, but only one of the fluorescent bulbs overhead blinks hello. It sputters into a steady glow like a candle guttering in reverse, but the light is weak enough Amber knows she'll have to replace it soon.
Eh, might as well wait until they both burn out to change them, she thinks with a shrug. She'll unscrew the glass plate from the fixture and wipe out the insect carcasses while she's at it, probably sometime next week, or whenever Lombardi doesn't have her working double shifts every night.
Even though it's dark, it's no longer night. It's that blurry time of day, when 2 AM bleeds into 3, but Amber doesn't trust the numbers on the clock anymore than she trusts her eyes to read them. The whole world is too molten with shadows to read anything just now. She lays her half eaten apple on a paperback pillow on the nightstand, giving Kant's Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals a wistful pat on its spine.
She realizes, pulling back the sheets with her sticky fingers, that she's forgotten to brush her teeth. The bathroom is too far away now, miles and miles away through thickets of blurry shadows, and her bed is right here, sagging mattress melting under her bony knees in the cushioning dark. Eating a carrot or apple is almost as good as brushing your teeth with fluoride, she thinks she remembers Aunt Lucy saying at lunch the other day, so Amber lets a yawn pull her under the flow of dark waters and sinks into the current of sleep.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispers.
"Sweet dreams, angel," comes the exhalation across her face.
Amber shivers and pulls the covers over her ears. She'll deal with Jinri's ghost in the morning.
Tagging![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dusk037
She catches herself almost smiling when an old snapshot of Jinri veers up on screen. Man, Amber thinks as she scrubs sticky fingers through her hair, I've got to clean out the folders on this desktop. The apple core rusting with oxidation next to the keyboard grins a wizened smile of agreement, black eyes unblinking in their seed casing.
But not now, tomorrow, she decides, shoving the tray that balances her keyboard and sometimes a TV dinner back under the desk. She pulls another apple from the fridge and slices into the smooth skin with her teeth. The house is dark except for the computer screen still cycling through old photos in the kitchen, but Amber knows her way down the hall without a light.
She used to play pirates with Jackie when they were kids, two eye patches snipped from black construction paper slung over her head with yellow yarn. They made them on story day at the public library, but Jackie let her sister wear both of theirs. A pirate patch would have smudged her eyeliner, she said, but Amber knew she was just being nice.
Amber would stumble along the walls, squinting behind the thin paper so as not to accidentally "cheat" if some light got through the cracks as she waved a tree branch sword. Now she doesn't need any patches to block out the light, to feel absorbed into the soft darkness. She closes her eyes and feels her way through the tunnel of picture frames Jackie arranged like a mosaic of memories on the walls.
In the master bedroom Amber flips on the light, but only one of the fluorescent bulbs overhead blinks hello. It sputters into a steady glow like a candle guttering in reverse, but the light is weak enough Amber knows she'll have to replace it soon.
Eh, might as well wait until they both burn out to change them, she thinks with a shrug. She'll unscrew the glass plate from the fixture and wipe out the insect carcasses while she's at it, probably sometime next week, or whenever Lombardi doesn't have her working double shifts every night.
Even though it's dark, it's no longer night. It's that blurry time of day, when 2 AM bleeds into 3, but Amber doesn't trust the numbers on the clock anymore than she trusts her eyes to read them. The whole world is too molten with shadows to read anything just now. She lays her half eaten apple on a paperback pillow on the nightstand, giving Kant's Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals a wistful pat on its spine.
She realizes, pulling back the sheets with her sticky fingers, that she's forgotten to brush her teeth. The bathroom is too far away now, miles and miles away through thickets of blurry shadows, and her bed is right here, sagging mattress melting under her bony knees in the cushioning dark. Eating a carrot or apple is almost as good as brushing your teeth with fluoride, she thinks she remembers Aunt Lucy saying at lunch the other day, so Amber lets a yawn pull her under the flow of dark waters and sinks into the current of sleep.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispers.
"Sweet dreams, angel," comes the exhalation across her face.
Amber shivers and pulls the covers over her ears. She'll deal with Jinri's ghost in the morning.
Tagging
dusk037
no subject
no subject
Tags have been edited accordingly
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Love this ☆彡
no subject