January 13th, 2011
|09:21 am - More Joy Days: Day #1, with the start of a Stonewood story|
What ho! It's the beginning of More Joy Day(s), I do believe!
Now, mamculuna , janus_74 , and ljrags all asked for ficlet(s), and it seemed that the Stonewoods would not be unwelcome. So...one story, three short installments. ;-) Here is the first part, offered in the hopes that it brings joy.
There is something wrong with the snow, Alice thinks.
She stands at the end of her and Morgan's street and gazes at the white on white on green, the sheet over the sidewalks and lanes, the coverlet over branches and shrubs. The old grief she felt on the day of the snow still beats softly under the muffling effect of the past few days' work, but that isn't the problem she senses.
But she can't quite work it out.
The snow seems untouched since her walk to the credit union that morning. Because a mere school cancellation wasn't enough to stop her darling from work, she and Morgan had gone out onto the street together hand in hand, through the grey and cloud. It isn't perhaps surprising that they have left no tracks. Yet why are there no other marks, even from the neighbor children wild as wolves, or the indefatigable Mrs Jenkins next door, who did her daily constitutional with her walker in all weathers...
"My heart," says Morgan from behind her, and then his hands come around her waist and beyond, his breath stirs her hair, and she is enfolded in overcoat and warmth.
"Morgan," she says, and takes a moment to rest with him.
He nuzzles the tip of her ear, which is just peeping below her hat. So he had done the day they'd left their old life, there by the river over the sea. First comes the sweetness, and then the bite--
Yes. Sharp teeth, gently wielded but there. "Why do you stand here so pensive in the cold, Alice?"
"Waiting for you," she says, and then, "Do you see anything wrong?"
The passage from Principal Morgan Stonewood to Guild-man Morgan happens in a breath: he releases her, takes a step forward, puts out one gloved hand to the air. He breathes. Then he curses under his breath.
"What?" she says, putting her hand on his back. Old angers and disappointments thrum through their connection --
But he's off, leaping over the snow, shouting, "You bloody idiot!"
Wishing for a dagger against this unforeseen incursion, whatever it is, she follows.
The hedge-gate is unlatched. Morgan blows it open with a word, and as she passes, she sees an old wine bottle upended in the snow. Red droplets scatter across the white like blood-marks on linen.... Oh, so that is what it is, she thinks, and laughs out loud even though it's not entirely funny.
Morgan charges over the unmarked snow of their lawn. The oldest, tallest ash is his target. Once he's a few feet away, he throws up a hand and shouts, "Release the sodding fool, o friend!"
A rustle; a fall of snow; a fall of a long lean male body, with a rich, deep chuckle drifting down afterward like a leaf in autumn.
"Rhys," Morgan says. Snarls.
The man in the snow, Morgan's copy yet somehow blurred around the edges, smiles. "Now, now, is that any way to greet your brother?"
|Date:||January 13th, 2011 02:42 pm (UTC)|| |
Thank you, A, and more joy to you!
The brother! This should be fun :)
I've been giving some thought to Rhys. ;-)
More joy, T!
|Date:||January 13th, 2011 02:59 pm (UTC)|| |
Joy to you, too!
:-) Can't wait for more!
Hugs and thanks and more joy, H_P! More of this tomorrow, too. :-)
Now that is joy! Creepy, sexy, scary joy!
Thank you thank you! We will continue with more joy tomorrow. :-)
Happiness to you today!
|Date:||January 13th, 2011 05:18 pm (UTC)|| |
Thank you, L, thank you and hugs and more joy!
Ooooh! A promising start indeed! :-)
Thank you thank you, A, and joy to you as well. :-)
Oh, worth reading backwards to find this...delicious!
Thank you, ALH, thank you. :-) And more joy to you!
Thank you thank you, Stevie, and more joy to you! :-)
The description of snow made me think of closed up rooms and covered furniture, things put away and past.
Oh, interesting! And I think you're right about snow in the woods, or in a small town like the Stonewoods, in the way it closes in rather than expands. (Snow on the prairies would work differently.)
Thank you thank you, S, for smart observations and for reading!