Idol Mini: "Devastated"
Oct. 17th, 2024 10:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
halfshellvenusDevastated
Idol Mini | Week 12 | 873 words
From The Wreckage
x-x-x-x-x
Sally woke up feeling groggy and headachy.
God, it's dark, she thought.
Why was it so dark? It had been warm and sunny that morning. What happened?
Sally frowned. I must be getting old. She'd heard the stories– you'd lie down for one little nap, and the next thing you knew, it was nighttime. She must have slept the day away, not that she'd had any plans or anything, but still…
It was quiet, too. That wasn't terribly unusual, given how late in the day it was, but it was a big household. Someone was usually up, even if it was just Janice, the family cat.
Sally was only half awake, but she figured she might as well drag herself up off the sofa and go to bed. She started to sit up, but discovered that she couldn't.
It feels like something's weighing me down, she thought. Something massive, like a dining room table or even half a house. It's so heavy! Sally tried to wiggle her arm, but could barely move it in either direction. The other arm was no better.
This isn't funny!
It wasn't just her arms. Her legs were stuck too, and the front of her throat felt tight, as if Janice were lying on it. But there was no purring, and no tickly fur threatening her nose, so Sally knew it wasn't Janice.
It couldn't be Ricky, the youngest of the Westover children. He was ten years old, and he was Sally's nemesis. But he was also incapable of going more than two minutes without giggling, especially when he was doing something obnoxious. If it were Ricky, Sally would have heard him by now, but it was as quiet as ever.
At that point, Sally noticed that everything also seemed to be wet. The sofa was damp and her clothes were soaked. She wrinkled her nose and shivered. Ugh, how disgusting!
Where was everyone? Sally could've really used some help getting free. "Katie, are you here?" she called. "Liam?" she added, and then finally whispered, "Ricky?"
There was no reply.
Maybe they're stuck, too, she thought. I guess it's up to me.
Sally took a deep breath and tried to pull one of her legs free. It only moved a tiny bit, but even that was encouraging. She did it again, struggling to wriggle her way loose as she pulled.
That's better! I can feel it moving. She tried again and again and again.
Little by little, Sally felt herself breaking free of the squishy mass piled on top of her. She got one leg loose, and then finally an arm. Then she tried to push some of the debris away, and felt it give a little. Progress!
Squirming and straining, she made her way to an open pocket inside the wreckage, and paused to catch her breath. There was a faint glow of light up above her. When she was ready, she started moving toward it. Slowly, she managed to work herself free, clearing her way through the soggy, clinging mess like a swimmer stroking toward a distant surface.
Finally, her head was out in the open. She looked around in shock.
Hundreds of household items were strewn everywhere, as far as the eye could see. It was an impossible mess, utterly horrible. Oh, this is heartbreaking, Sally thought. Scads of seagulls shrieked across the wreckage, as if they knew there was enough despair available to feed entire flocks.
It was the most terrible thing Sally had ever seen. How was a person supposed to recover from something like that?
She struggled to free herself, until she was teetering on top of the wreckage. She climbed down carefully, still dazed by the devastation around her. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. The chaos was exhausting.
Sally decided to go in search of an explanation. She set off cautiously, mindful of the tripping hazards everywhere.
On and on she walked, growing grouchier and more tired with each passing minute. Her thoughts turned to injustices and broken promises, to everything that had ever gone wrong for her over the years.
All of the anger and darkness she'd pushed down for so long rose up inside her as she trudged down the sidewalk for what seemed like hours. There was rage in her heart and an evil glint in her eye, and it felt like coming home.
Finally, she reached the house she was looking for. She stood on the doorstep, glaring up at it. Her flaxen curls gleamed in the sun, apart from where they were slimed with salsa and avocado. There were coffee grounds on her lace collar, and pieces of orange peel clung to the front of her blue velvet dress.
Sally marched up the doorstep and kicked the door repeatedly with her tiny, scuffed, patent-leather shoes. "Open up!" she yelled shrilly.
She could hear footsteps approaching, as she waited to see who would answer the door.
Throw me away, will you? she fumed. Like I'm just some tired old used-up toy!
She'd been quiet for years, hardly giving a hint of her true power. But those days were over now.
The Westovers were going to pay.
–/–
If you enjoyed this story, PLEASE VOTE FOR IT and any of your other favorites at the poll here.
Idol Mini | Week 12 | 873 words
From The Wreckage
x-x-x-x-x
Sally woke up feeling groggy and headachy.
God, it's dark, she thought.
Why was it so dark? It had been warm and sunny that morning. What happened?
Sally frowned. I must be getting old. She'd heard the stories– you'd lie down for one little nap, and the next thing you knew, it was nighttime. She must have slept the day away, not that she'd had any plans or anything, but still…
It was quiet, too. That wasn't terribly unusual, given how late in the day it was, but it was a big household. Someone was usually up, even if it was just Janice, the family cat.
Sally was only half awake, but she figured she might as well drag herself up off the sofa and go to bed. She started to sit up, but discovered that she couldn't.
It feels like something's weighing me down, she thought. Something massive, like a dining room table or even half a house. It's so heavy! Sally tried to wiggle her arm, but could barely move it in either direction. The other arm was no better.
This isn't funny!
It wasn't just her arms. Her legs were stuck too, and the front of her throat felt tight, as if Janice were lying on it. But there was no purring, and no tickly fur threatening her nose, so Sally knew it wasn't Janice.
It couldn't be Ricky, the youngest of the Westover children. He was ten years old, and he was Sally's nemesis. But he was also incapable of going more than two minutes without giggling, especially when he was doing something obnoxious. If it were Ricky, Sally would have heard him by now, but it was as quiet as ever.
At that point, Sally noticed that everything also seemed to be wet. The sofa was damp and her clothes were soaked. She wrinkled her nose and shivered. Ugh, how disgusting!
Where was everyone? Sally could've really used some help getting free. "Katie, are you here?" she called. "Liam?" she added, and then finally whispered, "Ricky?"
There was no reply.
Maybe they're stuck, too, she thought. I guess it's up to me.
Sally took a deep breath and tried to pull one of her legs free. It only moved a tiny bit, but even that was encouraging. She did it again, struggling to wriggle her way loose as she pulled.
That's better! I can feel it moving. She tried again and again and again.
Little by little, Sally felt herself breaking free of the squishy mass piled on top of her. She got one leg loose, and then finally an arm. Then she tried to push some of the debris away, and felt it give a little. Progress!
Squirming and straining, she made her way to an open pocket inside the wreckage, and paused to catch her breath. There was a faint glow of light up above her. When she was ready, she started moving toward it. Slowly, she managed to work herself free, clearing her way through the soggy, clinging mess like a swimmer stroking toward a distant surface.
Finally, her head was out in the open. She looked around in shock.
Hundreds of household items were strewn everywhere, as far as the eye could see. It was an impossible mess, utterly horrible. Oh, this is heartbreaking, Sally thought. Scads of seagulls shrieked across the wreckage, as if they knew there was enough despair available to feed entire flocks.
It was the most terrible thing Sally had ever seen. How was a person supposed to recover from something like that?
She struggled to free herself, until she was teetering on top of the wreckage. She climbed down carefully, still dazed by the devastation around her. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. The chaos was exhausting.
Sally decided to go in search of an explanation. She set off cautiously, mindful of the tripping hazards everywhere.
On and on she walked, growing grouchier and more tired with each passing minute. Her thoughts turned to injustices and broken promises, to everything that had ever gone wrong for her over the years.
All of the anger and darkness she'd pushed down for so long rose up inside her as she trudged down the sidewalk for what seemed like hours. There was rage in her heart and an evil glint in her eye, and it felt like coming home.
Finally, she reached the house she was looking for. She stood on the doorstep, glaring up at it. Her flaxen curls gleamed in the sun, apart from where they were slimed with salsa and avocado. There were coffee grounds on her lace collar, and pieces of orange peel clung to the front of her blue velvet dress.
Sally marched up the doorstep and kicked the door repeatedly with her tiny, scuffed, patent-leather shoes. "Open up!" she yelled shrilly.
She could hear footsteps approaching, as she waited to see who would answer the door.
Throw me away, will you? she fumed. Like I'm just some tired old used-up toy!
She'd been quiet for years, hardly giving a hint of her true power. But those days were over now.
The Westovers were going to pay.
–/–
If you enjoyed this story, PLEASE VOTE FOR IT and any of your other favorites at the poll here.
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Date: 2024-10-22 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-22 09:17 pm (UTC)