Christmas Challenge
Dec. 7th, 2010 12:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
spydacarnage.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsOkay, so this is my first post here, so if it's crap, tell me, and I'll give up now... Apologies on the word count not being high enough, but hey, what can I say, I'm a novice...
This sort of fits with one of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_crimsonearth's requests, but it's also in keeping with chronicle...
Christmas Day. His first one since returning from Arcadia. A sliver of light from the first dawn peeks through a small gap in the curtains. As he carefully slides himself out from under the duvet, he glances over at the clock – 8:04.
‘Eight o’clock?’ he thinks to himself, ‘How’d I manage that? Never slept past five in the past.’ He chuckles quietly to himself. ‘Must be getting old, after all...’
He places the cover back on the bed until only the flowing locks of his sleeping companion can be seen, glistening in the sunlight. Blowing her a silent kiss, he creeps out of the bedroom and pulls the door to behind him.
Into the kitchen he goes and sets himself to work. Coffee and water into the percolator: check. Bread in the toaster: check. Fresh grapefruit, halved and segmented: check. Put the tray together, cutlery and crockery, a single red rose in a small vase: check. Now, while he waits, he opens a drawer and from right at the back, he retrieves the small jewellery store box he stashes there earlier in the week. Just one last check, to be sure. He opens the box and removes the protective padding. Sat in the box, sparkling in the light, lay a small rose crystal eagle, soaring in flight; a delicate silver chain trailing off beside it. He takes in the sight for a few seconds more before replacing the packaging back together and dropping the box into a small gift bag. He reads the tag to himself. ‘To the one true beauty in this world. All my love, Jake.’ The bag gets placed on the tray alongside the other objects.
The toaster ejects its bounty and he is quick to continue his preparations. Taking the toast, he carefully trims the squares into heart shapes before placing them into the rack on the tray. ‘Still can’t get used to being called Jake.’ He couldn’t remember which film he was watching on the television when he decided that was the name he would use in the real world. It all seemed like such a long time ago, though in reality it hadn’t been even a couple of months.
His mother always used to say, ‘Time flies when you’re having fun’, but he never believed her. Not until now, anyway. Was it really only a month ago, standing behind the bar in the Four Crowns, learning how to put together a 'Sex on the Beach'... He was brought back to the present by a click from the coffee machine signalling it was ready. Adding the freshly brewed pot to the tray, he’s almost ready. Jam for the toast, milk for the coffee, and it’s all done.
He takes a deep breath. ‘Compose yourself, man,’ he thinks to himself,’ it’ll be fine...’
He picks up the tray and quietly walks back to the bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot. The tell-tale shape of the bedcovers shows that it is still occupied. A silent sigh of relief – stage one successful. He walks around the bed and places the tray down on the cabinet next to it, the quiet rattle of the cutlery instantly provoking a movement beneath the covers. She’ll be waking soon.
He quickly scampers back around to his side of the bed and climbs back in. More movement, this time turning to face the smell of the food drifting across the room. Finally, sliding across the bed, he presses himself up against the back of his bed companion, wraps his arm around her waist and gently kisses the back of her neck. As she stirs into consciousness, he whispers in her ear, “Happy Christmas, Amara. Looks like Santa’s been...”
‘Christmas is a time for hope’, Phoenix thought as he woke from his dream. ‘Maybe next year...’
This sort of fits with one of
_crimsonearth's requests, but it's also in keeping with chronicle...Christmas Day. His first one since returning from Arcadia. A sliver of light from the first dawn peeks through a small gap in the curtains. As he carefully slides himself out from under the duvet, he glances over at the clock – 8:04.
‘Eight o’clock?’ he thinks to himself, ‘How’d I manage that? Never slept past five in the past.’ He chuckles quietly to himself. ‘Must be getting old, after all...’
He places the cover back on the bed until only the flowing locks of his sleeping companion can be seen, glistening in the sunlight. Blowing her a silent kiss, he creeps out of the bedroom and pulls the door to behind him.
Into the kitchen he goes and sets himself to work. Coffee and water into the percolator: check. Bread in the toaster: check. Fresh grapefruit, halved and segmented: check. Put the tray together, cutlery and crockery, a single red rose in a small vase: check. Now, while he waits, he opens a drawer and from right at the back, he retrieves the small jewellery store box he stashes there earlier in the week. Just one last check, to be sure. He opens the box and removes the protective padding. Sat in the box, sparkling in the light, lay a small rose crystal eagle, soaring in flight; a delicate silver chain trailing off beside it. He takes in the sight for a few seconds more before replacing the packaging back together and dropping the box into a small gift bag. He reads the tag to himself. ‘To the one true beauty in this world. All my love, Jake.’ The bag gets placed on the tray alongside the other objects.
The toaster ejects its bounty and he is quick to continue his preparations. Taking the toast, he carefully trims the squares into heart shapes before placing them into the rack on the tray. ‘Still can’t get used to being called Jake.’ He couldn’t remember which film he was watching on the television when he decided that was the name he would use in the real world. It all seemed like such a long time ago, though in reality it hadn’t been even a couple of months.
His mother always used to say, ‘Time flies when you’re having fun’, but he never believed her. Not until now, anyway. Was it really only a month ago, standing behind the bar in the Four Crowns, learning how to put together a 'Sex on the Beach'... He was brought back to the present by a click from the coffee machine signalling it was ready. Adding the freshly brewed pot to the tray, he’s almost ready. Jam for the toast, milk for the coffee, and it’s all done.
He takes a deep breath. ‘Compose yourself, man,’ he thinks to himself,’ it’ll be fine...’
He picks up the tray and quietly walks back to the bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot. The tell-tale shape of the bedcovers shows that it is still occupied. A silent sigh of relief – stage one successful. He walks around the bed and places the tray down on the cabinet next to it, the quiet rattle of the cutlery instantly provoking a movement beneath the covers. She’ll be waking soon.
He quickly scampers back around to his side of the bed and climbs back in. More movement, this time turning to face the smell of the food drifting across the room. Finally, sliding across the bed, he presses himself up against the back of his bed companion, wraps his arm around her waist and gently kisses the back of her neck. As she stirs into consciousness, he whispers in her ear, “Happy Christmas, Amara. Looks like Santa’s been...”
‘Christmas is a time for hope’, Phoenix thought as he woke from his dream. ‘Maybe next year...’
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no subject
Date: 2010-12-07 12:55 am (UTC)That's lovely Mark. ^_^
(And it was a Sex on the Beach, *actually*) :P
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Date: 2010-12-07 09:06 am (UTC)