MEME: Apocalypse Drabbles

[girlalmighty]

Tag your characters into the meme, and leave each other either prompts or drabbles, as the mood moves you. What would happen to your characters and others in the event of an apocalypse? (The kind of apocalypse is wholly up to you.)

Of course, we all know sometimes the inspiration just isn't there, so try not to take it personally if someone just doesn't get to your prompt. The more prompts you give, the more likely you are to get!

Comments

[likeaplanet]

When shit goes bad, it doesn't happen all at once. It's a slow, tedious descent. We have time to think about it, to really understand the kind of shit that's in store for us, that no amount of preparing will protect us from. And eventually, the only solace any of us have left is distraction. And those of us that have means of escape have to hide it, snatching guilty moments of peace and telling ourselves it's okay not to share. There's just not enough to go around.

I'm able to keep it from him, when I start to break the rules. At least for a while. The first time I walk through a door and find myself looking down at a pair of little girls with corn-silk hair, I'm smart enough to keep it to myself. Then, it becomes a game I play with myself. When I start to build, it happens naturally. Organically. Rooms and hallways to house moments. People. Places. Walls and doors and locks to keep them safe. Places I can visit, discover all over again, relive when the memories start to fade.

By the time I realize he's noticed, he's known for a long time.

"This has to stop."

I look up and it takes me a full minute to realize that he shouldn't be standing there, leaning in the doorway of Wendy Peterson's childhood bedroom, looking somehow too large and out of place. She's sprawled on the bed, a joint burning between her lips, and when he speaks, she doesn't look his way. They... my projections. They hardly notice him anymore.

"This has to stop," he says again, and it's rare for me to hear worry in his voice. Rarer for me to hear pain. I think maybe I'm hearing both.

"Fuck you," I laugh, reaching over to claim the joint from Wendy, taking in a deep drag that just doesn't quite have the bite to it that it should. "You tell me what's out there worth waking up for and I'll stop. Just one fucking thing."

He steps forward and I hold the joint out to him, expecting him to take it, but instead, his hand reaches up to touch my cheek, and I expect it to feel warm and alive, the way it always did, but it doesn't. It feels muted, distant and already pulling away.

"Goodbye, darling," he says and it's not until he's turning to walk away that I realize I can't remember his name. Whatever room I put that in, I lost a while back.

Hell, maybe he never told it to me at all.

[eternaldaisy]

WHY

[thetinydemon]

Because I love you? XD