World, Mostly Turning

The prompt this week at open_on_sunday was 'writing'. This makes three weeks of drabbles in row for me - truly, I am a writing machine.

~*~
Halfrek shuddered. It had been a horrible evening. First she’d had to pose as a stuffy Victorian, attend a tedious party, and wait hours for her target to make a wish. Then, as if that hadn’t been enough, that insipid little man – William, was it? – had made calf eyes at her all night and, in a woefully misguided attempt at flattery, had composed a perfectly dreadful poem about her.

It was at times like these that Halfrek was grateful to have ascended from merely human to a vengeance demon – it was far better to be righting wrongs than writing them.

For open_on_sunday, on time! Happy Halloween to all my flist.

Title: Night of the New Moon
Rating: G

Jordy watched his cousin in awe. He'd been away a long time – Tibet, he said – learning not only to control his demon but to bring it forth at will. He was hunched over now, his eyes shut, breathing deeply and whispering strange-sounding phrases. In response, muscles clenched and swelled, brown tufts of fur sprouted on face and hands, and nails lengthened into jagged claws. The incantation ceased; the grin that split the monstrous face was filled with fangs, but Oz's eyes smiled reassuringly at him from beneath the heavy brow.

Whoa – his friends were gonna freak! Best Halloween costume ever!

I got Runner-Up at the RDAs. :-)



Title: Beneath Her
Rating: PG-13

William had to leave the party early. Cecily had been there again, looking wondrous and alluring in a gown of silk and taffeta. The pearls around her neck accentuated the daring décolletage of her dress and the lush curves of her bosom. Her comeliness sent shivers of delight to his nether regions, leaving him breathless and more than a little embarrassed by their reaction.

He lay in bed, consumed by sinful thoughts and wicked desire. He imagined her above him, wearing nothing but her pearls, pressing her warmth and softness against him.

William groaned. He yearned to be beneath her.

***

Congrats to all the other RDA Round 1 winners - there were some mighty fine stories entered.

Title: Dianthus barbatus
Setting: Post-Chosen
Rating: G

In the days following the final battle, Buffy missed him often. She tried not to dwell on it, but small things constantly reminded her: The smell of leather, blond hair glimpsed in a crowd, a curling trail of cigarette smoke.

She came to the Farmer's Market to clear her mind of pain and death, and immerse herself in the bustling profusion of life. The smiling faces, wholesome foods, and enticing aromas cheered her. An arrangement of old-fashioned, brightly coloured flowers caught her attention. She reached for the tag and gasped as her eyes flooded with tears.

Dianthus barbatus

Sweet William.

Written for crackers4jenn for her birthday. Season 2 Spuffy is a challenge!

Title: And So It Began
Setting: During School Hard, BtVS Season 2
Rating: G

He found her in a club filled with teenagers and a band playing moody songs. Through the crowded room, he knew her immediately. She beckoned to him. Her light called to his darkness. He moved closer and the nearness of her flooded his senses. He could see only her, hear only her, smell only her. He yearned to fight her. He could already taste her.

He watched as she rose from her seat and began to sway in slow rhythm with the music.

"I'm one step away from crashing to my knees,
One step away..."

Their dance had just begun.

[A/N: Lyrics are from Stupid Thing by Nickel - it was the song that the band in the Bronze was playing during the scene in School Hard when Spike first saw Buffy - interesting, if unintentional, foreshadowing!]

This one took me less than two days to write! Whoo! But I still couldn't think of a title.


Setting: Sometime post-Grave
Rating: PG

Buffy sighed and wondered if she’d ever feel normal again. She was as big as a whale. None of her real clothes fit and everything new hung on her like a pup tent. She had to pee every twenty minutes. Her desire for weird food combinations left even Dawn in awe. (Sardines and chocolate sauce? Where had that come from?) No longer could she sprint through cemeteries in pursuit of demons; all she could manage now was a sedate and distinctly unslayer-like waddle.

Cold dead seed, her ass. She was going to kill Spike the next time she saw him.

Two drabbles in three weeks. I am a writing machine!


Title: But For The Grace of God...
Setting: BtVS Season 7
Rating: G

Giles swore under his breath in frustration. Hayley, the newly found Potential at his side, regarded him worriedly. The ticket agent merely looked resigned.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that flight is full. Quantas has a non-stop flight leaving Sydney for Los Angeles tomorrow at 8 am. There are still two seats available – I can book those for you if you’d like."

Swallowing his impatience, Giles nodded and handed the agent his credit card. They’d just have to wait until morning.

It was several days before they heard that Oceanic Flight 815 had been lost, all passengers missing and presumed dead.


(A/N: This is, of course, a sort of crossover with the series Lost. It was such an obvious choice that I just couldn't help myself.)

Just to prove that I do know poems other than those by Ogden Nash... Pretty sure I'm not the only one who had this thought.

Title: King of Kings
Setting: AtS Shells
Rating: G

Wesley dives through the portal to Vahla ha'Nesh and lands painfully on a stone floor. Ahead of him, Illyria strides down the steps to her temple.

“You're too late. My army will rise. This world will be mine once again.”

Struggling to his feet, he follows. He finds her on her knees, her face a mixture of shock and desolation. She gazes upon the broken columns, the shattered statue, and the dusty remains of her once-mighty army. Sand falls through her fingers.

“My world is gone.”

Wesley surveys the ruins and whispers quietly, “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings...”



Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Title: Parsley Is Gharsely
Setting: BtVS, sometime in S1-S3
Rating: G

Giles emerged from his office and passed Xander at the library table engrossed in a book. Wait... Xander reading a book?

Maybe there was hope for the lad after all.

"Xander, what’s that you have there?"

"Huh? Oh – it’s a book of poetry."

"Poetry." Giles beamed. "Tennyson? Browning? Shelley?"

"Ogden Nash. Hee - listen:

Tell me, O Octopus, I begs,
Is those things arms, or is they legs?
I marvel at thee, Octopus;
If I were thou, I’d call me us."

Giles’s head drooped. He continued on his way.

"Or how about this: God in His wisdom made the fly..."



[Author's Note: That last one finishes with

'And then forgot to tell us why.'

I also tried to use this one, but it was too long:

The Perfect Husband

He tells you when you’ve got on too much lipstick,
And helps you with your girdle when your hips stick.

I love Ogden Nash. :-)]

Lord, sometimes it's hard to get these things out. I don't know what's going on with my brain, but it just does *not* want to string words together in a pleasant way these days. I seem to have a serious case of writer's blech.

Anyway, hopefully this one's not too awful. The title is also a David Bowie song title (duh).


Title: A Small Plot of Land
Rating: PG
Setting: Way, way pre-BtVS and Angel

In life, she’d never had anything she could call her own. Not the beautiful rooms or gowns in which she was displayed. Her body belonged to the man who sold her and was shared among the men who hired her. Even her name had been lost in the confusion of indifference, despair, and disease.

In death, however, things were different. She looked at her grave – a small plot of land, it was all that had ever been hers and hers alone. Then she smiled and took the hand of the ancient vampire who was going to give her the world.