Just Another Blog

my random ramblings about crafts, writing, books and kids

Original Fic: Sunset (the story)

This the first original (non-fanfic) story I’ve written since NaNo 2009.  I wrote a rather pointless sci-fi adventure that year.  It’s completely unfinished (maybe I’ll put up some snippets of it for fun… it never had a real plot).

Anyway.  This piece stems from a story I thought up many years ago.  I absolutely fell in love with the characters and have been unable to write any of the story down because, frankly, I couldn’t decide on which plot to use for them.  So last night I was thinking about my characters and decided to use the skills I’ve learned writing fanfic to use.  So I’m just writing snippets of scenes with the characters in them.  They are just random and most likely not connecting in any meaningful way right now.  I’m sure I’ll add in some longer stories later to fill out their lives.  I’m hoping eventually all the stories together will build a background for them for when I eventually get around to writing a full novel.

If anyone wants a little background on the characters just ask but I think it’ll be more fun to find out about them by reading the stories.  I’m also posting them like I do my fanfic just for simplicity sake (I use a template when I type them up).

Sunset
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
original
Sarah Logan
708 words
rating: PG
WARNINGS:

Sarah misses home.

There’s not much that she recalls from that time in her life. A good year of time is mostly fuzzy with glimpses of stark color thrown in for dramatic effect. But Sarah remembers the wind, cool and harsh, on her skin very vividly. Smells, tastes, sights… they’re all lost in the haze of trauma and wanting to forget. Sounds were distant rumbles of noise, like traffic rolling over the interstate. But the breeze she remembers, chilling her to the bone.

Or maybe that was the shock. It doesn’t really matter because that’s what she remembers. It’s what she’d like to forget now but knows she never will because it is forever tied in her mind to one of the bleakest, darkest times of her life. She shivers slightly, pulling her jacket tighter around her and watches the horizon, waiting for that moment when the distant sun touches the land with a brilliant blast of color before dipping quickly out of sight.

It’s a nightly ritual she observes without fail, climbing to the roof of her house through an attic window. Rory doesn’t understand. He’s accused of her of being crazy in the past. Sarah wonders if he will finally give up on her and leave. She doesn’t think it really makes a difference now.

The sun creeps down and the air shifts, pushing her greasy hair into her face. She didn’t have time to shower after work tonight. It makes no difference to her. She pushes the lock back behind her ear and waits. She really can’t see when the sun meets the Earth. Too many houses and trees and other random things in the way. A “V” of geese glide by overhead and she follows them with her eyes as they disappear into the clouds. She’s pretty sure they’re supposed to be flying south for the winter but they seem to be heading north. Stupid geese.

She snorts. Isn’t that what she did? she thinks… fly the wrong way thinking she was going the right way. It sort of makes a little sense in her head but she’s tired and probably going crazy. The air here in Arizona isn’t like the air back home. It’s not cool and refreshing (or terrifying as her memories try to make it). No, the air here is hot and prickles her skin. Even at sunset it’s barely cooled to a sultry 90 degrees. She shivers anyway as it washes over her skin. She misses home. Misses the mountains and the cool summers and mild winters. She misses fresh apples from her yard and marionberry preserves. And she misses sitting out on the Harper’s Road cutoff and watching the sun go down over Vancouver, knowing that in the distance it’s converging with the Pacific. Arizona is nothing like Southwest Washington.

Eventually the world grows dark and the air cools. Sarah really doesn’t notice, she’s already too cold inside. She reluctantly gets to her feet and maneuvers back to the window and climbs in. Rory is somewhere in the house, probably watching some sporting event and shaking his head at his wife’s crazy habits. As she closes the window, reeling in the stifling heat of the attic crawlspace, a fleeting image of a young man with untamed hair and cold, dark eyes drifts into her thoughts. Her immediate reflex is to push it away but after a second she realizes the memory is almost wanted, almost comforting in some absurd, unimaginably twisted way. She closes her eyes and for a brief moment she can feel his hand on her arm, his breath hot and moist in her ear. She can feel the words rolling from him, his body vibrating with every syllable and an electric surge runs down her spine.

Clutching her jacket even tighter she shakes of the image and heads back downstairs to her life. Her nice, normal, quiet life. The one she insisted she needed when she left home in the first place. The life that held almost nothing for her now. She wonders why this is all coming up at this moment but doesn’t dwell on it as she starts dinner for Rory while he watches his precious Diamondbacks hopefully winning so he’ll be in a good mood tonight.

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