Drabble #174: Epic

[jalenstrix]

...we had a nice response to my last posted drabble prompt of Drabble 170, with entries by redwolf, apachefirecat, and me (one of your intrepid drabble proposers, jalenstrix), and commenting by all three of us. Huzzah!

As always, special labyfic love to redwolf for adding entries and comments for several previous drabble prompts. You continue to be the best!





For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:

Epic

What's epic (or who)? Why? How? Where? (All the questions!!! All of them!) Tell us all about it. Labyfic-style, of course.




Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the suggested limit for this month of 500 words. Though remember that shorter pieces are most definitely welcome!

Your entry should take the following format, posted as a comment on this entry:
Word count: # of words
$your_beautiful_drabble


I'll aim to get my next drabble challenge out on the first Tuesday of next month (Oct 1).

I'm also very happy to take suggestions if something in particular strikes your fancy -- comment on this post or PM me with your suggestions. You can see our current collected suggestions here.


Remember: Feedback is LOVE. So do reply to your fellow labyficcers' drabbles if so inclined. (Though be careful of concrit unless specifically okayed by the author beforehand. Authors generally write for love.)

Comments

Detritus

[redwolf]

Word count: 500

The rules for objects being wished away were much looser than they were for people and other sentient creatures. Sarah was personally familiar with the correct words and intent required for the latter, but the former could be achieved with a certain level of frustration, creative swearing and a decent throwing arm.

When she’d first learned about the process, she’d just assumed that the junkyard was the final repository for stray socks and remote controls, but as was always the way of the Labyrinth, things were not as they seemed.

Technically, things did arrive in the junkyard, but rather than immediately becoming refuse, they were triaged by teams that worked around the clock. Items such as remotes and odd socks were returned to the wisher, but it was the goblin's choice as to where they ended up. While there was a restraint that items stayed within a residence, goblins could be creative, although she suspected that the kitchen being a preferred hiding spot had more to do with raiding the pantry than in clever methods of concealment.

Anyone foolish enough to wish away kitchen paraphernalia could be guaranteed of never seeing it again, as the goblins had earmarked all metal cooking implements for armour. While Sarah didn’t personally see the appeal of a colander helmet, she couldn’t help but smile at the delight of a small, sharp fanged goblin who clutching a stainless steel bowl to its chest as if it was a gift of epic proportions.

The things Sarah hadn’t thought about were the objects that were of use to the kingdom. Raw materials didn’t often come their way, but there were always makers and engineers on hand to assess how something more complex could be cannibalised and stripped of its useful parts before the remains were returned Above. There was always a demand for timber, glass and metal. If things weren’t stripped for parts, there was always an interest in the design of anything new and interesting.

Other items of clothing also made their way to the junkyard and were met with the same scrutiny as the hardware. Garments were assessed for design and construction, and if the fabrics or embellishments piqued the interest of the assessors, they met the same fate.

Sarah had also been pleased to learn that the animals that were wished away were safely integrated into the kingdom. While she would have expected disgruntled children wishing away a pet to torture a sibling to be the norm, it tended to lean more towards frustrated hobby farmers who had gotten in over their heads. The assessors had been fascinated by the differing breeds of animals they received based on Above agricultural trends. This explained the llamas, emus and several niche breeds of cattle, but it didn’t explain the cassowary. For the life of her, Sarah could not figure out if it was a pet or livestock, but after one look at the creature she definitely understood why someone would wish it away in pure terror.

Cruel Decisions

[apachefirecat]

Word Count: 500



She holds his face tenderly in her hands, her quivering thumbs gingerly brushing his cheeks. She knows he is thrilled to have white skin now, skin he says is just like his father's -- and he still, as of yet, never means her brother's reincarnated self. He still knows her as his mother, and her husband as his father. Sarah wants to cry. She wants to beg and plead and fight -- whatever it takes -- to bring her baby home to the Underground. But she knows she cannot. The fate that awaits him there, that awaits them all, is so much worse than anything this world may have in store for him.

There will come a time, she knows, when he will start to see Tobias as his father, and his wife as his mother. Gradually, as he grows older and slips into the Age of Not Believing, he will forget her, just as Toby never remembered his venture into the Underground when he was a baby and she a young fifteen of age. He will forget her; he will call these new people his parents. Her own baby Toby, his younger brother, will never remember them. And Davy will forget.

At least, Sarah reminds herself sternly, he will not be a Goblin. She used to promise her little Prince he would have an epic life; here, he can actually grow to be a young, strong, human man. It is almost enough to make her regret her decisions. Behind her, where he stands in the shadows, waiting for her to decide it is time to leave, her husband's silently crying too.

Her head snaps up as she hears her baby's new parents' alarm clock ringing. Jareth hisses, and the alarm silences, but Sarah knows that soon they'll be interrupted. They cannot be found her. Questions cannot be asked. This life will be better for her Davy, and for sweet Toby. She glances behind her oldest child where his brother still sleeps and yearns to be in both places. Life is full of cruel, hard decisions, but she knows where she stands. She made that choice a long, long time ago.

"I could make him remember you, you know."

"No," she whispers, emotions choking her voice.

"Not David. Tobias, the eldest. What he is calling himself these days? Stallone?"

She pauses, purses her lips together, and then finally shakes her head again. "No." She kisses Davy's forehead, then walks to rejoin her husband. "I choose you," she vows, looking up into Jareth's eyes, and remembering what a mirrored reflection Davy's are now. "Forever," she adds, and suddenly recalls what he used to say. It's only forever, not long at all.

It isn't long at all, not when compared to the eternity they should have now, but it is still so hard. It is either forever with her beloved King, or a lifetime with their children. She embraces her husband and lets him take them home, vanishing just before the parents awake.


The End
(Author's Note: Kind of a epilogue to my recent IddyBang, The Curse (and Blessing) of the Goblin King.)

[jalenstrix]

Word count: 342

I simply couldn’t get enough of tracing my fingertips along every inch of him I could touch, currently the lines of his unsheathed fingers and the delicate spaces in between.

Jareth’s voice rolled against my skin like a crackling fire’s warmth. “You know that I am, in fact, real, Sarah my love.”

“Mmmhmm. Forgive me for confirming. It’s been a hellacious pocket dimensional reality without you. Or at least, without this you.” I continued moving my fingers down his knuckles, luxuriating in the feel of his skin against mine. “I’m down on my quota of real Goblin King touch.”

His other hand traced down my cheek, lingering against my jawline and wending towards my mouth. “Having feelings, are we?”

“You betcha. Epic ones.” I kissed his fingers. “I missed you beyond words, almost beyond reason.”

“Almost?”

“Well, someone had to keep their sanity and run the kingdom when there-you got knocked out of commission by the iron poisoning. I didn’t have the luxury of losing my mind.”

He kissed the top of my head, his fingers trailing through my hair. “You’re so strong, my love. Such a heroine.”

I kissed the space between his thumb and forefinger. “Learned from the best.”

“To the contrary, darling girl. I merely encouraged your innate capacities.” He nibbled the edge of my ear, then kissed down the length of the lobe. “You’ve always been a heroine.”

“Well, this heroine was quite pleased to be rescued. By her erstwhile-villainous Faerie Lord love, no less.”

“At your service, Sarah love. Always.”

“Always?”

“Always. And forever.”

I smiled into the line of his forearm, then kissed that line of pale perfect skin. “Not long at all.”

“Mmm. Not long enough when it’s with you.”

I rose up to face him, drinking in his crystalline eyes and the sensuous curve of his mouth, and then leaned forward so that our lips were a breath away. “I love you.”

He closed the distance, so that his words breathed into my mouth, hot with intent and promise. “And I you, Sarah mine.”

Drabble #174 Epic

[3iggy]

Word Count: Slighty over 500

Sarah had made an epic mistake.

It was really just an epically ill fated series of completely common and uninspiring events that had lead to this epic panic-inducing moment. She had all of these thoughts as women she kind of knew fretted over her veil, fluffed out the white dress, and told her how pretty she was, how lucky she was.

One boring day she’d said yes to an utterly conventional man who’d asked her out for coffee which had then segwayed into months of comfortable dinners and dates. Then there was a ring that was completely lacking in charm, whimsy, or character, and she’d accepted it.

Had she lost her mind?

Was she actually going to marry Steve the Accountant!

“Sarah are you alright?” Sherry? Cheryl? Steve’s best friend’s wife? Asked.

Sarah continued to stare at her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes glowed sea-green and storm tossed in the too chic dress. Her dark hair was too artfully arranged atop her spinning head.

“No. No. No.” Sarah said, picking up her skirts and kicking off her heels as she backed away from the mirror. “This is all wrong. Obviously, I’ve been cursed or bewitched, some foul magic is afoot.” She elbowed her way past the other accountant’s wives and startled at how nearly identical all of their expressions were.

Had she some how fallen prey to a cult?

Sarah didn’t look back, she fled the church and its rain slick parking lot. Sidewalk cafes, shops, and banks all flashed by as she raced toward the park in the center of town, the one wild place she was drawn to.

Steve only liked neutral colors, he didn’t like dogs, or experimental theatre. What had she been thinking? Had she been thinking at all these past six months?

Huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, Sarah stopped by a trash can to rip the train and at least two feet of the fragile skirt off the dress and chuck it and the veil into the garbage. Not bothered at all by the bewildered stares of those enjoying a slightly wet afternoon in the park, Sarah pulled the pins free of her hair and dashed barefoot into the densely wooded walking trails.

Did it really take a mistake of epic proportions to realize how blind she’d been. She could never be Steve the Accountant’s little wife. No. No. No. She was a half feral mad women, he’d have her stuffed in the attic once her true colors splashed across his sterile beige carpets.

She knew exactly what she wanted—twilit dust motes and chicken features.

Branches caught in her hair and thorns clutched at her ruined dress as she crashed off the trail and into the unknown which quickly became the wilds beyond the labyrinth.

Thank the gods.

“Are you headed to a bog witch convention?”

Sarah spun around, realizing she’d returned to the exact spot she’d started this game with this Goblin King so many years ago. There he stood all rust and ruin and perfectly imperfect just like this topsy turvy place.

“Bog witch…no thank you, but I was hoping there might be an opening for a slightly mad middle aged woman?”