The Imagination Station.

[Ranger of the North]

cri

this hurts my heart and warms it

[Woogwoo Wren]

cri

this hurts my heart and warms it

*snickers evilly*
*starts sobbing*

[Woogwoo Wren]

I Am Not Nothing
(Inspired by the song I Am Not Nothing by Beth Crowley. Some spoilers for Timeless, but only slight ones)

“No one ever made me feel as small as you did.”

Dominique – no, the Beta – sat across the cell from her, his legs folded and staring at a small spot on the wall. They had been locked in the cell for almost four hours by Veronica’s reckoning. The silence was starting to get painful.

“What’s the plan?” It was a phrase they had used many times when on missions together – at least, a phrase she had used a lot with Dominique.

“Think of one yourself,” he growled. “I can’t do everything for you.”

Veronica shrank back against the wall, surprised by his anger.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Useless girl, I don’t know why the Omega insisted you come as well,” the Beta muttered. Veronica bit her lip, trying to fight back the tears. To hear those words come out of Dominique’s mouth made them hurt all the more.

"No one made me feel as cursed."

“This is your fault,” he snapped, standing over her. Dominique had always been so much taller than her, but the Beta seemed to have grown another foot.

“I – I did – I know. I didn’t mean it.” She was shaking, trying not to look at the cliff Claire had just fallen over – taking the key with her. “But I didn’t mean too.”

“It doesn’t matter. We lost the key – the Omega is not going to be happy – and it’s all your fault.”

Veronica dropped her eyes as they filled with tears, struggling to come to terms with the fact Claire had gone – and that it was her fault.

"I lie awake in bed just staring at the ceiling."

‘It was my fault. Maybe if I had gone with them. Maybe if I had insisted he didn’t go. I could have done something.’

She couldn’t sleep, staring up at the roof as her mind ran through the events of the last few weeks. Her mind kept coming back to the fact that it was her fault Dominique had turned into the Beta. Perhaps dwelling on that was better than dwelling on the fact it was her fault Elijah had been captured.

"Wondering if things could get worse".


"But I will forgive myself and start to let it go."

“Veronica. Please.” Finley was holding out his hand, his dark eyes full of worry. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself. We can find another way.”

Slowly she reached out, placing her hand in his. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She stiffened for a second, then relaxed into the hug, fighting back the tears.

“It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

"Accept that who you chose to be was out of my control"

“He chose for himself,” Claire said, sitting on the edge of her bed. Veronica nodded.

“I know – I just – if I were there would it have changed anything? Could I have done something?”

Claire reached over and grabbed her hand.

“No. He had made up his mind, Ronni. There was nothing anyone could do.” Veronica nodded, wrapping her hand over her friend’s.

“I know.”

"And though it might be hard to begin again"

The Tower had been the place of Veronica’s worst moments – but it had also been the place of some of her best. And now she stood in front of it, no longer the Omega Tower, no longer the rebels’ base, no longer a place where so many of her friends had died. Now it was Domi’s – a chance for children to start again, to have the chance at life she had never been able to.

Domi’s – in honour of her friend – of more than her friend. In memory of the boy who had died over a hundred years ago. In memory of her boyfriend.

She bit her lip, fighting back the tears. If he hadn’t chosen to become the Beta maybe he would be here to see this. Maybe he could have been a part of this.

Elijah laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, sensing her sadness.

“We’ll do it together,” he said quietly.

"I’ll write myself a brand new story with a happy end."

[Woogwoo Wren]

What do you remember?
(Insipired by a prompt I saw on Pinterest)

The crash itself happened too quickly for me to fully register what had happened until it was over. One minute I was driving my younger brother home from soccer practice, the next the car had flipped and I was waking up in a hospital.

Except I couldn’t move – couldn’t even blink. I was trapped inside my own body, unable to experience the world around me but through sound. I could still hear my family around me when I was awake, but I couldn’t open my eyes, couldn’t move any part of my body.

Couldn’t tell them I was still alive.

But it didn’t last long, something I was grateful for. About a week after the crash, I found myself standing in front of Death, hovering over my limp body and my mother sleeping beside me.

You may think of Death as a cloaked figure, carrying a scythe and looking brooding, but he isn’t. He’s an old, bearded man – a man who might be able to pass as Santa Clause in a mall.

I look at him, and he looks at me.

“Is it time?” I ask. “Am I going to die?”

He is silent for a long time before he finally nods.

“Yes,” is all he says.

“But I’m so young,” I say. “Surely I have a full life ahead of me?” A pitiful plea, I know, but I had so many plans. I was going to a concert in a month. My girlfriend and I have our whole lives planned out. Now I couldn’t live that.

“I’m sorry,” he answers. “I’ve carried many younger than you. It’s your time.” He holds out a hand to me and I slowly reach towards it, my mind numb. But before I grab it, before I seal my fate, I ask a question.

“What do you remember?”

He looks at me, surprise on his face. I guess he was expecting something like “What comes after,” or “why?” But he nods, and suddenly looks older than he did before, hundreds – thousands of years old.

“I remember so much,” he whispers. As he speaks, his eyes echo what he says, showing me glimpses into the past.

“I remember battle fields – men and horses charging at each other with swords. I remember beaches, the sea wet with blood as men press forward. Pointless but brave sacrifices.” His eyes flash red as swords flashes and guns blazed behind the pupils.

“I remember anger – people fighting against the fates. I remember those who beg for one last chance to make things right. I remember weeping families, screaming for a chance to see their loved ones again.” More images flash through his pupils, people crying in rage, people begging for mercy.

“I remember peace – the old men dying in their beds. The couples with their hands clasped as they passed through together. The religious, comfortable in their faith coming with ready arms.

“I remember unfairness – the babes snatched from life before they have a chance to live. The parents having to bury their children. The women murdered and left by the side of the road.” He looks at me with sadness. “The young man in a car crash. Those who died before their time.

“I remember death.”

Silence stretches between us as he finishes talking. I look up at him, sobered by his words. My life seems pointless in the shadow of all those who had come before me.

Death smiles at me as if he can read my mind.

“No one is pointless. I can also remember the hope – the world that is changed because of the war. The lives that are saved because of the sacrifices. The people who grow because they want to make a loved one proud. The man who changes the lives of so many people because his older brother died too young.”

I blink, unsure what he meant by the last words.

“Can you see into the future?” I ask.

He just smiles, raising his arm. I see a window open and my brother, at least ten years older, standing in a graveyard. He looks exhausted but proud of himself.

“Hey, brother,” he says. “I just – I thought I should tell you. There was a woman who had been in a car crash, and I – and I – I saved her life, Damion. I saved her life. I saved her family from going through what we felt when you… I did it.”

The window closes and I stare up at Death.

“There’s nothing you can do – no way I could -” I begin, but he shakes his head.

“It’s your time, Damion. But I can tell you they heal. They recover – they move on. They make the world a better place.”

I nod, looking down at my mother.

“Can I say goodbye?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.” He holds out his hand again, and with one last look at my mother, I take it. The world spins around me and I hear the faint beeping of a flatlining life support as I become a memory.

[Woogwoo Wren]

Cucumber
(When asking for prompts, it was suggested I write about a telekinetic cucumber. This was the result.)

It’s very dark, lying in the bottom of the cold fridge. Occasionally, the door opens and light disturbs me as I sleep, but usually, I just lay there, waiting. Thinking. Sleeping.

It happened not long after one of the flashes of light – I realised I could move things. I shifted the plate of butter across the fridge floor. I flicked on the light when the door was still closed.

I waited, biding my time – the humans would soon know my power. I could crush them with my mighty ability, force them to live in cold, dark holes. So I waited, all through that long dark time.

The door was opened again, and the milk bottle was taken out – returned a few minutes later much emptier. I waited.

An apple was retrieved, cheese taken and returned, the milk taken out.

I caught a few glimpses of the land beyond – and of the humans going about their morning routines.

After that, silence again. I waited, forming my plan carefully. I would wait until I was chosen, and then use the knife I had seen on the bench to force them to free my kinsmen – to let us go without eating us.

So I waited, sleeping, thinking, waiting.

Finally, the fridge was opened again – and this time it was my turn.

It was one of the smaller humans, talking excitedly.

“…video was amazing! I bet it’ll work with Tiger.”

“Tiger isn’t afraid of anything though,” the other small human said. I was so close to the knife. I could move it – it shifted slightly on the bench then dropped as I was taken outside of the kitchen. Curses!

The small humans put me down beside a small, furry creature as it was focused on eating, giggling. I was angry, but there was nothing in my reach. Perhaps I could speak to the creature, tell it of my peril.

I concentrated, using all my power to cause the dust particles to swirl around me. As I did, the cat turned – turned to see me surrounded by a swirl of dust, small enough only the sharpest of eyes could see it.

The creature leaped almost double its height into the sky, letting out a loud cry. The two small humans started laughing loudly, tapping their hands together.

“That was wicked!”

“Did you film it? Please say you filmed it! Man, that was amazing!”

They would know my power soon. I would destroy them all – cucumbers would take over humankind. We would become the most powerful – we would destroy all those that walked.

Angry and humiliated I was carrying back to my resting place at the bottom of the fridge. As I was returned to my place of thinking, I heard one of the older humans say “Don’t damage that cucumber, will you – I need it for dinner.”

“Sure Mum!” And then darkness.

My time would come soon. I would take over the world. I would become all-powerful! I would rule! I would –

“That was a real nice salad, Mum.”

“Thank you. But could you please ask before using the cucumber like that? It was a bit bruised, and Tiger won’t come out from under the deck.”

“It was worth it though!”

[Woogwoo Wren]

Gone
(Another prompt I was given was; A child that lost everything sits on the doorstep of a house that is no longer there.)

He had played here a lot when he was younger. He had chased his play mates through the streets, laughing as they dodged the occasional car that passed through their neighbourhood.

He had skinned his knees so many times. Lots so many balls, helped up so many crying friends. Played so many games.

The cars passed so much more often now, the lights shone brighter and the stars seemed thinner. People walked past the small child, dressed in rags, sitting on the side of the road where once a house had been. They didn’t even look at him.

He wanted to go home – but his home had been built over. He wanted to find his family – but his parents had died with the street.

So he sat, silently, waiting for something – what he didn’t know. Children ran past, an adult shouting at them to be careful. Not long ago he was racing down the streets without a care in the world – or maybe it was longer ago than he thought.

How could the world change so quickly? He remembered his young sister being born, only a year ago. His parents couldn’t find a car on time and she was born in their home. Now she was dead, dead like her parents and like the innocents of the world.

The child stood, moving three steps forward until he was on the edge of his property. He stood on the road, and cars rushed passed him – so close. But he didn’t flinch.

Then, he saw one of his friends, dancing along the road, playing a game of hopscotch. The boy rushed to join him, avoiding the cars like he so often used to.

More of their friends joined them, dancing over the hopscotch lines in an old forgotten dance. This hadn’t changed – every day his friends joined him to play. Why would they change their habits – they hadn’t left when the world went mad.

The danced through the streets, kicking balls and dodging people. For a moment, the boy felt like he was normal again – like the world had become friendly once more.

But all too soon the sun began to set and he knew they had to leave again. He bid farewell to his friends, until another day, and returned to his daily stop. He stopped on what used to be his steps, waiting for the last of his friends to vanish. Then he took two steps forward, back into what used to be his house.

Two figures were walking along the dim sidewalk, talking together. They were going to walk through the spot his house used to be. The boy ignored them, sitting down to his evening meal like he had so many times before.

As they stepped through him, the girl shivered, pulling her jacket about her.

“Is it just me or did it get cold?” she asked. He laughed, wrapping a hand around her shoulders.

“Maybe it’s ghosts,” he said, waggling his finger in a spooky motion.

“Stop it you!” she said with a laugh, shoving him. They vanished into the darkness.

The boy barely noticed them, continuing to go about his daily routine. Why would the changing years affect him? It wasn’t like he could touch the world now, it continued turning without him.

He had died when the world went mad and the sky exploded, but no one had told him that.

So he continued doing what he had always done, playing with his friends, eating his dinner and sitting on the step of a house that wasn’t there anymore.

[Ranger of the North]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

mkay that cucumber one was great tho

[TheSongOfTheStars]

I felt like crying over the remember prompt, especially that last line about them becoming a memory....

[blackbird.]

aww that's so bittersweet!
more bitter than sweet,
but it's such a beautiful way of looking at change.
especially about how inevitable it is,
and how we have to move on
and not let the past hold us back from living in the present.

[Woogwoo Wren]

Thanks guys!