Copyright infringement not intended.
Word Count: A tad bit over one hundred. 110 to be exact. Oops.
A/N: Now that I've written Fine China, I can finally do what I've meant to do since I began writing this... (cryptic, much?) Hehe. Cryptic messages... they're the best, aren't they? All full of angst and cryptic..ness. Angst ... Mmmm. Oh, oops. Ah, carry on; enjoy, babes.
Illusion
"If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life."
- Oscar Wilde.
It's instantaneous.
The moment she wakes, the millisecond her eyes flutter open and meet the harsh florescent light of her cage, she sees him. His scaly skin glimmers in the artificial light, flesh damp with a thin sheen of perspiration. His eyes are darkened by something she cannot name; it's dangerous, she knows that, and it sends a shiver dancing through her frail body.
His name rolls off her tongue, forbidden and right all at once. "Rumpelstiltskin."
Rumpelstiltskin. Where is he? she wonders. Is he looking for me? If he is, he is taking far too long trying to find her.
She cannot wait for him forever.
Heh?
Good, not so good, God awful? I don't know about you, but I liked it. Bit sad, bit angsty, bit hopeful (all three are prominent keys in my writing.)
Also, if you didn't quite get it - he isn't coming. He has no idea she's there, or even alive. Ouch.
Well, it's late, I'm sleepy. G'night, folkerdoodles (what?)
Til next time,
Yr Alban.