AN: Random word drabbles. Think I might do 13 of these. Enjoy. (Oh, you know, and review, so I don't get bored with them and stop. No. That wasn't a threat. It's a promise.)
Don't own shiz-nat.
Tidying
Sarah Williams was doing something you absolutely despised. It wasn't something she did often, nor was it something she did very well, but today it was something she was doing thoroughly.
She was tidying her room, packing the few knickknacks and non-essentials she was bringing with her to college. The rest, she was tidying up.
Sarah was doing pretty well, considering her track record. Any other household chore, she did quickly and she did well. But when it came to cleaning her room, Sarah never did well.
She'd cleared out her bookshelf, bringing the bear minimum, and storing the rest. Although, to be honest, her bookshelf wasn't hard, considering that all it held was books. She'd finished her vanity. Keepsakes that she couldn't part with, such as tickets to her mothers plays, the program to Toby's elementary school concert, and a purple glittery leaf shaped like a heart Hoggle had given her for her birthday, she put in a box under her desk, to take back once she moved out of her tiny, tiny dorm.
Now all that was left was under her bed, something she wasn't exactly looking forward to. Resigned, Sarah sighed, got on her hands and knees, and grabbed blindly under her mattress frame.
After coming up with half a loads worth of missing socks, (maybe some of those goblins were innocent after all), her hand hit a box.
Flopping all the way onto her stomach, getting dirt and dust on the front of her shirt and her jeans, she easily pulled out the wooden container, and, making sure the door behind her was closed, flipped open the latch.
She closed her eyes, sighed, and counted down from ten.
Ten.
Why did she open the box?
Nine.
Where was she going to put it?
Eight.
She couldn't bring it with her. In her teeny tiny dorm, she'd have to see it all the time. She couldn't deal with the thoughts that box came with all the time. Especially not on top of all the stress of college.
Seven.
She couldn't leave it here. Sarah already promised Toby he could sleep in her room after she left, and she knew it was only a matter of time until he snooped around. And Toby was just like her. He would love what was in the box, almost as much as she did. (Used to—used to.)
Six.
She couldn't put it up in the attic, either. She would have to ask her dad for the key if she wanted to put it in the attic, and he was just as nosey as Toby. He would look. And probably give it to Tobes. Which couldn't happen.
Five.
Why, oh why, did she have to open the box?
Four.
Maybe… maybe she wouldn't take everything in the box. She'd just sort through it.
Three.
Yeah, yeah. Just sort through it.
Two.
Oh, god. The smell hit her nostrils.
One.
She opened her eyes, and there it was.
The figurine, the bookends, the Fieries, the Escher poster, her Didymus plush, a red leather book, and a diamond studded hairpiece, all on the pillow of a beautiful white dress, weaved from moonlight and spun from dreams.
She could taste the smell on her tongue, the smell of moonlight, of crystals, of magic and just barely, the spicy scent of cologne.
And then the fantasy nerd in Sarah couldn't resist. She locked her bedroom door, stripped, and slipped into the gauzy dress.
She'd grown four inches, her bust grew, her hips rounded, but the dress fit perfectly. It molded to her shape and her taste, the sleeves thinned and the entire thing was less… well, poufy.
She shimmied out of the dress, and for some reason. Sarah found herself crying.
The rest of that day, Sarah cursed tidying, for making her cry, for staining her skin with the smell of the Underground, and finally, for forcing her to re-pack the box, and put it with the rest of the things she was taking with her to the next part of her life.