Disclaimer: blah all blah characters blah etc blah copyright blah of blah
lemony blah snicket blah not blah me blah
A/N: and THIS is my 1st Quagmire/ Baudelaire fic, so, well, you know. And now I think about it, Its really rather depressing.
For L, my one and only ficcing friend. Sorry, I had to get that out of my system....
I watched as the Baudelaires and that horrid angry mob grew fainter and fainter. I must have sat there for a very long time before Duncan pulled me away from the scene below. Although we have come a long way from that village, it seems every time I look over the edge of this balloon, I can still se them falling from the rope as it was severed by that supposed police-woman. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it and the couplets just won't come. I think there's something wrong with me. Everything that once seemed solid is slipping away. I feel empty, lost in a sea of confusion and emotions I haven't felt for a long time. Its almost like I'm dreaming, though I know I'm not. I don't even have the ground any more, just air. Miles and miles of air.
It's been three days now up in the endless harsh breezes and none of us know where we are any more. I sat thinking about it today, just floating around forever. I even managed to bring myself to look over the edge, but it definitely didn't solve anything. The Baudelaires once again fell from the rope. But this time I was falling with them. Falling and falling, until I could fall no more, and suddenly Duncan was there shouting at me, pulling me back.
They both think I'm mad. I suppose I don't blame them. I've been talking in my sleep again. Tossing and turning they say, shouting about Quigley and Violet. Well from what they could make out of it.
I haven't written a couplet in over three days. They just wont come like they used to. Yes, there must be something wrong with me.
R&R for abbitha now shall you?
A/N: and THIS is my 1st Quagmire/ Baudelaire fic, so, well, you know. And now I think about it, Its really rather depressing.
For L, my one and only ficcing friend. Sorry, I had to get that out of my system....
I watched as the Baudelaires and that horrid angry mob grew fainter and fainter. I must have sat there for a very long time before Duncan pulled me away from the scene below. Although we have come a long way from that village, it seems every time I look over the edge of this balloon, I can still se them falling from the rope as it was severed by that supposed police-woman. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it and the couplets just won't come. I think there's something wrong with me. Everything that once seemed solid is slipping away. I feel empty, lost in a sea of confusion and emotions I haven't felt for a long time. Its almost like I'm dreaming, though I know I'm not. I don't even have the ground any more, just air. Miles and miles of air.
It's been three days now up in the endless harsh breezes and none of us know where we are any more. I sat thinking about it today, just floating around forever. I even managed to bring myself to look over the edge, but it definitely didn't solve anything. The Baudelaires once again fell from the rope. But this time I was falling with them. Falling and falling, until I could fall no more, and suddenly Duncan was there shouting at me, pulling me back.
They both think I'm mad. I suppose I don't blame them. I've been talking in my sleep again. Tossing and turning they say, shouting about Quigley and Violet. Well from what they could make out of it.
I haven't written a couplet in over three days. They just wont come like they used to. Yes, there must be something wrong with me.
R&R for abbitha now shall you?