Drabbles

By spheeris1

Pairings: Multiple…

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[His Army]

It could be Paris. Or Houston. Or Ontario.
It could be the far reaches of outer-space...Anthy could never get far enough away.
She bought tickets for airplanes, for trains, for ships.
She drove thousands of miles on tiny back-roads that twist and turn and never end.
She lived up in a tree. She buried herself in a foxhole.
She changed her name, she lied about her age, she dyed her hair and wore contacts.
Anthy wanted to be faceless to him.
But she never can be, never ever never ever can be.....
sometimes she wants to die sometimes she wants to impale herself upon jagged rocks sometimes she wishes he would just hurry the fuck up and catch her and have his damn way again
Then Anthy wakes up, puts on her shoes and starts running once more.

-

[All-Girl Revue]

Nights are never normal once you've danced above the ground in a garden of slowly slipping away roses...
At least, that is what Anthy thinks--so she prints that out and hands out flyers on the sidewalk, corner of 56th and Silverbirch.
Most people, buttoned-up and briefcases, pass her by...ignoring the tantalizing glimpses of Indian tattoos and glancing only once at her pink-n-purple zebra hair, hanging down and loose in the breeze of a rapidly chilling November.
Girls can be Princes. Gender is a noose. Miracles Suck.
Fading bumperstickers on Juri's slow-to-restore Corvette, circa 1967--a nice shade of plum. 'Plum Crazy' the dealer called it and Juri bought it without question.
She pulled into the parking-lot, slinging long leather-clad legs out and walking quickly to the backdoor of the bar.
She was late. But she didn't care.
'Clark Gable isn't Clark Gable in bed.' Sign over the door, better pay attention to it...
Shiori slammed her door shut, locking the various locks and then made her way outside, pausing on the stoop to light up her cigarette. Working two jobs blew--but it paid the bills, this jostling of alcohol and dancing on tabletops. And who was she kidding? She loved the eyes roaming over her barely-clothed body. It turned her on.
Funny how things change...now I love cats...in fact, I love all animals. Funny that.
Nanami closed the clinic for the day, running to the nearest deli to get some food. She was always forgetting to eat lunch and now she was simply starving for some ham-on-rye, swiss cheese and mayo. She'd have to change, too...covered in dog hairs, but she loved the smell--dog breath was sometimes preferable to the breath of some of the guys she slept with. The very thought made her grin.
Whips. Chains. But she still couldn't afford the rack. Damn.
Kozue practiced backstage, cutting through the air with assorted delights. She called for someone to bring her vinyl boots...she looked good in those and the crowd loved it. Ten till six--almost time. She applied red lipstick and kissed the mirror. 'God, I am gorgeous...' she thought with a grin.
Shouts of another broken blue light, leaving her to lean against the brick wall and sigh. Long night ahead...
We all need a break from duty, don't we? That's how I see it.
Utena props her feet up on the desk and closes her eyes. Soon, the show will go on and the people will love it, not knowing that every little tale told was once painful reality.
But that is how it is...now...in this world. Utena wouldn't want it any other way.
To go back is insane. To get trapped again is suicide.
Utena's learned that a game or two is all part of the plan, all part of growing up.
She picks up the phone, dialing the number and listening for a soft voice to answer.
'Hurry back--it's about to begin.' Utena smiles and she is sure Anthy is smiling as well.

-

[Killing Tadzio]

...boys don't cry...
That's what Touga told himself over and over as he rode away, shiny black car taking him past rows and rows of dying chestnut trees, to his new life--that's how his mother put it--a whole new life.
But Touga didn't want a new life.
Touga wanted to run away.
...boys shouldn't be beautiful...
What good were clothes if they never stay?
Touga asked himself that question as a nanny washed him clean, rubbing his skin raw with lye soap and scalding water.
What good was fighting if you can't keep hidden?
Touga wondered as he was shoved into nice pants and shirt, button-up vest.
And he couldn't cut his hair, his new father said so--his long red hair was magnificent--that's what the new father told him.
Touga wanted to shear it off.
And Touga was not sure he would stop with cutting the delicate locks...not with nice silver scissors so close to his pale neck.
...boys cannot be weak...
After the third time, Touga stopped fighting.
Stopped fighting the hands gripping his arms, stopped fighting the knee pushing his legs apart, stopped struggling as his body was exposed. Touga just stopped.
What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger--Touga had to believe that--it had to be true...it had to be true...
It had to be.

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[Deaf From Screaming]

She only wants her way because she never got it...that's all you have to understand about her.
She played with the dolls you bought her, making Daddy kill Mommy so she could kill Daddy all by herself--who took their love away from you, baby-girl?
She was running down by the river, trying to avoid the mud--girls aren't pretty if they get dirty and yet she found herself covered in clay--who told you that you are stupid, sweet-angel?
She'd kiss you, not knowing how she learned about lips and things...then she'd shove you away, blushing her way back to the bushes--who called you ugly, little doll?
And she has nightmares every night, screaming out into her dark bedroom, tearing at the sheets and running from the shadows, down the hall...but they aren't there, no one to tell her it is safe, no one to turn on the light, no one to give a damn and she keeps on screaming till her throat is raw, till she collapses on the floor and cries into the carpet--who is going to protect you now, child?

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[Stealing Olives]

Before the Devil came the Prince...but what of before even him?
Sometimes, watching fake stars in a fake sky over a fake school, Akio catches glimpses of another place, drifting in and out of the cosmic dust of lies swirling above him.
Groves of trees in a field and tall mountains in the distance, snowcapped even in the hottest summers...burning oak from the fireplace, tinged with the faint smell of heated black iron, mixed with herbs and spices only his mother knew about...cryptic things from foreign lands, like arrowroot and turmeric and sage and saffron...they made his stomach rumble and his nose itch...
Akio burned the pictures and paintings long ago, only conjuring up their images in the hours when no one in this little play was awake, not even his sister. The only art he allowed now were disturbing landscapes, their only intent to torment a certain Bride.
His father would stalk wild deer, bringing home dark meat--red as rich wine--to slice, to dry, to cook in stews. And his mother would make sparkling cider, cinnamon and apples and nutmeg...turning to alcohol, which he was allowed a small sip of on each birthday or holiday...
Akio wiped Anthy's mind clear one day. Too many times had she awakened screaming and sweating and wide-eyed in remembrance of the past, her body dancing away from the only comfort he could offer, the only comfort this new soul could give. Akio knew what she was seeing in the recess of her mind...he saw it everyday as well and also wanted to reach out to it.
But it will always fade away, receding into the night till all you can see is black. Akio wishes he could wipe his own slate clean so easily.
He was only eight, trying to run in snow-drifts and pretending he was a rabbit, zig-zagging near the edge of the forest, imagining wolves chasing him as air turned to fog from his lips...he could hear his sister calling out to him, telling him that 'mama is ill, come back...' and he paused, breathing heavy...and he took even steps home, though a desperate fear gripped at his insides, into the house and to the bedroom...she was dying, he could see it in her eyes, he could see them growing dim...and she tugged him close, murmuring in a language he did not understand...
Akio's father did not come home one day. And he never came home ever again, only sending one letter in all that time--and it was no letter at all, just a silver ring...rose engraved crest of baby pink...Akio put it on that same day. And Akio wears it still, turns it on his finger and wishes with everything in him that he could just throw it away.

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[Told]

A knight upon horse, riding into fire and with sword drawn, only seeing the distance between themselves and their destiny...
'It's been told before, you know'--Juri says into silence of her room.
'Tell it again'--Shiori asks from the shadows.
The Prince racing up the tower steps to the imprisoned Princess, fighting off a witch and her evil minions, breaking the spell on the golden lock...
'Did you ever think I don't like to talk about this?'--Juri questions, ignoring fear bubbling up inside her body.
'Did you ever think that I care?'--Shiori says with a laugh, drawing closer in the night and wrapping her arms about Juri's body.
Young beauty kidnapped and the dashing sailor braves storms to reach her shore, blade tasting much blood in pursuit of retrieving the girl...
'That was me...once...'--Juri moans, her body shaking. And Shiori holds her in a tighter grasp.
'But I was never that pure...'--Shiori whispers.

-

[Hidden]

There is a mirror in the room and sometimes, late at night and early in the morning, Anthy stares at its flat surface. Fingers reach out and touch glass, so real that you can delude yourself that it might pull you in.
Anthy has read that book. Alice in the Looking-Glass.
But Anthy does not want to disappear into another false world, where reality cannot be seen and dreams become nightmares and everything morphs into unnatural colors...everything bleeds blood as black as ink in those places.
And blood here? Varying shades of red--like wine, like crayons, like paint. And dreams here? They are painful, epic and unfinished--they have no end, no chosen path, no strings above to pull your arms and legs like a marionette.
And reality? It cuts into you--like icy wind, like a knife, like paper sliding over the top of your finger.
Anthy is bleeding but no one can see it.
And only one person can stop it, but she is so far hidden in the corners and doorways and cracks that Anthy cannot find her.
Anthy cannot find the right reality to fall into, the right dream to wake up to...she just bleeds unseen buckets of life until who she longs for comes along.
Anthy puts the mirror in the closet.

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[Rest/Stop]

Utena did not know how many times, in all these running years, she had stopped here--pausing to soak in bright Autumn sun or let her face be caressed by cold rain, listening to children run--sneakers on wet concrete, puddles disturbed--to motors, to wind getting split apart by metal boxes on eighteen wheels, to see red lights trail along like a wedding string stretched over time itself...mornings of vending machines, crackers with cheese and cheap can soda, evenings of cigarette smoke and grill pits, the foul stench of meat and gasoline mixing together--an oil bull, eyes burning among the trees by the edge...
The beast stops, to snarl angrily at overweight men with shiny belt buckles.
And so Utena stops, every once in a while, to eat and sleep and imagine a castle in the sky--before hitching a ride out along the interstate that she can never find the exit off of.

-

[Touch]

Our backdrop is always the same, night-scape spread out before us like a dark dark sheet, points of light creating Orion's Belt in the distance.
Our fate is still the same, even now...even with lies on top of more lies, trying so hard to cover the truth with more truth, words and more words.
But let us not talk now, both of us...watching out the window...
Who can see us standing here, so far apart? Lips moving and sentences disappearing, see us move closer without knowing we do so...who watches us now?
As we hold hands, as we have done millions of times before--and both of us realize it is not like before at all.

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END [for now…]