Door Challenge
Dec. 18th, 2003 01:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
lamardeuse.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionHead Trip I can be found here.
Okay, so I don't know if these really are all that capable of standing on their own. :P
Head Trip II: Door
by lamardeuse
He dreamed of a door.
The door looked familiar, somehow, but he didn't think about it too much because something was telling him the only important fact about that door was that he had to get on the other side of it, fast. There was someone waiting for him on the other side, someone he needed desperately, someone he needed to make everything make sense. He knew that like he knew his own name.
So he yanked the door open and light exploded around him and at first he was blinded. He threw up his arm against it and blinked away tears and when he could finally focus again he took away his arm and saw--
"Hello, son."
--an old guy.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Being American is an insufficient excuse for rudeness," the guy said primly, "though it is an explanation of sorts."
"Oh my God," Ray breathed. "You're Fraser's dad."
The other man grunted. "At least you're not as dim as I suspected."
Ray looked around at his surroundings. The two of them were standing in the middle of a vast, rolling tundra exploding with short, brilliantly coloured flowers. There was no sign of the door. "Am I dreaming?"
Fraser, Sr. pursed his lips, leaned closer and nodded, as if reassuring a small child. "Probably best to think of it that way."
"I've been here before," Ray said, studying the landscape. "This is, this is where we looked for the Hand, except it didn't look like this."
"That's because it's summer now, son."
Ray scowled at him. "You're not gonna pull some it's-a-wonderful-life-Christmas-bullshit, are you?"
"Christmas in July? No." The old man looked out across the tundra. "Besides, I was never very good at holidays."
Ray stabbed a finger at him. "You gave him that picture!"
The other man turned to him, a faint hint of embarrassment on his face, and the expression was so much like Fraser's that Ray couldn't breathe for a second.
He smiled in spite of the weirdness of wanting to reassure a figment of his imagination. "You're not as bad at holidays as you think."
The old man's mouth quirked. "Well. Death seems to have improved my parenting skills."
The memory of the smile on Fraser's face when he unwrapped the picture filled up his brain, making him dizzy. Suddenly, he wanted to find his way out of there, fast. "So why'm I here, Dad?"
"Why do you think you're here?"
Ray shook his head. "No, no way, this is my dream, I do not want to dream about having my head shrunk. Just tell me what you've got to tell me and get it over with."
"Well. The direct approach, then." The old guy took a deep breath, then jerked his head to the side, and Ray heard a sharp crack.
Ray's heart jumped in his chest like a panicked deer. "On second thought, maybe I'll just cut this visit short," he said, turning on his heel. If he just kept walking, he'd eventually either wake up or croak, right?
"He needs you."
Ray stopped dead, frozen solid in the middle of a carpet of flowers.
He shook his head again, more violently, like he was trying to fling it from his neck.
"That's just--just me sayin' what I want to hear," he said, voice dull. "You're just part of my head."
"If you say so," the other man said calmly.
"Fuck!" He thumped his fists against his temples. "Wake up, wake up, you stupid shit!"
"Have you ever considered that your problems with romantic relationships might stem from your appalling lack of self-esteem?"
Ray spun back around, fists still clenched. "Look, figment or not, Fraser's dad or not, I will punch you."
"You almost lost him once with a punch," the old man told him sharply. "Do you want to lose him forever with another one?"
"I already lost him, goddammit!" Ray yelled.
"Not yet," the other man said quietly. "Not yet."
And that was just too much--hope--for Ray to fight. Before he could stop it, his heart strained toward the promise of those two words, struggled for freedom from the dark, deep hole he'd stuck it in since he got on that plane and watched Fraser waving to him from the ground until he disappeared.
Ray's mouth opened. Closed again.
"Show me," he said, before he could take it back.
End
(741 words)
Next: Head Trip III: Movies
Okay, so I don't know if these really are all that capable of standing on their own. :P
Head Trip II: Door
by lamardeuse
He dreamed of a door.
The door looked familiar, somehow, but he didn't think about it too much because something was telling him the only important fact about that door was that he had to get on the other side of it, fast. There was someone waiting for him on the other side, someone he needed desperately, someone he needed to make everything make sense. He knew that like he knew his own name.
So he yanked the door open and light exploded around him and at first he was blinded. He threw up his arm against it and blinked away tears and when he could finally focus again he took away his arm and saw--
"Hello, son."
--an old guy.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Being American is an insufficient excuse for rudeness," the guy said primly, "though it is an explanation of sorts."
"Oh my God," Ray breathed. "You're Fraser's dad."
The other man grunted. "At least you're not as dim as I suspected."
Ray looked around at his surroundings. The two of them were standing in the middle of a vast, rolling tundra exploding with short, brilliantly coloured flowers. There was no sign of the door. "Am I dreaming?"
Fraser, Sr. pursed his lips, leaned closer and nodded, as if reassuring a small child. "Probably best to think of it that way."
"I've been here before," Ray said, studying the landscape. "This is, this is where we looked for the Hand, except it didn't look like this."
"That's because it's summer now, son."
Ray scowled at him. "You're not gonna pull some it's-a-wonderful-life-Christmas-bullshit, are you?"
"Christmas in July? No." The old man looked out across the tundra. "Besides, I was never very good at holidays."
Ray stabbed a finger at him. "You gave him that picture!"
The other man turned to him, a faint hint of embarrassment on his face, and the expression was so much like Fraser's that Ray couldn't breathe for a second.
He smiled in spite of the weirdness of wanting to reassure a figment of his imagination. "You're not as bad at holidays as you think."
The old man's mouth quirked. "Well. Death seems to have improved my parenting skills."
The memory of the smile on Fraser's face when he unwrapped the picture filled up his brain, making him dizzy. Suddenly, he wanted to find his way out of there, fast. "So why'm I here, Dad?"
"Why do you think you're here?"
Ray shook his head. "No, no way, this is my dream, I do not want to dream about having my head shrunk. Just tell me what you've got to tell me and get it over with."
"Well. The direct approach, then." The old guy took a deep breath, then jerked his head to the side, and Ray heard a sharp crack.
Ray's heart jumped in his chest like a panicked deer. "On second thought, maybe I'll just cut this visit short," he said, turning on his heel. If he just kept walking, he'd eventually either wake up or croak, right?
"He needs you."
Ray stopped dead, frozen solid in the middle of a carpet of flowers.
He shook his head again, more violently, like he was trying to fling it from his neck.
"That's just--just me sayin' what I want to hear," he said, voice dull. "You're just part of my head."
"If you say so," the other man said calmly.
"Fuck!" He thumped his fists against his temples. "Wake up, wake up, you stupid shit!"
"Have you ever considered that your problems with romantic relationships might stem from your appalling lack of self-esteem?"
Ray spun back around, fists still clenched. "Look, figment or not, Fraser's dad or not, I will punch you."
"You almost lost him once with a punch," the old man told him sharply. "Do you want to lose him forever with another one?"
"I already lost him, goddammit!" Ray yelled.
"Not yet," the other man said quietly. "Not yet."
And that was just too much--hope--for Ray to fight. Before he could stop it, his heart strained toward the promise of those two words, struggled for freedom from the dark, deep hole he'd stuck it in since he got on that plane and watched Fraser waving to him from the ground until he disappeared.
Ray's mouth opened. Closed again.
"Show me," he said, before he could take it back.
End
(741 words)
Next: Head Trip III: Movies
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Date: 2003-12-19 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 12:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-19 06:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 12:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-19 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-19 07:00 pm (UTC)::refreshing lj screen::
::frowning at the lack of next episode::
Uh, these *will* have a Happy Ending (tm), right?
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Date: 2003-12-19 07:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 12:57 pm (UTC)Man, you do *one* sad one and you're branded for life! *g* Never fear...
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Date: 2003-12-19 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-19 07:43 pm (UTC)"Have you ever considered that your problems with romantic relationships might stem from your appalling lack of self-esteem?" You tell him, Bob!
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Date: 2003-12-20 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-19 08:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-20 01:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 11:57 pm (UTC)Loved this:
The other man turned to him, a faint hint of embarrassment on his face, and the expression was so much like Fraser's that Ray couldn't breathe for a second.
Because yeah, you know, at times? Like father, like son, and I just adore that Ray recognizes that, is so struck by that.
Love the desperation here:
"I already lost him, goddammit!" Ray yelled.
"Not yet," the other man said quietly. "Not yet."
And that was just too much--hope--for Ray to fight.
A gleam of hope, for what he fears he has already lost - yeah, I get that, and I love that fear or not, denial or not, Ray just has to know if there really, really is a chance.
(And this is, really, perfection:
Being American is an insufficient excuse for rudeness," the guy said primly, "though it is an explanation of sorts.")
Too amusing!
no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 03:52 am (UTC)