I looked at the fish, its glassy eye staring up at me, unseeing. “I never-“
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Millie grabbed a cleaver and made a clean chop through the fish’s tail. I looked away before she brought it down again, but could hear the sharp chop of the cleaver hitting the cutting board.
She handed me a fileting knife. “Now it should be easy.”
Easy? I grabbed what was left of the fish, felt the spikiness of the fins against my hand as I made the first cut along the silver skin.
I felt the bile rise in my throat as I slit the fish down the middle. It was so much easier when I was a kid. Mom bought fish sticks from the market.
“Gotta take the bones out.”
I delved into the silvery flesh, removing tiny pieces of bone as I went. When I was done, I let Millie inspect it. “Good,” she said. She took the fish, dusted it with cornmeal and carefully set it in a pan of hot oil. Within minutes, the smell of fried fish filled the house.
I opened up the kitchen window to release some of the smell. Millie looked at me as if I was crazy. The fish sticks my mom had baked never smelled like this.
Twenty minutes later, we sat down at the kitchen table to eat. Millie prayed the blessing, then waited as I tentatively pierced the skin of the fish. I carefully lifted it to my mouth, noticing that most of the powerful smell had disappeared. I tasted it. It wasn’t like anything that I tasted before- not the fish sticks that mom had made, not the tuna fish with mayonnaise that we’d spread on crackers for a snack. It was its own taste and it was delicious.
Part 4A of a continuing Mini series. Part 1: Day 7- No Dialogue, Part 2: Day 4 - 3rd Person POV, Part 3: Day 2 - 1st Person POV
He stepped out onto the porch and took a deep breath. He could smell the salt of the ocean and the scent of seaweed that always seemed prevalent on rainy stormy days. It was the third or fourth day of rain, but he could deal with that. He wasn’t going to stop his daily walks just because of the rain. He could already tell the difference in his leg due to the walks down the beach. His limp wasn’t nearly as bad and he could stand on it longer and longer without stabbing pain.
Pulling his hood up over his head, he took his stick and headed down the steps. The rain pelted down on his head and back in almost a relaxing tattoo as he walked. With each step the stiffness of his muscles loosened and. His limp lessened even more. As he walked he counted the houses that lined the beach, each day he wanted to make it further than he did the day before. He didn’t always make his goal, but today he was determined. The sand sucked at his feet until he got closer to the waterline where it was packed more. Driftwood logs dotted the beach. They were smooth and almost slimy as he ran his hand along the ones stacked enough to touch without leaning too much. On dry days, they had been perfect seats to rest as he built up his strength.
The rain and fog blurred his vision but he could still barely sight the house that was his landmark and turn around point. The closer he got to it, he could feel the slight twinge to his muscles telling him that he was reaching the limit of what he could do and still be able to make it back home.
He stopped in front of the blue house with the driftwood decorations and stopped. Taking a deep breath, the satisfaction of reaching his goal made him smile. Turning he headed back, the rain that had been at his back now stung his face and hands as he walked. His head down, he watched every step he took knowing the returning pain and stiffness would make him clumsy and the risk of falling greater.
Focusing on the sound of the rain beating down on his head and the waves rhythmically crashing on the shore, he used it as a focus instead of the pain that was starting to shoot down his leg. Stopping once, he looked around and spotted the cute white cottage that intrigued him, he could see the owner sitting on the porch. One of these days he was going to have to go up and talk to her. Today wasn’t that day however, the pain in his leg was too much for him to be polite company and if he was going to introduce himself he’d rather do it when he wasn’t in pain.
Raising his hand, he waved and saw her answering wave, before continuing on.
She really hated the cold and rain and often wondered about her sanity when she chose to move to coastal Maine. Granted the Summer had been beautiful and the photographs she’d taken around Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park were some of her best work yet. She was second guessing her choice now that fall was upon them. Although truth be told the stormy sea photos shed captured were fabulous as well.
Today was one of those days she was wishing she was in Hawaii. The North Atlantic was putting up a fight today and it wasn’t fit for man or beast outside. She no sooner. Has that thought when she sees him walking down the beach. She could set her watch by his daily walks. She wondered how far he’d get today. His stride seemed stronger and more surer that it had before. She curled up in her favourite chair. The heavy wool blanket wrapped around her as she held her steaming mug of coffee, both an attempt to keep the cold and dampness at bay as she watched his silhouette disappear into the rain and fog.
By the time she same him come back past, he was hunched against the bitter wind. She knew by the way he moved that he’d overdone it as his gait was stilted once again and he’d lost the confidence of his previous trips down the beach. The dampness had seeped into her chilling her to her bones and she was ready to go ack inside. It was then she saw him stop and look up toward her cottage and raise a hand. On instinct, she returned his greeting and watched as he then continued on his way. She was obviously busted, but she had a feeling that it wasn’t in a bad way. She’d just have to wait and see.
I have a friend in Ogunquit who takes sunrise pictures every morning. https://www.facebook.com/MoonOerMaine/ Just saying. You made them vividly come to mind
Title:Love you best when you are savage and bitter (Batman: The Telltale Series - John Doe/Harley Quinn, T; 500w) Tags: Knifeplay and bloodplay of sorts Summary:"What's that hideous thing you're wearin'?" she asks, face mirroring the disgust in her voice.
Crait (536 words) by ChokolatteJedi Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Finn (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Community: 1-million-words, Spoilers, Senses Summary: As places to make a last stand went, Crait could have been better, but also could have been worse.
1_million_words
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“Get that ready for supper,” Millie said.
I looked at the fish, its glassy eye staring up at me, unseeing. “I never-“
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Millie grabbed a cleaver and made a clean chop through the fish’s tail. I looked away before she brought it down again, but could hear the sharp chop of the cleaver hitting the cutting board.
She handed me a fileting knife. “Now it should be easy.”
Easy? I grabbed what was left of the fish, felt the spikiness of the fins against my hand as I made the first cut along the silver skin.
I felt the bile rise in my throat as I slit the fish down the middle. It was so much easier when I was a kid. Mom bought fish sticks from the market.
“Gotta take the bones out.”
I delved into the silvery flesh, removing tiny pieces of bone as I went. When I was done, I let Millie inspect it. “Good,” she said. She took the fish, dusted it with cornmeal and carefully set it in a pan of hot oil. Within minutes, the smell of fried fish filled the house.
I opened up the kitchen window to release some of the smell. Millie looked at me as if I was crazy. The fish sticks my mom had baked never smelled like this.
Twenty minutes later, we sat down at the kitchen table to eat. Millie prayed the blessing, then waited as I tentatively pierced the skin of the fish. I carefully lifted it to my mouth, noticing that most of the powerful smell had disappeared. I tasted it. It wasn’t like anything that I tasted before- not the fish sticks that mom had made, not the tuna fish with mayonnaise that we’d spread on crackers for a snack. It was its own taste and it was delicious.
He stepped out onto the porch and took a deep breath. He could smell the salt of the ocean and the scent of seaweed that always seemed prevalent on rainy stormy days. It was the third or fourth day of rain, but he could deal with that. He wasn’t going to stop his daily walks just because of the rain. He could already tell the difference in his leg due to the walks down the beach. His limp wasn’t nearly as bad and he could stand on it longer and longer without stabbing pain.
Pulling his hood up over his head, he took his stick and headed down the steps. The rain pelted down on his head and back in almost a relaxing tattoo as he walked. With each step the stiffness of his muscles loosened and. His limp lessened even more. As he walked he counted the houses that lined the beach, each day he wanted to make it further than he did the day before. He didn’t always make his goal, but today he was determined. The sand sucked at his feet until he got closer to the waterline where it was packed more. Driftwood logs dotted the beach. They were smooth and almost slimy as he ran his hand along the ones stacked enough to touch without leaning too much. On dry days, they had been perfect seats to rest as he built up his strength.
The rain and fog blurred his vision but he could still barely sight the house that was his landmark and turn around point. The closer he got to it, he could feel the slight twinge to his muscles telling him that he was reaching the limit of what he could do and still be able to make it back home.
He stopped in front of the blue house with the driftwood decorations and stopped. Taking a deep breath, the satisfaction of reaching his goal made him smile. Turning he headed back, the rain that had been at his back now stung his face and hands as he walked. His head down, he watched every step he took knowing the returning pain and stiffness would make him clumsy and the risk of falling greater.
Focusing on the sound of the rain beating down on his head and the waves rhythmically crashing on the shore, he used it as a focus instead of the pain that was starting to shoot down his leg. Stopping once, he looked around and spotted the cute white cottage that intrigued him, he could see the owner sitting on the porch. One of these days he was going to have to go up and talk to her. Today wasn’t that day however, the pain in his leg was too much for him to be polite company and if he was going to introduce himself he’d rather do it when he wasn’t in pain.
Raising his hand, he waved and saw her answering wave, before continuing on.
498 words
Edited at 2018-01-11 08:50 pm (UTC)
She really hated the cold and rain and often wondered about her sanity when she chose to move to coastal Maine. Granted the Summer had been beautiful and the photographs she’d taken around Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park were some of her best work yet. She was second guessing her choice now that fall was upon them. Although truth be told the stormy sea photos shed captured were fabulous as well.
Today was one of those days she was wishing she was in Hawaii. The North Atlantic was putting up a fight today and it wasn’t fit for man or beast outside. She no sooner. Has that thought when she sees him walking down the beach. She could set her watch by his daily walks. She wondered how far he’d get today. His stride seemed stronger and more surer that it had before. She curled up in her favourite chair. The heavy wool blanket wrapped around her as she held her steaming mug of coffee, both an attempt to keep the cold and dampness at bay as she watched his silhouette disappear into the rain and fog.
By the time she same him come back past, he was hunched against the bitter wind. She knew by the way he moved that he’d overdone it as his gait was stilted once again and he’d lost the confidence of his previous trips down the beach. The dampness had seeped into her chilling her to her bones and she was ready to go ack inside. It was then she saw him stop and look up toward her cottage and raise a hand. On instinct, she returned his greeting and watched as he then continued on his way. She was obviously busted, but she had a feeling that it wasn’t in a bad way. She’d just have to wait and see.
308 words
Edited at 2018-01-11 09:51 pm (UTC)
I have a friend in Ogunquit who takes sunrise pictures every morning. https://www.facebook.com/MoonOerMaine/
Just saying. You made them vividly come to mind
Which will happen soon I hope.
Fandom: Legion
Rated: G/PG (nothing dangerous, but might be dark for some)
All of the senses...in an otherwise sense-less location ;)
http://archiveofourown.org/works/10527315/chapters/30548883
And thank you. Took me two days to put that together as I kept fighting for the words I wanted.
Tags: Knifeplay and bloodplay of sorts
Summary: "What's that hideous thing you're wearin'?" she asks, face mirroring the disgust in her voice.
ETA: Does this challenge have an AO3 collection?
Edited at 2018-01-13 01:02 am (UTC)
Not yet, to my knowledge, but I'm sure
eta: here's the AO3 link http://archiveofourown.org/collections/1_Million_Give_It_a_Whirl I think I have everything right for it.
Edited at 2018-01-14 02:08 am (UTC)
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Finn (Star Wars)
Additional Tags: Community: 1-million-words, Spoilers, Senses
Summary: As places to make a last stand went, Crait could have been better, but also could have been worse.