StilesLong's One-shots - The Secret Santa
Posted: Tue Jul 04, 2017 9:39 pm
Blackout
Inspired by http://pascalcampion.deviantart.com/art ... -689944937
Snowflakes blow in swirling eddies past my window, visible only for a moment as they pass through the muted glow of a small candle. My hand instinctively moves to the right side of my face as the thought of the fire enters my mind, this even though I was alone (my boyfriend doesn’t count) in the room! I dismiss it as nothing more than a tic, or an unavoidable physical side-effect of waking up from a nightmare, like the sweat or the racing heart. Nothing to be ashamed of, I tell myself to keep the bad thoughts at bay.
My literary mind draws me to the irony of the situation: a horribly-scarred burn victim sitting near an open flame, after heating a pot of tea with another open flame! Is that more or less ironic than me not owning a single flashlight despite installing extra smoke alarms? I set these thoughts aside and let pride wash over me: five years ago, I wouldn’t have even dreamt of using candles in a blackout, given what happened. It’s amazing what time and support will do for a person.
I look over at the bed to Hisao’s sleeping form, familiar now after all these years. I could trace every line of his face, they’re so etched in my mind. After a moment, I realize I’m smiling a small, private smile. It’s the only reaction I can muster to the happiness, past and future, I hope to feel for him and with him. If I give out awards for most supportive, Hisao would get first place, of course, but how many others have there been?
Natsumi and Naomi from the newspaper club, my best friend Lilly, all those strangers who don’t shy away from the scars that cover my face, back and arm, the countless nurses and doctors who took care of me following the accident, my mother… My eyes tear up at the last, but I wipe them away with measured practice.
Do those who’ve helped me know how much of a difference they’ve made on my life? Will I ever get the chance to return the favour, or even to help others the way I’ve been helped so much? I hope so, but too many of them are like the snowflakes outside my window: they blew through my lives, visible for only a short while. Some would take longer to drift past me but they’ll all slip away on the twisting winds someday. It makes me sad to think that but still, enough snowflakes can eventually make a difference on those around them. They can cause blackouts and create flurries, or even be used to create beautiful art, like snow-sculptures or snowmen.
I wonder for a moment what I’ll do with all the snow in my life, then I laugh softly: my analogy has gotten a little forced. Oh well, aren’t they all? I pull my big blue sweater a little tighter around me then I drink down the rest of my tea to stave off the cold that’s creeping in.
Snuffing out the candles, I plunge the room into darkness. With skill that rivals Lilly’s ability to move around without sight, I feel my way back to the warm bed and climb in. Hiaso stirs, but surprisingly doesn’t wake up; his heart medicine normally plays havoc on his sleep schedule. Wrapped in the warm blankets, I drift to sleep quickly for once, snowflakes still dancing in my dreams.
Inspired by http://pascalcampion.deviantart.com/art ... -689944937
Snowflakes blow in swirling eddies past my window, visible only for a moment as they pass through the muted glow of a small candle. My hand instinctively moves to the right side of my face as the thought of the fire enters my mind, this even though I was alone (my boyfriend doesn’t count) in the room! I dismiss it as nothing more than a tic, or an unavoidable physical side-effect of waking up from a nightmare, like the sweat or the racing heart. Nothing to be ashamed of, I tell myself to keep the bad thoughts at bay.
My literary mind draws me to the irony of the situation: a horribly-scarred burn victim sitting near an open flame, after heating a pot of tea with another open flame! Is that more or less ironic than me not owning a single flashlight despite installing extra smoke alarms? I set these thoughts aside and let pride wash over me: five years ago, I wouldn’t have even dreamt of using candles in a blackout, given what happened. It’s amazing what time and support will do for a person.
I look over at the bed to Hisao’s sleeping form, familiar now after all these years. I could trace every line of his face, they’re so etched in my mind. After a moment, I realize I’m smiling a small, private smile. It’s the only reaction I can muster to the happiness, past and future, I hope to feel for him and with him. If I give out awards for most supportive, Hisao would get first place, of course, but how many others have there been?
Natsumi and Naomi from the newspaper club, my best friend Lilly, all those strangers who don’t shy away from the scars that cover my face, back and arm, the countless nurses and doctors who took care of me following the accident, my mother… My eyes tear up at the last, but I wipe them away with measured practice.
Do those who’ve helped me know how much of a difference they’ve made on my life? Will I ever get the chance to return the favour, or even to help others the way I’ve been helped so much? I hope so, but too many of them are like the snowflakes outside my window: they blew through my lives, visible for only a short while. Some would take longer to drift past me but they’ll all slip away on the twisting winds someday. It makes me sad to think that but still, enough snowflakes can eventually make a difference on those around them. They can cause blackouts and create flurries, or even be used to create beautiful art, like snow-sculptures or snowmen.
I wonder for a moment what I’ll do with all the snow in my life, then I laugh softly: my analogy has gotten a little forced. Oh well, aren’t they all? I pull my big blue sweater a little tighter around me then I drink down the rest of my tea to stave off the cold that’s creeping in.
Snuffing out the candles, I plunge the room into darkness. With skill that rivals Lilly’s ability to move around without sight, I feel my way back to the warm bed and climb in. Hiaso stirs, but surprisingly doesn’t wake up; his heart medicine normally plays havoc on his sleep schedule. Wrapped in the warm blankets, I drift to sleep quickly for once, snowflakes still dancing in my dreams.