Scribble: Scene from a future project?

      A candle's fickle flame danced upon the wick, as she looked across the tiny attic once more. Having slipped away from her companions as they slept, the waif couldn't help but smile at her new-found privacy, suppressing an anxious giggle in an effort not to wake them. Trying to brush away long silver locks, her fingertips graced the ornate leather patch where her left eye once had been, and the tender care someone had taken to ease the loss with beauty.
      Another gift, thought the waif, her single eye welling-up with a tear. One you promised you'd take back someday, if only to give me another. But that's not why I'm here...
      With a wistful sigh, she quickly unfastened the fabric above her breast, just enough to reveal a small, metal chamber where her heart might've been. Cautiously, her slender fingers tapped a gentle rhythm, as the circular seal shifted away, revealing but an elaborate series of gears and springs, roughly in the shape of a heart.
      Gently reaching inside, her fingers found a small locket, fitting in place with its surroundings almost perfectly, despite its peculiar shape. Staring longingly at the little rabbit of brass, the waif released yet another sigh, before folding the trinket into her pale, soft hands.
      Thank you, she thought, the faint clicking of her inner mechanisms sounding almost like a song. May we meet again so very soon...

Scribble: What's this? Continuity?

      Mechanical eyes gazed out over the horizon, the lonesome figure standing perfectly still atop a jagged, frail cliff. A fierce wind threatened to rip away the observer's tattered cloak and scarf, holding back only for the great hammer clutched within its brass and copper fist. Paying the interloper no mind, the figure continued to survey the bleak landscape below, punctuated only with earthen spires and the ghosts of mountains long past.
      No life remains, it thought, bowing its heavy, round head in concentration. No . . . life never took roost here, beyond the beast...
      Memories of a single red orb flashed across its mind, the hideous creaks of ancient joints ringing in the air. Returning to the present with a shake of its head, the figure stood in silence for but a moment, before nodding to no one.
      Then this will be our new forge, it thought, turning to the narrow, rocky path leading to the valley below. With heavy steps, the observer began its long descent, wielding the mighty hammer as a staff with each step. Catching the faintest hint of birdsong in the air, it paused, its metal body heaving something like a sigh beneath the rags.
      And perhaps, it thought again, pausing to turn its eyes skyward, life will soon follow.

Scribble: Waiting for the L...

...a new approach...

Flash Fiction: High Above the Clouds

      She glides along the dance floor, floating far above the myriad patterns of light with each sweeping movement. Flirtatious toes kissed the ground, playfully avoiding any deeper commitment to gravity, staying aloft on unseen music and a beaming smile. With each pounding beat, her untamed hands discovered new shapes drifting in the air, as her heart eagerly explored each new rhythm.
      Adrift on sweet melody, the sylph could only fly, bright eyes shining like stars in the flashing lights. Not even when toes kissed the shallowest of water would she stop, her body losing all inhibitions and soaring across the dance floor...
      ...right into his waiting, warm arms, and his familiar chuckle just waiting to tickle her ears.

Scribble: This is how I've been feeling lately.

      His eyes nervously scanned his surroundings, methodically looking in every direction that wasn't obscured by trees. Finding no others nearby, he released a brief sigh, a single gust of steam quietly whistling into the chill autumn air. He was alone; of this, there was no doubt.
      Looking up at his evergreen audience, the lines of his face crinkled in resignation. Carefully undoing the buttons of his long overcoat, he could hear the constant clicking in his ears grow louder. Did it always used to be like this? he asked himself, his expression betraying no despair or longing.
      Another set of buttons awaited his fingertips, his digits mechanically undoing each and every clasp with the greatest of speed. Without looking, his hand strayed to his exposed chest, reaching out of instinct.
      A mass of gears and springs came out, lazily winding-down, leaving a cold, deep hole where his heart should be.
      Did it always used to be like this?

Scribble: I couldn't figure out what he's applying to do.

      Birdsong drifted above the glistening waters, tickling the swimmers' ears as they laid upon the warm sand. Quietly they listened, their bare skin waiting for the sunlight to sate its thirst, as a stray thought floated over to the pile of neatly-folded shirts and jeans nearby. Sharing a towel and a smile with his companion, the taller of the two remained propped on his elbow, as emerald orbs gazed into the azure waters hidden beneath the other swimmer's eyes.
      "You're doing it again," the shorter said with a half-chuckle, hands folded neatly upon his flat stomach.
      "Doing what, pray tell?" said the first, his innocent tone doing little to obscure the grin upon his face.
      With a sigh, the shorter sat-up, using a hand to brush away stray granules of sand in his blond hair. "Oh, nothing, Lev," came the exasperated, yet willingly so, reply, "just making it painfully obvious that you're waiting for me to say something." With another half-chuckle, he added, "ass."
      Falling onto his back, the taller heaved a sigh of his own, comically raising a wrist to his forehead. "Oh, how quickly he hath discovered my ruse," he said with mock despair, trying to keep his grin at bay. "And it only took him this long to put the pieces together! Such admirable detective skills haven't been seen since Ryan discovered someone's secret affections for him!"
      A playful laugh soon followed, only to be left alone to linger in the air. The clever grin falling from his face, Lev looked over at the slender swimmer beside him, only to find him turned toward the water.
      "I'm sorry," he said, placing a hand gently upon his companion's shoulder. "I forgot about . . . you know."
      With another heaving sigh, a smaller, slender hand fell atop Lev's own. "It's okay," he replied, turning to face his companion with a smile upon his face, "I mean, I know you didn't mean that, just . . . couldn't help thinking about it, is all."
      For a brief moment, not even birdsong could be heard, as the gentle lapping of the waves roared like thunder. Without a sound, a pair of strong, inviting arms wrapped around the sullen swimmer's body, as a chin tenderly fell upon his shoulder.
      "Next year," came a soothing whisper, "you'll try again, and you'll make it. And just to be sure, promise me one little thing, and I'll do everything in my power to help."
      "What's that?" Ryan asked, awkwardly leaning into his companion's embrace.
      "Take me with you," came the mischievous reply, the grin glowing so brightly upon Lev's face that even the sunlight felt threatened by it. "And don't you dare try to slip away, either. We both know who's the strongest!"
      Squeezing his smaller companion tightly, Lev let loose a pathetic roar, soon joined by Ryan's stifled laughter. "Damn you!" Ryan cried out, playfully struggling in his companion's embrace, before giving-in entirely, nuzzling into a heaving, almost purring chest.
      "Will you, though?" Lev asked, running a hand through sandy blond locks. "Take me with you, I mean..."
      Without a word, the smaller gave a tender smile, before gently pressing his lips to his lover's own. "Of course," Ryan whispered, gazing into verdant fields, "after all, I might need help in honing my detective skills . . . ass."

Scribble: Once again, turning video game music into an excuse for sap.

      She smiled that usual smile, the one reserved only for a single someone, as she nuzzled deeper into an all-too-inviting coat. Swaying with each jerk of the train, the would-be dreamer slid an arm tightly around her lover's sleeve, trying to steady herself with minimal effort. Without a word, a slender hand soon fell atop her own, as her lover's face rested atop her head, her long, brown locks tickling her exposed cheek.
      “I'm not a pillow,” the would-be dreamer mumbled, the words slipping between consciousness and slumber.
      “Says the girl currently using my chest for the same thing,” came the playfully tired reply, as a laugh drifted slowly into the air.
      “You're lucky you're cute,” came another mumble, as the sleepyhead nuzzled deeper into the coat's soft, warm fabric, giving the sleeve another gentle tug.
      The ringing of the train kept silence from creeping in, as the only pair of open eyes stared beyond the scratched and weathered glass. Moments passed, as the sounds of the train soon faded away, emerging from the tunnel and into the clear, starry night.
      With a sigh, she gave the sleepyhead's little hand a squeeze, a bright smile beaming upon her tired face. “You're missing a beautiful night,” she teased, leaning over to kiss the dreamer's silver locks, open eyes never drifting from the sea of stars.
      “I beg to differ...” whispered the dreamer, giving her lover's hand a squeeze in return, just as slumber stole her away...