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03 December 2014 @ 08:22 pm
Flash Fiction: Keeper  

This Advent, I am participating in a digital... project? program? experience, I'll say. Each day brings a different prompt, a word from a Bible verse, and you are to create something relating to said prompt. It can be anything, really, so I am just being creative and letting whatever medium inspires me that day, inspire me. Everything is digitally archived with #AdventUs so the project organizers can track things and interact. It's pretty snazzy. Details, and the various prompts, are available here. There are still 22 days left if any of you want to get involved!

So, overview out of the way. Introduction to the piece: My first real attempt at flash fiction. Initially my goal was 300 words, but this is over that by a bit. Yet it feels complete, so I've elected to bend my own rule/guideline a bit. The story is unfailingly uplifting, because the verse for today is so inspiring to me even if it doesn't seem to be (Genesis 4:9, "Am I my sister's/brother's #keeper?") and because there's so much sad stuff going on right now I needed to counterbalance it in whatever small way I could. (It is also unpolished, because I feel like the spirit of the exercise is to be spontaneous and let things happen as they will.)


It was cruel, that it ended this way. After all the work they’d done, the practices, the drills, the hard-fought game against the Lions that tested every player to their absolute limit. It was cruel, that a carelessly- they couldn’t think viciously- aimed ball had crushed their dreams.

They would win, of course. Obviously they would; they were up by 17 points with mere minutes remaining, and the momentum was entirely on their side. They would win, but without Abigail. Abigail, with the smooth skin and the bright brown eyes and the scar over the left side of her mouth that quirked her lips adorably when she smiled. The smile... that was what all of this had been for, this season. Secretly; Abigail would have been so embarrassed had she known. But it was all for that smile, which no one on the team had even seen until Abby’s third year. But that one smile was enough for everybody, unanimously and even without much discussion, to make it their mission to see it again.

But Abigail was out, now, her leg unquestionably broken. She couldn’t very well goalkeep on one foot. And yet it seemed wrong, desperately unfair, to finish the season like this. She was important. She needed to be here.

Two guards nodded to each other, decisive and sure, and the Captain read their minds and called for time. Abigail’s stretcher hadn’t yet risen above the pristine grass, and a firm hand on the medic’s shoulder prevented the motion from ever occurring. She had sat up at their approach, trying and failing to paste any expression that wasn’t a grimace onto her heart-shaped face. The guards, her friends, gently cradled her shoulders and hoisted her into a standing position, smoothly accepting her weight as their own.

Together, the three of them hobbled to the goal and stationed themselves in the center, slightly crouching to accommodate Abby’s standard ready pose. The captain signaled for play to began, but for a moment, nobody moved. And then, the greatest cheer the stadium had ever heard erupted, from yellow-and-black Badgers and green-and-silver Snakes alike. And Abigail beamed.
Writing from: My "new" digs
I'm feeling: uplifted