Drabble #43
Aug. 24th, 2009 03:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sagesariaPrompt: #44: Gloomy
Fandom: Skary.net; Ida's Luck
Genre: Angst. Horror?
Rating: PG
Notes: If you haven't seen any of Katy Towel's work, namely of course Ida's Luck, I highly encourage you to go here now and watch it before reading this. And check out her other work on the channel and on skary.net when you can.
I've noticed while writing for this challenge that most of my drabbles are character studies. Pretty much I just spend the whole drabble talking about things that already happened in canon, not covering much new ground. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But in this case, hey, why not. I always liked Mr. Pea and wanted to do something for him.
Mr. Pea's hand lingered on the steering wheel for a long time as he shut off the engine to his car. His face seemed the same as ever, but his heart remained clenched in a knot.
Slowly he brought one leg, then the other out of the car, crawling out of the vehicle and dragging himself to the backseat door. Ida sat in the back seat, as still as ever, playing with the sleeves of her red wool sweater. Slowly she turned her head, big black eyes staring at him, as though trying to tell him something. What it was, he wouldn't know. The strange little girl never spoke a word in all the time he came to know her.
Once again he lingered, his hand barely grasping the door handle. Oh how he hated for it to come to this. He wouldn't admit it, but he grew so fond of little Ida in the short time she was with him and Mrs. Pea. She was so well behaved, a child he would have wanted in his younger years. He remembered how she would sit by the fire next to him with a bubble pipe and a picture book, just as he smoked his own pipe while reading the paper. Or how she would always look up at him during dinner and offer him a little smile, and he would almost smile back.
But when the terrible things started to happen, he was soon left with no other choice. At first he could have found another explanation for the strange things happening in the town, even as the more suspicious folk pointed fingers, calling Ida bad luck. Surely Mrs, Pheasant was exaggerating about her Petey's broken leg, and snakes were known to appear in the grass before. Surely there was even a reason that bat in the park grew so big.
But soon it started to get too strange for answers, and the coincidences of Ida's presence were getting harder to explain. And now they finally cost him of his Gladys. He clutched the car door's handle inside his fist as he remembered when the doctors told him the horrible news. The Gladys Pea that he married fourty years ago was now only a cold shell, just barely alive enough to keep itself that way. No answers, no reasons. Only that Ida was there the whole time.
Slowly he finally opened the door, plucking Ida out of her seat and cradling her against his hip as he reached for the case he packed for her. She clung to his shoulder, tugging at the collar of his shirt, her eyes wide and her lip quivering. She knew what was happening, he could tell. But there was nothing he could do. The gossip and the propaganda, and of course the disasters themselves, were too much. He couldn't stand the stares and the jeers as he walked through town with the little girl, even when Gladys was with him. He had begun to suspect just as they did that this little girl was bad luck. All he could do now was get as far away from her as he could, before he lost even more.
He placed the suitcase on the porch of reverend Caraway's house, then shortly after set Ida down, turning to go back to the car. She stopped him, clinging to his leg and choking out a quiet sob. He looked down at her, his expression still as unreadable as ever. Tears streamed down Ida's face as she looked up at him, tugging on his pant leg. If only she would talk to him. Maybe then something could be done, if she knew anything about this. It wouldn't have to come to this. Just one word from the girl's lips could make it all go away. But as long as she never said a word, there was only one answer.
Begrudgingly he pried himself away from her tiny hands, once again setting her on the porch. This time he stayed just a moment, looking the little girl up and down one last time. Finally he slowly placed a burly hand on the top of her head, petting her hair softly before turning again to leave. This time Ida did not follow.
As he got back into the car and proceeded to drive home, he watched Ida from the rear-view mirror, extending her arms out to the departing car, sobbing, begging with her eyes for him to come back. He slowly readjusted his golfing hat and muttered a silent prayer for Gladys to forgive him.
Fandom: Skary.net; Ida's Luck
Genre: Angst. Horror?
Rating: PG
Notes: If you haven't seen any of Katy Towel's work, namely of course Ida's Luck, I highly encourage you to go here now and watch it before reading this. And check out her other work on the channel and on skary.net when you can.
I've noticed while writing for this challenge that most of my drabbles are character studies. Pretty much I just spend the whole drabble talking about things that already happened in canon, not covering much new ground. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But in this case, hey, why not. I always liked Mr. Pea and wanted to do something for him.
Mr. Pea's hand lingered on the steering wheel for a long time as he shut off the engine to his car. His face seemed the same as ever, but his heart remained clenched in a knot.
Slowly he brought one leg, then the other out of the car, crawling out of the vehicle and dragging himself to the backseat door. Ida sat in the back seat, as still as ever, playing with the sleeves of her red wool sweater. Slowly she turned her head, big black eyes staring at him, as though trying to tell him something. What it was, he wouldn't know. The strange little girl never spoke a word in all the time he came to know her.
Once again he lingered, his hand barely grasping the door handle. Oh how he hated for it to come to this. He wouldn't admit it, but he grew so fond of little Ida in the short time she was with him and Mrs. Pea. She was so well behaved, a child he would have wanted in his younger years. He remembered how she would sit by the fire next to him with a bubble pipe and a picture book, just as he smoked his own pipe while reading the paper. Or how she would always look up at him during dinner and offer him a little smile, and he would almost smile back.
But when the terrible things started to happen, he was soon left with no other choice. At first he could have found another explanation for the strange things happening in the town, even as the more suspicious folk pointed fingers, calling Ida bad luck. Surely Mrs, Pheasant was exaggerating about her Petey's broken leg, and snakes were known to appear in the grass before. Surely there was even a reason that bat in the park grew so big.
But soon it started to get too strange for answers, and the coincidences of Ida's presence were getting harder to explain. And now they finally cost him of his Gladys. He clutched the car door's handle inside his fist as he remembered when the doctors told him the horrible news. The Gladys Pea that he married fourty years ago was now only a cold shell, just barely alive enough to keep itself that way. No answers, no reasons. Only that Ida was there the whole time.
Slowly he finally opened the door, plucking Ida out of her seat and cradling her against his hip as he reached for the case he packed for her. She clung to his shoulder, tugging at the collar of his shirt, her eyes wide and her lip quivering. She knew what was happening, he could tell. But there was nothing he could do. The gossip and the propaganda, and of course the disasters themselves, were too much. He couldn't stand the stares and the jeers as he walked through town with the little girl, even when Gladys was with him. He had begun to suspect just as they did that this little girl was bad luck. All he could do now was get as far away from her as he could, before he lost even more.
He placed the suitcase on the porch of reverend Caraway's house, then shortly after set Ida down, turning to go back to the car. She stopped him, clinging to his leg and choking out a quiet sob. He looked down at her, his expression still as unreadable as ever. Tears streamed down Ida's face as she looked up at him, tugging on his pant leg. If only she would talk to him. Maybe then something could be done, if she knew anything about this. It wouldn't have to come to this. Just one word from the girl's lips could make it all go away. But as long as she never said a word, there was only one answer.
Begrudgingly he pried himself away from her tiny hands, once again setting her on the porch. This time he stayed just a moment, looking the little girl up and down one last time. Finally he slowly placed a burly hand on the top of her head, petting her hair softly before turning again to leave. This time Ida did not follow.
As he got back into the car and proceeded to drive home, he watched Ida from the rear-view mirror, extending her arms out to the departing car, sobbing, begging with her eyes for him to come back. He slowly readjusted his golfing hat and muttered a silent prayer for Gladys to forgive him.
