weekly drabble challenge

[momentarylapse8.livejournal.com]

Rules:

1) A drabble is, by definition, a 100-word story therefore all responses should be 100 words exactly, no exceptions.
2) You may also choose to respond to this challenge with a five-minute sketch.
3) PLEASE put the word DRABBLE at the top of your post. That way people can easily spot the drabbles in amongst any reader comments they receive.

RATING: I don't think this should be limited so reader beware that they could be any rating (you could put it in the subject line if you feel it needs it)

PLEASE try to remember to make each drabble a comment in response to the original post. That way, if the comments start to collapse, the drabbles themselves should remain visible. 

Time

It flies, it's wasted, it's too short, it drags, there's never enough, you can kill it but then some days you just can't find it.

So...it's Friday again - how the deuce did that happen??
Have a link to something awesome - under the cut

Have this for no particular reason. I was looking for something time related and this came up - gosh darned lovely. Use it for inspiration should you so wish.

Stardust

The melody of this song was written in 1927 by Hoagy Carmichael and the lyrics added by Mitchell Parish two years later. It was first recorded in 1927 by Emil Seidel and became a hit in 1930 with Isham Jones' version. This song became so popular that many prominent singers and bands recorded it including Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby, Benny Goodman and Nat King Cole

Lyrics (Excerpt)

Sometimes I wonder why I spend
The lonely nights
Dreaming of a song.
The melody haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you.
When our love was new, and each kiss an inspiration.
But that was long ago, and now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song.

Related Video:

Listen to Nat King Cole singing "Stardust" courtesy of YouTube.

Comments

[random-nexus.livejournal.com]

(I'm so, so, so sorry, my dears. The word 'time' and the song just took me here...)

---

DRABBLE: And I Am Once Again With You

Lights turned low, their favourite old song plays in the sitting room. The last important letter is propped upon the piano; its keys silent these past months, the reason for playing gone.

Already feeling a little woozy, Bertie drinks the last of his special 'tea' and sets the tumbler aside as he climbs in. Hugging the other pillow, the scent that barely lingers upon it brings a lump to his throat.

"...The melody haunts my reverie... and I am once again with you..." He sings softly, as he once did to his lover, his Reg, drifting off with a sigh.

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

You hurt me. oh ow how you hurt me.

[hbomb90.livejournal.com]

Gorgeous and heartbreaking and perfect.

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Weeping... but in a good way. Poor angel.

[hbomb90.livejournal.com]

Drabble Stop all the clocks

Time is a great healer. Ironically, the person who originally said that is now lost in the mists of it.

Anyway, it is absolute rot. Time is a matter of distance, not a panacea.

As usual Jeeves waits with the car as I walk to the family plot, my feet crunching a path through the frost, frigid fingers gripping the Christmas wreath.

I stand before the grave, my parents still together as they were in life. I remember being a child, losing them.

Afterwards, Jeeves says nothing to my red eyes, but rests a strong, supportive hand on my shoulder.

Doin' the angst dance too...

[cat94208.livejournal.com]

Aww poor Bertie. I love fics that mention his parents.

[hbomb90.livejournal.com]

Me too! I have this notion that Bertie would be *such* a mummy's boy, probably because he's always surrounded by overbearing aunts...

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

I always wonder about Bertie's parents; how they died, how he handled it, what his childhood was really like. He rarely says much about any of it.

[hbomb90.livejournal.com]

I wonder too. My head canon is that he lost them when he was quite young, as in pre teen, but can remember them well. I also like to think that his penchant for bright, outlandish fashions comes from his mother, because she swanned around in brightly coloured stuff after a staid, Victorian childhood.

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

Mine, too. I'd place it when he was about 7 or 8. He talks about having grown up in his aunts' custody, so it would have had to have been fairly early. And he does mention his parents once or twice, but only in passing. He obviously remembers them. I can't help thinking he doesn't talk about them because he still misses them and doesn't want to think about it.

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Love the use of "rot" and "panacea" in the same line. Very sweet.

[hbomb90.livejournal.com]

D'aww thanks! Bertie's not just a pretty face ;)

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Drabble: To his coy Bertram


"...but world enough and time..." Reg rarely indulged when his young master was expected, but years of longing sometimes reduced him to this. Maudlin moping. And Marvell.

A muffled thump at the door heralded the young master, tousled, flushed and delightfully unsteady. Perhaps he would need to be lifted into the bed.

"Jeeves!" Bertie slurred from the doormat. "Good man, wonder, paragon..." Reg closed his eyes under the crushing emotion of an embrace. This time, Bertram refused to let go. "No, please, stay. Please."

Against his better judgement, Reg did. In the morning, Bertram asked, "What took us so long?"

[hbomb90.livejournal.com]

Just lovely!

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

Thank-you!

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

WHEEEE!

[godsdaisiechain.livejournal.com]

; )