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bonnefoisTitle: Fluorescence, a minor change in details, Lines (three seperate ficlets)
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
measuringlife
Rating: None go above PG
Pairing: Lain/Alice
Fandom: Serial Experiments Lain
Theme(s): multi-ficlets: #4 our distance and that person, #5 “Ano sa”, #6 The space between dream and reality
Disclaimer: Serial Experiments Lain belongs to people who’s names I am too tired to remember.
Please forgive the long absence – classes ate my life completely.
Each is a separate ficlet, mind you, thus I’m not going to categorize them all with the official header, as they all share the same pairing and whatnot – each part will have it’s title and theme above it, though :D
4. our distance and that person * Fluorescence
A moth beats itself against the light, again and again, unceasing, unending in circular florid movements.
“Why? Why do you try so hard?” she says, her voice breaking from the effort.
A door opens, closes. Mika walks in, looks through Lain – not at Lain for to look at her would mean that she was significant, that she was more than just an obstacle, an irritation, a non-entity.
An annoyed noise, a scoff, a dismissal, and she moves away, leaving Lain to silence, except for the moths’ frantically beating wings, and the hum of the light.
Lain remembers times when she was younger.
The little things, like playing doctor to stuffed animals with her mother’s emery board.
Mika would smile, taking the bear and kiss it on the nose before handing it back to her.
“It’ll get better, I’m sure.”
Mika – the old Mika, the previous Mika then went to do homework. Her family ate dinner together and there was more company than silence.
She wonders what changed. How the people in her life became strangers, mere shadows of something they used to be.
A moth beats itself against the light, again and again, unceasing, unending in circular florid movements. She watches, and thinks that maybe, she might understand.
--
5. "ano sa" ("hey, you know....")* a minor change in details -
“Hey, you know...”
“What?”
“A girl died. ‘That girl’”
“Really?! Which girl?”
“The weird girl, class B”
“Iwakura Lain?”
“No, no, the other one.”
A few movements, just a rubix cube’s diameter of change and it could’ve been her. In stays with her, the words pushing, pulsating to an almost obsession.
“The weird girl, class B.”
“Chisa Yamada?”
“No, the other one.”
It pressed into her mind, like a flower being dried between the aged pages of a book – (fine literature, perhaps, or a lurid novella) – picked off at the stem, absconded away it is captured, caged between words and ideas which suffocate it, mummify it to such pleasant and whimsical marks.
Until just its body, its dried corpse of memories remain.
She wonders what Chisa felt when she kissed her life goodbye with one final sweep of hands. Before she flung herself to the pavement and shattered as if made of fine china.
She wonders if Chisa’s ghost isn’t a figment of her imagination – or perhaps a mirror which she looks into, a reminder of this – as Chisa smiles back, the other weird girl from Class B.
–
6. the space between dream and reality * Lines.
She traces lines on flat surfaces. The reflection of her hand seems warped, like funhouse mirrors. – or is it the other way around?, she thinks. Maybe the surface is fine, but I am not.
She walks the thin line of sanity each day. But she does rather well, consdiering. She does not drown herself in pity, rather in apathy. When there is no feeling, it is an analgesic. If she closes her eyes, it feels as if she is walking backwards through crowds who don’t quite notice the girl transcending time and reason before their eyes.
Yet, there are other thin lines to focus on, the lines of the pleats on Alice’s skirt, the soft lines of Alice’s plain, brown hair. The line of lashes and sloping line of nose.
The lines of Alice’s lips when she smiles and says “A kiss to make it better?” for each scratch,
cut or bruise Lain gets.
–
Author/Artist:
measuringlifeRating: None go above PG
Pairing: Lain/Alice
Fandom: Serial Experiments Lain
Theme(s): multi-ficlets: #4 our distance and that person, #5 “Ano sa”, #6 The space between dream and reality
Disclaimer: Serial Experiments Lain belongs to people who’s names I am too tired to remember.
Please forgive the long absence – classes ate my life completely.
Each is a separate ficlet, mind you, thus I’m not going to categorize them all with the official header, as they all share the same pairing and whatnot – each part will have it’s title and theme above it, though :D
4. our distance and that person * Fluorescence
A moth beats itself against the light, again and again, unceasing, unending in circular florid movements.
“Why? Why do you try so hard?” she says, her voice breaking from the effort.
A door opens, closes. Mika walks in, looks through Lain – not at Lain for to look at her would mean that she was significant, that she was more than just an obstacle, an irritation, a non-entity.
An annoyed noise, a scoff, a dismissal, and she moves away, leaving Lain to silence, except for the moths’ frantically beating wings, and the hum of the light.
Lain remembers times when she was younger.
The little things, like playing doctor to stuffed animals with her mother’s emery board.
Mika would smile, taking the bear and kiss it on the nose before handing it back to her.
“It’ll get better, I’m sure.”
Mika – the old Mika, the previous Mika then went to do homework. Her family ate dinner together and there was more company than silence.
She wonders what changed. How the people in her life became strangers, mere shadows of something they used to be.
A moth beats itself against the light, again and again, unceasing, unending in circular florid movements. She watches, and thinks that maybe, she might understand.
--
5. "ano sa" ("hey, you know....")* a minor change in details -
“Hey, you know...”
“What?”
“A girl died. ‘That girl’”
“Really?! Which girl?”
“The weird girl, class B”
“Iwakura Lain?”
“No, no, the other one.”
A few movements, just a rubix cube’s diameter of change and it could’ve been her. In stays with her, the words pushing, pulsating to an almost obsession.
“The weird girl, class B.”
“Chisa Yamada?”
“No, the other one.”
It pressed into her mind, like a flower being dried between the aged pages of a book – (fine literature, perhaps, or a lurid novella) – picked off at the stem, absconded away it is captured, caged between words and ideas which suffocate it, mummify it to such pleasant and whimsical marks.
Until just its body, its dried corpse of memories remain.
She wonders what Chisa felt when she kissed her life goodbye with one final sweep of hands. Before she flung herself to the pavement and shattered as if made of fine china.
She wonders if Chisa’s ghost isn’t a figment of her imagination – or perhaps a mirror which she looks into, a reminder of this – as Chisa smiles back, the other weird girl from Class B.
–
6. the space between dream and reality * Lines.
She traces lines on flat surfaces. The reflection of her hand seems warped, like funhouse mirrors. – or is it the other way around?, she thinks. Maybe the surface is fine, but I am not.
She walks the thin line of sanity each day. But she does rather well, consdiering. She does not drown herself in pity, rather in apathy. When there is no feeling, it is an analgesic. If she closes her eyes, it feels as if she is walking backwards through crowds who don’t quite notice the girl transcending time and reason before their eyes.
Yet, there are other thin lines to focus on, the lines of the pleats on Alice’s skirt, the soft lines of Alice’s plain, brown hair. The line of lashes and sloping line of nose.
The lines of Alice’s lips when she smiles and says “A kiss to make it better?” for each scratch,
cut or bruise Lain gets.
–
