A piece of flash fiction, as lightly adapted from an inter-author character interaction with Tirzah Duncan.
D: Enough dash-about energy gone to be a boy again and take her hand for walking, as first intended.
T: There’s a helluva tingling in that.
In the breath-recovering relative stillness, the great question mark presses upward,
Wanting to turn into actual questions,
But she pushes it back down, because this is too nice to be spoilt by thinking about it.
D: Piles of the Autumn leaves burn.
He likes the flames, the light, the smoky smell.
T: It feels right. Delight, heat, and question all seem mirrored in the environ.
D: Some leaves, newly turned, flutter and fall from overhead.
He plucks one from the air,
Tucks it behind her ear.
T: She thinks him beautiful.
Not wrong, and not that she’s been blind,
But also not a thought she’s had so wholly before.
D: He thinks her… a delicious Red Apple.
Not to consume, but to delight in.
T: No questions, no questions, no questions.
It’s hard for her to keep her practical, straightforward, investigative side down,
But she really, really doesn’t want to be bothered with it just now.
D: His free hand’s fingers dance in the air, playing afar with the fire’s sparks.
They take on shapes suggestive of butterflies and dragons.
T: That’s better. She lets herself be rapt.
D: “Do you ever stop to notice,” he says, gaze on the pieces of blue between the boughs overhead, “what a fantastic young-adult cliché we look, right now?”
T: Her lips twitch.
“I’ve been working not to think about it,” she says, meaning more than simply that.
“But wasn’t that true from the first moment of
‘You be a human girl, I’ll be a Fey boy’? So it’s your fault.
Only thing I did wrong was have red hair and blue eyes.
I haven’t even bitten my lip.”
D: “Oh, never think I blame you! Though the red hair really is a bit much, Apple, did you have to.”
T: “That was all Da!” she protests.
But it is cliché, right down to the being confused about how I feel about all this, she thinks, cheeks blushing in embarrassment as well as frustration that such feelings are common to the point of overdone.
Feels like all of YA fed her a line.
To be concluded on Friday.