Bridle Sweet, Sanity, Still of the Night, Memories


Four separate drabbles written for the 2-Day Drabbles challenge on the discoveredinalj livejournal community

Bridle Sweet

"Fucking horses. Why'd you decide to bring us here?" Bodie grumbled.

Merrily trotting on ahead, knowing Bodie's hatred of horses, Doyle grinned. "Because," he said, "it was my turn to choose."

"How do I stop the stupid thing? Wish I was in my Capri. Love my Capri. It goes fast when I want it to, stops exactly when I-"

"Jiggle the bridle," Doyle interrupted.

As Bodie shot forward clinging onto the horse's mane for dear life and muttering what Doyle presumed to be foreign curse words, he knew whatever 'punishment' Bodie was going to impose, it'd been worth every second.


Sanity, Bodie thought, was decidedly overrated. Particularly on a day like this.

They'd taken themselves off to the zoo for the day -- out of Cowley's reach -- and, having shared plenty of food and drink, were now wandering around the monkey enclosure.

Doyle, it appeared, had partaken of just a little too much booze and had started to prance around imitating each primate he saw. The monkeys were not particularly impressed and ignored him.

Bodie couldn't.

He sat on a low wall and watched Doyle's antics, grinning at an unusually athletic manoeuvre. And fell deeper in love.

Sanity? Who needed it!

Still of the Night

The cold chill of the night coupled with the dense fog helped to hide him in the shadows.

Lurking there like a spy. No, not a spy; a spider waiting to kill the prey.


...he didn't want to kill.

He didn't even want to spy.

In reality, he didn't even want to be there.

It was like a compulsion; like he had to be there or die.

The fascination had increased day by day, night by night, until the magnet had drawn him close.

And so he watched.

Silently in the dark.

Waiting for the right time to strike.


It didn't seem right.

Going through things that had meaning once upon a time, and held a million memories. Ideas, thoughts, and feelings, that *he* had felt.

The pocket watch felt strong in his hand. The time ticking away as it had done since the day it'd been bought.

Like an egg timer counting down the days to death. A morbid view but true.



"Look at this. It's his watch. Wonder how long he had it. Wonder what memories it holds."

A single glance.

"You always were his blue eyed boy."

"I know. I'll miss Cowley."

"I know."

-- THE END --

September 2007

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