#fff178

[scaevolawrites]

FFF178 Second-Hand Soul

This was written for @flashfictionfridayofficial WC: 719

I sing. That’s what I do, and that’s what me and mine have always done. I started one day when I was young and gradually found it more and more difficult to stop. Singing had become a part of me. My voice rolled over the waves and washed onto the shores of the nearby isles.

At first, it was enough to just isolate myself from the others, to make sure my voice could travel for miles without being interrupted or disturbed. My voice was only meant for myself and those I wanted to hear it. But as I grew older that self-imposed isolation wasn’t enough anymore, the mere knowledge of others having the slightest chance to hear what my voice carried along with it was enough to send me into a panic. What my voice was, and what it sounded like was meant to be a secret known to but only a few. So I explained myself to the others of my kind and was relieved to be met with nothing but acceptance and understanding. Apparently, the affliction that I was suffering from was a common quarrel among my kind. And the remedy for it was as easy as it was cruel. I would have to travel far, long past the boundaries of anything I knew, and search for solitary or abandoned locales within the oceans. Only then would I be able to rest. Only then would my voice would be able to roam free and unencumbered by the fear of it being heard.

I left the others a day or two after we spoke, and as a parting gift, I was told a bit more about what was happening to me. I had lost something along the way, while I was growing up, or so they told me. I had not registered that loss and my singing had developed, grown, and eventually overtaken me. And now I had to go and find a replacement, to fill the void that now existed within me. Apparently. In quite the heavy contrast to our conversation, the others had become quite sober about the whole affair. To be honest, I couldn’t quite fathom why they were so grave and sullen about it all of a sudden, if I had lost it, I just would have to find it again, wouldn’t I?

That parting conversation, the looks on the faces of my kin, and my thoughts kept my mind occupied while I traversed the Seven Seas. Only after what felt like days, and when I was certain that I failed to recognize any markings within the ocean surrounding did I cast those thoughts from my mind. Only the advice to find a properly isolated or abandoned locale was still lodged inside of me, and thus I searched. It took some time, and the grottos, caves, atolls, and other isles I encountered never seemed to be the right fit, no matter how desolate they seemed. Whenever I seated myself within them and let my voice free, it just didn’t feel right. Even though that fear of my voice being heard by others had gone, it had now been replaced by the fear of not getting it right. And the void that others had told me existed within me, finally made itself known, screaming to be filled. My voice echoed through the caves or didn’t seem to carry on the wind as well as it did back home. It was just dissatisfying, for nothing seemed to fit well. The void grew bigger still.

Until I found a sunken vessel, along with the cliff that towered over it, like a stalwart reminder of the cruelty that had come to pass. I hoisted myself out of the rough and shallow waters and unto the jagged rocks. I let my voice free, and the song that sprung forth from me was nothing short of euphoric. I had found the place where my voice could be the clearest and roll the furthest. And when that ship appeared on the horizon, I knew what I had lost, and what had been missing. The souls on board that ship would provide me with it. Watching gleefully as the ship headed towards me I did what me and mine have always done. I sing.

[Taglist: @lazy-bumblebee @lexiklecksi Send an ask or comment to be +/-]

[renee-writer]

Call Me Josh Chapter 24

Written today for @flashfictionfridayofficial awesome prompt: Second Hand Soul, as well as NANO.

Rabbi Nicklaus thinks about what Joshua said all that night. Tossing and turning in his bed, he ponders. Does he have a second hand soul? A soul not as devoted to God as it should be? He has been a faithful Jew his whole life. Keeping kosher, keeping His commandments, even dedicating his life to God. But, is it enough? Could it ever be enough?

Sometime in the middle of that night, he recalls the way his eyes looked when he meet his at the hospital. Full of sorrow and love, as he caught his before entering the elevator and going up with his followers to the AIDS ward. Can he really be mitzvah if he fears taking the hand of a person that needs him. Joshua had cured a man there. The man and his stunned and wondering doctors held a press conference to tell the world. He could have witnessed it, were he not so scared, not just of the patients, or even mainly of them. In honesty, he was afraid of the others. That is why he had meet him at the park in the night.

He didn’t want Rabbi Leary and the others to see him show interest in the work of a man they call a hieratic. Was he following God or following men? He fears it is the later. The commandments have come from God, he knows this. But his obedience to them, is that to please those about him or God. For God would have been pleased had he followed Joshua and the others up to that ward and if he would have held some hands.

“Forgive me Holy One. Help me to know the right way and to follow it no matter what men think.”

“An AIDS ward!” James stands at the door, his arms crossed with a look of disgust on his face.

“It is where I was needed, where my Father sent me.” His brother’s eyes grow narrower.

“You go around those people and then…”

He stands. “James, they are all people created in the image of God. They are suffering and need a human touch, a gentle hand, a prayer. It is why I came, part of my mission.”

“Look, Jude and Rebecca may buy that. Mama is obviously all in. But I just found it absurd. You, my brother, Messiah. Look do as you wish. You will anyway. Just try to remember that we have to live with your choices. I don’t want our sister teased because her brother thinks himself the Son of God.”

“James, I think about my family all the time. I don’t want that either. But, I have to follow my Father’s will. I can’t not.”

James walks out with a huff and a slamming door. Joshua just sighs. He isn’t mad at him. He doesn’t know what he is doing. Looking up to the ceiling, he prays, “Father, help him understand. Please.”

He gets a call, later that day. It is from the governor’s office. It is the man himself. “Joshua, I heard that you have the ability to heal the sick.”

“Yes sir.”

“My daughter, she is awfully ill. The doctors can’t figure out why. Would you come and see her?”

“Yes sir. I would be honored to assist your daughter.”

They send a limo for him. He loathes the ostentatiousness of it but, he and Peter, Mark, and John, pile in to head to the governor’s mansion. They are half way there when the driver gets a call.

“Take the young man back. My darling has died.” He relays the message.

“Tell him not to be afraid but to just believe.” Joshua replies. “and get us there.”

The driver does. They arrive and are meet by the governor and his sobbing wife. The man himself is fighting tears. “Thank you Joshua. We appreciate you coming but…”

“Take me to her.” He looks at him, the question in his eyes. “Please.”

“Take him. It can’t hurt. She is beyond hurt now.” His wife cries out.

He leads him there. The little girl still lays out on the bed, looking like she sleeps. He enters with her parents and his followers. Taken her hand, he says, “Daughter arise. Wake up.”

To the shock of all present, her eyes open. She blinks and then sits up. “Careful.” He helps her stand and John catches her mom as she faints dead away. “She needs something to eat.” Joshua says, with a laugh. “John, is she alright?”

“She is coming to now.” They lead her to a chair where she stares at her daughter. It isn’t until she falls into her mom’s arms, that she lets herself believe that she really lives.

“Oh my darling! My baby! You live!”

“Anything, anything you want, it is yours!” The governor says, his wet eyes on his wife and daughter.

“Just live your life to serve God and others and teach her to do the same.”

“You got it.”

The next day finds him at a different park. Again he is teaching. The hour grows late. The crowd shows no sign of leaving. He gathers his followers. “We need to feed them.”

“Us?” Tomas squeaks, “We don’t have the means to feed them.”

“There is a fish sandwich that the little guy there brought for his supper but, what is that for this crowd?” John says.

“Let me see it.” He hands it over. The little boy comes up to him.

“Whatcha gonna do with my supper?” he asks Joshua.

“I am going to use it to feed everyone. Is that okay?” He kneels down to his level to ask him.

“Yes.” He has a huge smile on his face. Joshua returns it.

He stands, looks up to heaven and blesses it. He tears it in two and sends the men out to pass it around. To their awe, they feed everyone. They even gather up seven baskets of leftovers that Joshua insists that they take to the local pantry . The little boy, eats on his lap. He is happy to help the Teacher feed everyone. They all leave full, with no chance any will have any accidents on the way home due to hunger.

[renee-writer]

Dance

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial anonymous prompt: dance dance revolution.

It changes. It has to. They knew that. Expected it. Their late night dancing would become late night feedings.

 

Dancing has always been part of their lives. It is how they meet after all. He came to her dance class with his niece. Within weeks, they were dancing. At bars and clubs and at the each other’s houses. A year after they meet, they are dancing at their wedding.

 

Now, they await the birth of their first child. Again they dance, this time to the rhythm of her contractions. He sways with her, his hands around the baby bump. Her deep moans and groans are the music they dance to.

 

Their tiny dancer is born at home, in their bedroom. She enters the world into her daddy’s  hands.

 

That night, she wakes to see him swaying with their daughter. She rests against her daddy’s chest, looking up at him with her eyes, their eyes.

 

Tears come to her own eyes. Yes, their lives have changed. But this dance revolution is a blessing.

[itsmoonpeaches]

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial , a sequel to last week's ficlet, Horizon Line. However, you can read this one as a standalone.

Title: Night Line

Part of the Little Moments ficlet collection. Also, read the full fic on ao3.

Word count: 999

Rating: G

Summary: Bumi is the last one to keep watch.

No one told Bumi about the sleepless nights. He wished he had known. Perhaps it would have been easier. Though, he thought, maybe it would not have changed anything.

He had sleepless nights before while serving in the United Republic's military. He had slept on cold stone and shifting sands and stared at starry skies with disdain. The winds had been biting on his numb face, and sometimes the nights sweltering in the summer heat. He had never let that faze him before.

This time it was different.

He and his siblings had taken shifts. Tenzin was an early riser, so he took the mornings. Bumi was most alive with sunset. Kya took everything in between. Some others rotated in and out. Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki sometimes relieved them for a day, or Toph would wander in on her free time. Their mother, of course, was a near-constant presence.

They had not told Bumi of how he would wake when he had not even gotten an hour in, asking, "Do you need anything?" to the shadow on the bed that was his father. No one has said a word about how he would have a constant itch to open his eyes because something could happen at any moment.

Bumi had woken up at every mutter, every groan, every movement he had heard. So that when the morning did come, his eyes were burning, and his entire body sagged with the kind of tiredness that only came with heartache.

He had not known what to do for the longest time. He did what he could.

"Dad, drink some water," he would say with the crack of dawn.

"Dad, Kya's in with your breakfast. Please eat something," he would say about an hour later.

A constant mantra, a gnawing pang in his chest that would never leave.

He had a feeling that morning when the routine broke.

He had placed the rim of the cup to his father's lips and begged him to drink. A sip, nothing else. That was all. Bumi could hardly understand what he was saying anymore.

He had a feeling, but he did not know what to do with it. Bury it somewhere deep into his mind where he could look at it later, smash it like the fragile porcelain life was.

All he knew was that he did not want to see it.

Someone else kept vigil starting that afternoon. His mother and his uncle and aunt stayed. Toph did too. It was another clue for him.

But he hung on, desperate despite himself.

He sat on the dock where Kya normally practiced her waterbending. He watched the boats sail from Yue Bay until the final night line bobbed on the salty ocean away from Avatar Aang Island.

He thought he saw a flash of light shine through the Avatar's temple there.

"Hey Bumi..." he heard a trembling voice come from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Kya. He somehow knew what she was going to say before she said it. "Dad just passed away."

He sighed, and so did she. They agreed to search for Tenzin.

When they found him where the trees met the beach on their island, it was like they were children again. Dad threw handfuls of sand at them, sometimes sandbending the grains into their faces for the heck of it. Dad splashed water and twirled all of them around, carrying them on his shoulders while one of them clung to his torso.

When the scene faded and it was just Bumi and his siblings again, they held each other close and plopped down together onto the shore. No one said a word.

And, at that moment, Bumi did not know what he felt. The pounding in his chest did not lessen. The fatigue permeated every pore of his body. He wanted to sleep. He wanted none.

He wanted to understand why the secondhand soul of the Avatar chose to reincarnate from one person to the next. He had already thought long and hard about who his dad might be next. A burly man from the Water Tribe, a lanky nobody, a girl who was fierce and would not back down from a fight.

But he did not want to see it because, in the end, that new incarnation would not be his dad.

"There you three are," a familiar voice said.

They turned. There was Aunt Suki. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her smile was frail.

"You've been missing for hours," she continued.

Bumi blinked, seeing how high the sun was now. "A few hours" was putting it lightly. They had been missing for the entire night. No one looked for them on purpose.

Aunt Suki held out her hand. "Let's go back inside."

Kya stirred, protesting.

Aunt Suki raised an eyebrow, stopping her. "You guys need some rest," she advised. "Proper rest."

Reluctant himself, Bumi gestured for his other siblings to follow.

They passed through the beginnings of the forest. The colored leaves crunched under their feet. Late fall was settling in. It had been unusually cold and had even snowed a few days prior, but now it was as if a brief cool summer passed them by.

They were nearing the path that led to their home when Aunt Suki gasped.

"Oh, look!" she exclaimed. "Your dad's sugar apple tree has some off-season fruits."

Bumi and his siblings walked around the branch that had blocked their way. Aunt Suki held up a pair of fat, lumpy green fruit.

"We should replant these seeds," she said, "maybe give them to some of our friends. That way, a piece of your dad can grow for everyone."

A sharp memory that Bumi had forgotten bloomed in his mind.

Little hands cracked open sugar apples, sticking curious fingers into the white meat, and picking out shiny black seeds. His dad, scolding him for stuffing his face, then laughing right after because of how sticky he had gotten.

Bumi smiled.

[nyamadermont]

Second-Hand Soul

#FFF178

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Avatar: Legend of Korra

299 words

[Image ID: Repetitive brown and black background with the text “#FFF178 SECOND HAND SOUL” centered, in white./End ID]

“My mother didn’t want me, you know. She wanted his warmth. She wanted his jokes. She wanted his touch. But only on her own terms. As soon as he reminded her that he had wants and needs, she wanted him gone.”

Lin leaned her head back, and just breathed quietly.

Kya brushed her little finger against Lin’s, but said nothing.

“I was always so jealous of you. Even after Tenzin was born, I could tell that your mom liked you, wanted you to be around.” She scoffed. “Toph kept pushing me to do anything except to be like her, to be near her. She was merciless in trying to drum me out of the academy. No mistake was too small. No accomplishment was good enough.”

Lin hugged herself, hunching her shoulders tightly.

Kya saw the pain in her face, but said nothing.

“When you told me you loved me… I have tried for years to find words for what it felt like. What it still feels like. Kya, every time you tell me that you love me - every single time - I almost imagine it’s like being born. Light and sound and feeling that just overwhelms me and makes me want to cry.”

Lin straightened her back, twisting slightly.

Kya looked into her eyes, but said nothing.

“For so much of my life, I thought I had to be Toph to be anyone. Like I didn’t have my own soul. But you showed me I did. I do. If you love me, what I have can’t be her second-hand soul. If you found something to love, there must be something good and fresh and new there.”

Lin reached out to Kya, pleading with her eyes.

Kya reached out to Lin, saying nothing, and yet saying everything Lin needed to hear.