FIC: Twenty-One Years (AB)
Oct. 19th, 2005 07:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mhalachaiTitle: Twenty-One Years
Fandom: Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter (master list here)
Characters: Anita
Prompt: 010 -- Years
Word Count: 531
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. Only the story is my own.
Rating: PG
~~*~~
The church was quiet when I slipped through the door. At two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, there was no one around as I walked down between the pews toward the alter.
When the Catholic Church excommunicated all practising animators a few years ago, I wasn't really bothered. It only gnawed at me one day of the year. This day. I had wondered at first if God would hear me the same way in an Episcopalian church as if I was in a Catholic church, but I got over that. God didn't allow petty earthly difference to bother him.
I stopped in front of the alter and crossed myself. The sunshine shone through the stained glass windows right on the crucifix over the alter, as I continued to the row of candles along the wall. Kneeling, I crossed myself again, then drew a tiny piece of paper out of my pocket.
When I left the house that morning, Micah had asked me where I was going. I hadn't answered him. I wanted to tell him, to explain, but the words stuck in my throat until it was hard to breathe and I had to escape.
I lit one candle with a taper. The flame flared, then burned down to a soft glow. I held my little slip of paper and didn't know what to say. I never knew what to say.
I stared at that flame for a long time before I propped the paper, a tiny photocopy of a photograph, against the candle. My mother's sparkling, beautiful face seemed to stare up at me.
It had been twenty-one years to the day since she died, taken from me in a car crash that ripped her life and my childhood away. I'd been six when I lost her, and for twenty-one years, I'd never been able to tell anyone how much I missed her, how scared I was because she went away, how much I wanted her back with me. Dad didn't want to hear it, my step-mother didn't deserve to know.
Now, even though I was surrounded by people in my life who loved me, I couldn't tell them. I didn't want to appear weak, and still grieving for my mother after all these years... I didn't think any of them would understand.
The air moved slightly as someone opened a door somewhere in the church, startling me. The candle had burned down farther, and I realized that I had just been kneeling here, lost in my thoughts. Bowing my head, I said a quick prayer, something rote and simple, but what I was feeling didn't go with that prayer. What I felt was, please, God, love my mother as much as I do.
Something lightened in my chest as I stood up. As I walked out of the church, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, Micah or Jean-Claude wouldn't think that I was weak if I talked to them about what today meant to me. They may not understand, but they might just be there, if I needed them. For the first time in years, I realized that I had someone, lots of someones, who were there for me.
--fin
Fandom: Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter (master list here)
Characters: Anita
Prompt: 010 -- Years
Word Count: 531
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. Only the story is my own.
Rating: PG
The church was quiet when I slipped through the door. At two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, there was no one around as I walked down between the pews toward the alter.
When the Catholic Church excommunicated all practising animators a few years ago, I wasn't really bothered. It only gnawed at me one day of the year. This day. I had wondered at first if God would hear me the same way in an Episcopalian church as if I was in a Catholic church, but I got over that. God didn't allow petty earthly difference to bother him.
I stopped in front of the alter and crossed myself. The sunshine shone through the stained glass windows right on the crucifix over the alter, as I continued to the row of candles along the wall. Kneeling, I crossed myself again, then drew a tiny piece of paper out of my pocket.
When I left the house that morning, Micah had asked me where I was going. I hadn't answered him. I wanted to tell him, to explain, but the words stuck in my throat until it was hard to breathe and I had to escape.
I lit one candle with a taper. The flame flared, then burned down to a soft glow. I held my little slip of paper and didn't know what to say. I never knew what to say.
I stared at that flame for a long time before I propped the paper, a tiny photocopy of a photograph, against the candle. My mother's sparkling, beautiful face seemed to stare up at me.
It had been twenty-one years to the day since she died, taken from me in a car crash that ripped her life and my childhood away. I'd been six when I lost her, and for twenty-one years, I'd never been able to tell anyone how much I missed her, how scared I was because she went away, how much I wanted her back with me. Dad didn't want to hear it, my step-mother didn't deserve to know.
Now, even though I was surrounded by people in my life who loved me, I couldn't tell them. I didn't want to appear weak, and still grieving for my mother after all these years... I didn't think any of them would understand.
The air moved slightly as someone opened a door somewhere in the church, startling me. The candle had burned down farther, and I realized that I had just been kneeling here, lost in my thoughts. Bowing my head, I said a quick prayer, something rote and simple, but what I was feeling didn't go with that prayer. What I felt was, please, God, love my mother as much as I do.
Something lightened in my chest as I stood up. As I walked out of the church, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, Micah or Jean-Claude wouldn't think that I was weak if I talked to them about what today meant to me. They may not understand, but they might just be there, if I needed them. For the first time in years, I realized that I had someone, lots of someones, who were there for me.
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 09:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:18 pm (UTC)(Actually, I was tearing up while I was writing this in the coffee whop. No doubt I looked rather silly, but oh well.)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 04:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 02:03 pm (UTC)You know what's fascinating? The number of former fans who've suddenly decided that they hate the AB series because it's "nothing but smut now". They had no problems with extreme non-plot-advancing violence, but let Anita get into daily threesomes that are essential to the plot and they turn into Jerry Falwell. Hilarious!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 02:37 pm (UTC)Sometimes I hate how society is.