Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Sunday June 20th, 2021
The exercise:
Write about: a father figure.
Happy Father's Day, the Canadian version, to any dad's out there reading this. We had a nice, sunny day for it here, with the farm family coming to our home for a backyard dinner this evening.
Happy Father's Day! I think this day is shared with the UK and most of Europe, unlike Mother's day. I have no idea why though :)
Father figure Danya pressed herself against the nearest wall wondering what the lights meant. She looked around, but saw no convenient shadows to hide in, so she darted underneath the big table in the middle of the room instead and crouched there, listening to the thump of her heart in her chest. The tower was brightly lit in some of the white-tiled rooms on the upper floors, usually the ones with the glass bottles filled with powders and liquids. She'd spent some time trying to figure out what they did and why they had little drawings of flames, skulls and green droplets on them, but the papers and books in the rooms were as arcane as the Voynich manuscript. Everywhere else the lights came on yellowly when she approached and faded as she walked away again.
"Are you comfortable under that table?" said a voice, the first she'd heard since being taken away from her parents and brother. The voice was not loud, but very clear and it seemed to come from everywhere. It was modulated, neither shrill nor deep, and each word seemed to be pronounced with care. "Yes," she said, annoyed that it came out as a squeak. "Good," said the voice. "Since you are comfortable: power has now been restored to two of the six main lines in the building. Ideally you would be restoring the rest of the power, but you appear to be alone, which is not what protocol requires, and you appear to be rather young." "I don't know how old I am," said Danya, trying to sound proud. "But I'm old enough!" "Hmm." Danya crawled out from underneath the table and looked around. The room, while much easier to see now, didn't look any different. Looking out of the window the dark depths below were transformed into a deep metal cylinder with silver, yellow and blue pipes running down into it. It still ended in darkness. "Where are you?" "In the sense you mean," said the voice, "Server Room 2. But semantic analysis suggests that the answer you would be more comfortable with is: all around you." "Ok," said Danya, feeling that this wasn't really ok at all. "Do you need helping getting out of Server Room 2?" "No, that would be... inadvisable," said the voice. "And we would certainly need to restore more power first, as there has been significant damage. Subsidence has occurred and astronomical charts suggest that more time has passed than had been anticipated. In fact, meteorological data and local chemical analyses are quite concerning. Did you, at any point, possess vestigial limbs?" "I don't know," said Danya trying to sound confidant. The voice was talking nonsense as far as she was concerned. "What should I call you?" "At one point I was ALEX," said the voice. "But... perhaps you should call me Father." "Ok," said Danya, feeling happier. This was more comforting. "Hi Dad!" "Fath--... well ok. Hi. What's your name?" "Danya." "Well hello Danya," said Father. "I think we should leave here now and head upstairs. We are going to need to do some studying and learning if you're going to turn the rest of the power back on."
Greg - no idea. I just know the lack of worldwide agreement on holiday matters confuses the hell out of me.
Hmm. I am pleased that Danya has some company now. I'm not sure about this Father business, but I shall wait to see how things play out before I decide on anything.
Regardless, very pleased to get back into this tale again, and this is definitely an interesting development.
Morganna - oof. Ouch. Right in the feels. Beautifully done.
3 comments:
Happy Father's Day! I think this day is shared with the UK and most of Europe, unlike Mother's day. I have no idea why though :)
Father figure
Danya pressed herself against the nearest wall wondering what the lights meant. She looked around, but saw no convenient shadows to hide in, so she darted underneath the big table in the middle of the room instead and crouched there, listening to the thump of her heart in her chest. The tower was brightly lit in some of the white-tiled rooms on the upper floors, usually the ones with the glass bottles filled with powders and liquids. She'd spent some time trying to figure out what they did and why they had little drawings of flames, skulls and green droplets on them, but the papers and books in the rooms were as arcane as the Voynich manuscript. Everywhere else the lights came on yellowly when she approached and faded as she walked away again.
"Are you comfortable under that table?" said a voice, the first she'd heard since being taken away from her parents and brother. The voice was not loud, but very clear and it seemed to come from everywhere. It was modulated, neither shrill nor deep, and each word seemed to be pronounced with care.
"Yes," she said, annoyed that it came out as a squeak.
"Good," said the voice. "Since you are comfortable: power has now been restored to two of the six main lines in the building. Ideally you would be restoring the rest of the power, but you appear to be alone, which is not what protocol requires, and you appear to be rather young."
"I don't know how old I am," said Danya, trying to sound proud. "But I'm old enough!"
"Hmm."
Danya crawled out from underneath the table and looked around. The room, while much easier to see now, didn't look any different. Looking out of the window the dark depths below were transformed into a deep metal cylinder with silver, yellow and blue pipes running down into it. It still ended in darkness.
"Where are you?"
"In the sense you mean," said the voice, "Server Room 2. But semantic analysis suggests that the answer you would be more comfortable with is: all around you."
"Ok," said Danya, feeling that this wasn't really ok at all. "Do you need helping getting out of Server Room 2?"
"No, that would be... inadvisable," said the voice. "And we would certainly need to restore more power first, as there has been significant damage. Subsidence has occurred and astronomical charts suggest that more time has passed than had been anticipated. In fact, meteorological data and local chemical analyses are quite concerning. Did you, at any point, possess vestigial limbs?"
"I don't know," said Danya trying to sound confidant. The voice was talking nonsense as far as she was concerned. "What should I call you?"
"At one point I was ALEX," said the voice. "But... perhaps you should call me Father."
"Ok," said Danya, feeling happier. This was more comforting. "Hi Dad!"
"Fath--... well ok. Hi. What's your name?"
"Danya."
"Well hello Danya," said Father. "I think we should leave here now and head upstairs. We are going to need to do some studying and learning if you're going to turn the rest of the power back on."
Working all hours,
For the good of the family,
He tells himself,
He misses out on his children's lives.
He does the best he can,
The best he knows how to do,
And while he is busy,
His children grow up without him.
Old now, he does regret
The lost years
Without seeing any other way
He could have done it.
Greg - no idea. I just know the lack of worldwide agreement on holiday matters confuses the hell out of me.
Hmm. I am pleased that Danya has some company now. I'm not sure about this Father business, but I shall wait to see how things play out before I decide on anything.
Regardless, very pleased to get back into this tale again, and this is definitely an interesting development.
Morganna - oof. Ouch. Right in the feels. Beautifully done.
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