This Is Not My Life

No. Really. It's not.

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Drabble Meme
CoS BBE Icon by poetrusic
I need a kick in the pants start.

MEME: The first fifteen people to comment on this post with a prompt get to request a drabble from you. In return, they have to post this meme in their journal (though, no pressure). Post all fandoms you’re willing to write for.

Um, the "fandoms [I'm] willing to write for" are pretty limited. I've only ever written extensively for HP, and mostly only about the bad guys. However, technically, I've also written for Bizenghast, Pirates of the Caribbean and Lord of the Rings, so if you're feeling daring, you can request one of those.

Also, I loosely define drabble here, so it will be at least 100 words, but probably not that exactly.

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Oooh, I'm so glad to get a Bizenghast prompt! I hope you enjoy.

- - - - - - - -

THUNK! Vincent dropped the handsaw and grabbed the suddenly tottering table. “Stop it, Edaniel,” he said. “I won’t be able to cut this hole if you keep running into the table.”

“Take off the fishbowl, Edaniel. It’s unbalancing you,” advised Dinah.

“I can’t,” said Edaniel. “I’m Commander Keen. The atmosphere on your planet may kill me.”

Dinah sighed and lifted the fishbowl off Edaniel’s head. “You’ll be wearing it all afternoon,” she said, putting it aside. “Vincent, how big of a hole should I cut in the tablecloth?”

“I’m making the hole in the table about six inches. You can fit through that, right, Edaniel?”

“I can fit through holes of any size, Valentine,” said Edaniel proudly.

Dinah smiled, and quickly snipped a hole in the center of the tablecloth. The darkened tent was almost ready for the start of the school fair. The carefully painted sign outside read “Madam Dianora’s Fortune Telling,” and a diaphanous wall of fabric shielded those inside from curious on-lookers. On the inside of the tent, Dinah had hung a fancy astrology chart and few blowups of tarot cards. All that was left was the pièce de résistance: the draped table with the “crystal ball” centerpiece.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Dinah?” asked Vincent, finishing with the table and dusting off a few wood chips. “The kids at school already think you’re strange. They’re full of crap, of course, but this probably isn’t going to help that opinion.”

Dinah was silent a moment as she lay the tablecloth over the table and made sure the holes lined up. “This is what I want,” she said finally. “They’re not really full of crap, Vincent. I am strange. But if they think this is the kind of strange I am, it will go easier when I start school again.”

Dinah set the fishbowl over the hole. “Okay, Edaniel. Let’s see how it looks.”

Edaniel skittered under the table and a few seconds later, his head popped up in the fishbowl. “Hang on,” he said. “Turn down some of those lights, and let me get the flashlight on.”

Vincent turned off the work lights they’d been using, and Edaniel turned the flashlight on under his face. It really didn’t do much to highlight his mostly flat features, but a bright green cat in a fishbowl was eerie enough. “I’ve come from the world beyond to tell you your FUTURE!” he said.

Dinah and Vincent laughed. “All right, Madam Dianora,” said Vincent. “Put on your veil and we should be ready to open shop.”

Covering her head and eyes, Dinah made herself comfortable on a plush cushion on the far side of the table. Vincent squatted down on the other side. “I want to be your first customer,” he said. “Read my palm?”

Dinah took Vincent’s hand in her own, opening his fingers and studying the palm intently. “You have a strong heart line, Vincent,” she started, tracing it with her finger.

“Use your spooky voice,” said Edaniel from the center of the table. “Your spoooOOOoooky voice.”

“It cuts straight across your palm,” Dinah continued, ignoring him. “It means you care deeply about others. It even dips through your head line, here. That means that sometimes you make emotional decisions when you should make rational ones. You put yourself in danger when you don’t have to.”

Vincent leaned a little closer, presumably to see where Dinah was pointing, but she caught him peeking under her hooded veil. She blushed, and glanced back down at his hand. “That’s odd,” she said.

“What’s odd?” asked Vincent, who was obviously no longer looking at his own hand.

“There’s a gap in your life line. It just stops and then starts again a few millimeters away.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have no idea.” Dinah dropped his hand, puzzled and suddenly nonplussed. “Maybe we should let some customers in now, Vincent.”

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