Dust
Title: Dust
Author: becsh
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer. Original writing based on a 'verse not my own.
Rating: No swearing or sex.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Response to ff_Fridays Challenge #89.
Mal loved the land. Back on Shadow, the farm was all he an' his Ma needed. He grew up with it, learnt to measure the flow of his life in the flow of the earth. When the hills were golden with rippling wheat it was time to harvest; green with new tips it was time to bring the cows in; slick with black mud an' it was time to grab one of the neighbour's kids and wrestle, just for the joy of rolling in the thick, sweet earth… and the look on his Ma's face when he got home.
He grew up on the land and knew every inch of it. Walked it most days, rode it on t'others. In winter, when the ground froze, he knew its sound – crunching underfoot; spring rains and he felt it, wallowed in it; and summer drought he tasted the dust on his tongue.
Times past, back on Earth-that-was they used to wage wars over earth. Time was, men would fight and die over a couple of ditches dug deep into the ground. Fought for territory, the very word itself meant land. You'd a thought, what with more'n seventy earths now spinning 'roun the galaxy people woulda got tired of fighting over such limited territory, when space was all around, ready to be conquered.
Which I'm sure means a lot to the ???? now littering Serenity Valley. Weeks Mal spent on that land. Godforsaken little hunk of rock, no good to anyone for crop or cattle. Worthless. Maybe it was some kinda fools joke makin' this nothing the end of everything, what everyone wanted. Territory to win or lose a war.
Mal got to know this land too. The feel of broken rock, flung shrapnel after a mortar round; the dull thudding sound a body makes when it hits the ground. And still the taste of dust, suffocating, coating his throat. Like the very earth was trying to do the Browncoats in. Mal loved the land, but he couldn't survive in it anymore. That's when he started to look upwards, to the limitless sky, empty, tasteless, soundless. No one could take it from him. Weren't nothin' there to take.
Chinese
Author: becsh
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer. Original writing based on a 'verse not my own.
Rating: No swearing or sex.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Response to ff_Fridays Challenge #89.
Mal loved the land. Back on Shadow, the farm was all he an' his Ma needed. He grew up with it, learnt to measure the flow of his life in the flow of the earth. When the hills were golden with rippling wheat it was time to harvest; green with new tips it was time to bring the cows in; slick with black mud an' it was time to grab one of the neighbour's kids and wrestle, just for the joy of rolling in the thick, sweet earth… and the look on his Ma's face when he got home.
He grew up on the land and knew every inch of it. Walked it most days, rode it on t'others. In winter, when the ground froze, he knew its sound – crunching underfoot; spring rains and he felt it, wallowed in it; and summer drought he tasted the dust on his tongue.
Times past, back on Earth-that-was they used to wage wars over earth. Time was, men would fight and die over a couple of ditches dug deep into the ground. Fought for territory, the very word itself meant land. You'd a thought, what with more'n seventy earths now spinning 'roun the galaxy people woulda got tired of fighting over such limited territory, when space was all around, ready to be conquered.
Which I'm sure means a lot to the ???? now littering Serenity Valley. Weeks Mal spent on that land. Godforsaken little hunk of rock, no good to anyone for crop or cattle. Worthless. Maybe it was some kinda fools joke makin' this nothing the end of everything, what everyone wanted. Territory to win or lose a war.
Mal got to know this land too. The feel of broken rock, flung shrapnel after a mortar round; the dull thudding sound a body makes when it hits the ground. And still the taste of dust, suffocating, coating his throat. Like the very earth was trying to do the Browncoats in. Mal loved the land, but he couldn't survive in it anymore. That's when he started to look upwards, to the limitless sky, empty, tasteless, soundless. No one could take it from him. Weren't nothin' there to take.
Chinese
| ???? | k? lián sh? t? | piteous corpse(s) |
posted by becsh at 12:20 pm
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