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p_r_i_s_c_a2022-12-05 10:56 am
prisca) wrote in p_r_i_s_c_a2022-12-05 10:56 am
Entry tags:
Jeremiah (TV) written for FFFC
Title: Sitting by the fire
Character: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith
Word Count: 248
Prompt: Sitting by the fire
Finished: 05.12.2022
:::
„Kurdy!“ Smith dropped down on the old trunk beside the fire, which radiated only a little warmth. „Why don't you come inside? It's much too cold tonight.“
The big guy looked up, just a shadow of his former self. The face bloated, the eyes dark-rimmed and bloodshot. Every will to live gone. „Why do you care,“ he asked with his voice tired.
„Because Elizabeth is dead, but you are not. You are supposed to live.“
Surprisingly quick, Kurdy's hand dashed forward, grabbing Smith by the collar of his old jacket. „Shut the fuck up, you damned freak. This is all your fault. If you hadn't told me to go to Milford, I would have been with her and...“ He gasped for air before adding almost inaudibly: “I could have protected her.“
Smith stared into the flames of the fire. Maybe. Maybe not. But it hadn't been his decision. He had only done what God had told him to do—keeping Kurdy alive. The cold started to creep into his body, and he put his hand on Kurdy's shoulder. „The last she would have wanted is you, giving up now,“ he said. „Let's go inside. Have a shower, a hot soup in the cafeteria, and then rest. Mourn about her tonight, but tomorrow is a new day. God says: The world needs you.“
„Freak,“ Kurdy repeated. „Damned freak.“ Finally founding the strength to get up, he turned around and vanished in the night. Smith followed him silently.
Character: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith
Word Count: 248
Prompt: Sitting by the fire
Finished: 05.12.2022
:::
„Kurdy!“ Smith dropped down on the old trunk beside the fire, which radiated only a little warmth. „Why don't you come inside? It's much too cold tonight.“
The big guy looked up, just a shadow of his former self. The face bloated, the eyes dark-rimmed and bloodshot. Every will to live gone. „Why do you care,“ he asked with his voice tired.
„Because Elizabeth is dead, but you are not. You are supposed to live.“
Surprisingly quick, Kurdy's hand dashed forward, grabbing Smith by the collar of his old jacket. „Shut the fuck up, you damned freak. This is all your fault. If you hadn't told me to go to Milford, I would have been with her and...“ He gasped for air before adding almost inaudibly: “I could have protected her.“
Smith stared into the flames of the fire. Maybe. Maybe not. But it hadn't been his decision. He had only done what God had told him to do—keeping Kurdy alive. The cold started to creep into his body, and he put his hand on Kurdy's shoulder. „The last she would have wanted is you, giving up now,“ he said. „Let's go inside. Have a shower, a hot soup in the cafeteria, and then rest. Mourn about her tonight, but tomorrow is a new day. God says: The world needs you.“
„Freak,“ Kurdy repeated. „Damned freak.“ Finally founding the strength to get up, he turned around and vanished in the night. Smith followed him silently.