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Dec. 19th, 2011 06:55 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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onepiece_300It's been ages since I've been here, but let's see if we can't get a couple of entries out of this one!
Title: Spark
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 300
Characters: Sanji
Prompt: Spark
Spoilers: Up to Sanji's backstory.
Summary: He is so hungry.
He is so hungry. He never knew it was possible to be this hungry. Sanji feels as if there is a parasite that lines his veins, sapping him of vitality and strength and sucking his muscles out of him. It is a gnawing, constant sensation that grows and grows, as massive as the emptiness he feels inside. He watches in horror as he dwindles away, and when he closes his eyes he can imagine his skin stretched tight against him splitting with the pressure until he is just bones, bleached white by the sun.
He will make it - that is what he has promised himself, that is what he has to believe. But the negativity comes in droves as he hunches over, toothpick knees jabbing into his chest (that he can practically feel collapsing into himself, like a balloon slowly ridding itself of air) and weeps. And when he does weep, all he can think is, stop crying, that is water, precious water which makes him weep all the harder, for this is his life.
When it rains, he dances for joy. It makes him feel alive. But it is cold, and the joy grows stale with no food to warm him. Besides the pain, that is one of the worst things, the complete lack of warmth running through him, shaking hands even in the sunlight.
On the second day of rain, he tries to start a fire to warm him, convinces himself that if he can only sit by a fire everything will be okay for a day. He smashes the rocks together again and again. If he sees a spark, he tells himself, there will be light and warmth and hope.
The spark never comes.
Title: Spark
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 300
Characters: Sanji
Prompt: Spark
Spoilers: Up to Sanji's backstory.
Summary: He is so hungry.
He is so hungry. He never knew it was possible to be this hungry. Sanji feels as if there is a parasite that lines his veins, sapping him of vitality and strength and sucking his muscles out of him. It is a gnawing, constant sensation that grows and grows, as massive as the emptiness he feels inside. He watches in horror as he dwindles away, and when he closes his eyes he can imagine his skin stretched tight against him splitting with the pressure until he is just bones, bleached white by the sun.
He will make it - that is what he has promised himself, that is what he has to believe. But the negativity comes in droves as he hunches over, toothpick knees jabbing into his chest (that he can practically feel collapsing into himself, like a balloon slowly ridding itself of air) and weeps. And when he does weep, all he can think is, stop crying, that is water, precious water which makes him weep all the harder, for this is his life.
When it rains, he dances for joy. It makes him feel alive. But it is cold, and the joy grows stale with no food to warm him. Besides the pain, that is one of the worst things, the complete lack of warmth running through him, shaking hands even in the sunlight.
On the second day of rain, he tries to start a fire to warm him, convinces himself that if he can only sit by a fire everything will be okay for a day. He smashes the rocks together again and again. If he sees a spark, he tells himself, there will be light and warmth and hope.
The spark never comes.
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Date: 2011-12-20 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-22 07:20 pm (UTC)passing the buck!
Date: 2011-12-28 09:54 pm (UTC)