littleotter73 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
littleotter73) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
giles_shorts2017-12-01 05:15 pm
littleotter73) wrote in giles_shorts2017-12-01 05:15 pm
Entry tags:
Monthly Theme: Advent Drabble Challenge
Welcome to December! This month's theme is:
Holiday Drabble Challenge
It works a bit like March Madness (last-line/first-line) in that someone will pick up the previous writer's prompt, but that prompt won't be a last line, it will just be a word or an idea the writer puts down for the next writer to pick up.
I will start Day 1 off and leave a prompt.
---------
Title: Christmas 1978
Author: littleotter73
Character: Giles and his mother
Rating: FRC
Word Count: 100
Prompt: Telephone (thank youil_mio_capitano for getting me started)
Disclaimer: For fun, not profit.
The wind whipped off the Thames, piercing his skin and further chilling his bones. He hugged himself tighter in his black leather jacket, his tattered, moth eaten jumper worn beneath and ripped jeans doing nothing to help insulate his already too thin frame.
Finding a phone box, he stepped inside for respite, stamping his feet and blowing air into his chapped, red hands before picking up the receiver.
"Hello?"
He hesitated at her gentle voice.
"Hello? Rupert... is that you?"
He remained silent.
"Rupert, son, come home"
Squeezing his misting eyes shut, he rang off and whispered, "Happy Christmas, Mum."
Next prompt: Egg Nog
Holiday Drabble Challenge
It works a bit like March Madness (last-line/first-line) in that someone will pick up the previous writer's prompt, but that prompt won't be a last line, it will just be a word or an idea the writer puts down for the next writer to pick up.
I will start Day 1 off and leave a prompt.
---------
Title: Christmas 1978
Author: littleotter73
Character: Giles and his mother
Rating: FRC
Word Count: 100
Prompt: Telephone (thank you
il_mio_capitano for getting me started)Disclaimer: For fun, not profit.
The wind whipped off the Thames, piercing his skin and further chilling his bones. He hugged himself tighter in his black leather jacket, his tattered, moth eaten jumper worn beneath and ripped jeans doing nothing to help insulate his already too thin frame.
Finding a phone box, he stepped inside for respite, stamping his feet and blowing air into his chapped, red hands before picking up the receiver.
"Hello?"
He hesitated at her gentle voice.
"Hello? Rupert... is that you?"
He remained silent.
"Rupert, son, come home"
Squeezing his misting eyes shut, he rang off and whispered, "Happy Christmas, Mum."
Next prompt: Egg Nog
no subject