3ww: The Cave
Feb. 1st, 2011 01:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: The Cave
Word count: 808
Rating: PG
Prompt: 3ww 1/19/11: descent, kill, surreal
Notes: I was going to have her find a weird skeleton, but then I forgot and I'd already wrapped up the story so I didn't want to rewrite it, so maybe that'll be a separate story. I don't have a name for this world yet. I might just call it "prison planet."
They were starting to get used to the cave. Or at least Carla was. It was a strange and surreal thing to have at the back of what appeared to be a museum, but they were lucky it was there—it was their only source of fresh water, and the fish and gulls, while not easy to catch, were their best source of food.
She’d volunteered to go down and dip some water after seeing Tanya’s trepidatious expression. They needed it, and apparently she could deal with it more comfortably than the others. She took the largest of the glass vases, found in what had seemed to be an exhibit of some ancient culture’s useful items, and carried it in her arms through the long, echoing marble hall. It was dark inside, and she could see the torches they kept burning at the far end of the hallway from where she was.
When she reached the door to the cave, lower than the other doors in the museum but still much higher than her head, she stepped through and waited for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dark. When they had, she began to make a careful descent down the hill that led to the water. It sloped shallowly down, but it was covered in thick grass that could be quite slippery if you tried to walk too quickly.
At the bottom, she knelt to reach the water, then froze. A fight between the cave’s native fish and gulls was beginning only a few feet from her. She could see the spiky fish through the clear water, very close to the surface, where it mouthed at some kind of crustacean glued like a barnacle to the rock. The gull swept silently down, apparently certain of its kill. At the last moment, however, the fish let go of the crustacean and snapped at the gull. The overconfident bird got its foot caught in the fish’s mouth, and while it squawked and flapped upwards instantly, it was clear enough to Carla that the gull would never use that foot again.
Now came the strangest part. Instead of flying away in search of easier prey, the gull dove for the fish again. Carla had seen these fights before, but she’d never had the opportunity to watch one from the beginning, and she stared in fascination. The gull dove, the fish leapt, both of them snapping and slashing at each other. The gull dripped blood, but the fish was not uninjured, either. Finally the gull fell heavily on its side on the swell of earth just above where they had been fighting. Its chest heaved once and then went still.
The fish had apparently won this fight. But it wasn’t satisfied with that. It leapt out of the water with unerring aim, and its tiny, sharp teeth sank into the gull’s wing. But then it just sat there, wiggling. Carla held her breath, hardly daring to believe her luck. In one of the other fights she’d seen, the gull had landed on the shore and the fish had leapt out to bite it, but both had slid back into the water and the fish had made a meal of its opponent. On this hummock, though, the slippery grass was sparse.
Carla dipped her vase and took it, filled with clear water, back to the doorway. Then she crept back in. The fish and gull still hadn’t moved. She couldn’t tell whether the fish was still alive, but if it was, she knew it wouldn’t be for long. Her hill wasn’t attached to theirs, but she could make a few jumps, hill to hill—attached to the stone walls of the cave, she couldn’t see them as islands—and land, part luck, part athleticism, on the hill with the dying animals.
Of course, she hadn’t been planning to hunt, so she had nothing to carry them with. The gull she could carry in her hands, but the fish was so covered in spikes that there was nowhere she could get a good hold on it. After a moment of pondering, she carefully tore a strip off the hem of her shirt. At least it had been a long shirt. She tied one end of the strip gingerly around the base of the fish’s tail and the other end around the gull’s legs.
Her burden made her balance even more precarious on the way back, but she finally landed on her knees on the hill that led to the museum. She stopped there for a few minutes, breathing heavily, before forcing herself to her feet. The others were probably wondering where she was. No need for them to come looking for her. She would stride out to them, triumphant with her water and game. The cave was becoming her favorite place.
Word count: 808
Rating: PG
Prompt: 3ww 1/19/11: descent, kill, surreal
Notes: I was going to have her find a weird skeleton, but then I forgot and I'd already wrapped up the story so I didn't want to rewrite it, so maybe that'll be a separate story. I don't have a name for this world yet. I might just call it "prison planet."
They were starting to get used to the cave. Or at least Carla was. It was a strange and surreal thing to have at the back of what appeared to be a museum, but they were lucky it was there—it was their only source of fresh water, and the fish and gulls, while not easy to catch, were their best source of food.
She’d volunteered to go down and dip some water after seeing Tanya’s trepidatious expression. They needed it, and apparently she could deal with it more comfortably than the others. She took the largest of the glass vases, found in what had seemed to be an exhibit of some ancient culture’s useful items, and carried it in her arms through the long, echoing marble hall. It was dark inside, and she could see the torches they kept burning at the far end of the hallway from where she was.
When she reached the door to the cave, lower than the other doors in the museum but still much higher than her head, she stepped through and waited for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dark. When they had, she began to make a careful descent down the hill that led to the water. It sloped shallowly down, but it was covered in thick grass that could be quite slippery if you tried to walk too quickly.
At the bottom, she knelt to reach the water, then froze. A fight between the cave’s native fish and gulls was beginning only a few feet from her. She could see the spiky fish through the clear water, very close to the surface, where it mouthed at some kind of crustacean glued like a barnacle to the rock. The gull swept silently down, apparently certain of its kill. At the last moment, however, the fish let go of the crustacean and snapped at the gull. The overconfident bird got its foot caught in the fish’s mouth, and while it squawked and flapped upwards instantly, it was clear enough to Carla that the gull would never use that foot again.
Now came the strangest part. Instead of flying away in search of easier prey, the gull dove for the fish again. Carla had seen these fights before, but she’d never had the opportunity to watch one from the beginning, and she stared in fascination. The gull dove, the fish leapt, both of them snapping and slashing at each other. The gull dripped blood, but the fish was not uninjured, either. Finally the gull fell heavily on its side on the swell of earth just above where they had been fighting. Its chest heaved once and then went still.
The fish had apparently won this fight. But it wasn’t satisfied with that. It leapt out of the water with unerring aim, and its tiny, sharp teeth sank into the gull’s wing. But then it just sat there, wiggling. Carla held her breath, hardly daring to believe her luck. In one of the other fights she’d seen, the gull had landed on the shore and the fish had leapt out to bite it, but both had slid back into the water and the fish had made a meal of its opponent. On this hummock, though, the slippery grass was sparse.
Carla dipped her vase and took it, filled with clear water, back to the doorway. Then she crept back in. The fish and gull still hadn’t moved. She couldn’t tell whether the fish was still alive, but if it was, she knew it wouldn’t be for long. Her hill wasn’t attached to theirs, but she could make a few jumps, hill to hill—attached to the stone walls of the cave, she couldn’t see them as islands—and land, part luck, part athleticism, on the hill with the dying animals.
Of course, she hadn’t been planning to hunt, so she had nothing to carry them with. The gull she could carry in her hands, but the fish was so covered in spikes that there was nowhere she could get a good hold on it. After a moment of pondering, she carefully tore a strip off the hem of her shirt. At least it had been a long shirt. She tied one end of the strip gingerly around the base of the fish’s tail and the other end around the gull’s legs.
Her burden made her balance even more precarious on the way back, but she finally landed on her knees on the hill that led to the museum. She stopped there for a few minutes, breathing heavily, before forcing herself to her feet. The others were probably wondering where she was. No need for them to come looking for her. She would stride out to them, triumphant with her water and game. The cave was becoming her favorite place.
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Date: 2011-04-11 04:34 pm (UTC)Neat!
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Date: 2011-04-11 05:52 pm (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2011-04-11 06:02 pm (UTC)Maybe you got eaten by some of my other follow-ees massive postings.