For @motherkatereloyshipper
Hope and luck and loveâŚa hundred words at a time (7 Drabbles from Hookâs POV)
A couple of notes to get us started:
-The number 7 is considered lucky or magical in numerous cultures.
-Rainbows symbolize hope.
-Oranges are given to wish people good luck.
-A drabble is a 100 word piece of fiction; for the best examples of this type of writing, please refer to any of Kitâs most excellent offerings. I suggest this one: Green Eyed Monster
Kit, here are 700 words to (hopefully) brighten your day and wish you (100 times the normal amount of) happiness on your birthday! (A couple of days early)
The sunset bled over the horizon, painting the ocean a rosy hue in the far off distance. There was a time in his life he chased that illusion of eternity. Now he was content to let it burn away. He didnât need forever, he simply needed her.
As his loveâs soft sound broke the stillness of the moment, a quiet moan he was achingly familiar with now, he reached behind him. Instead of the blanket, his hand encountered something else. With a smile, he spread it over her prone form.
After all, he had always liked the red leather jacket.
The basket of oranges was cheery enough in the early morning gloom, but baffling in its presence on the deck of the Jolly. At first, he worried it was a trick. One didnât spend as much time in the Enchanted Forest as he had without knowing that fruit could be weaponized.
The cheeky note of Good Luck gave nothing away but the timing did. Always the morning of his weekly trivia game. Soon he realized it was Belle, his arch-nemesis.
They toasted alternating wins with orange juice because he wasnât sure how else to thank her for being a friend.
He wasnât much on modern music, but that one song always made him wistful. The melancholy longing of his past would inextricably be tied up with that color. Watching Emma drive away, being forced to let go before he ever really found his grip. The dented and patched hull in no way dimmed by its past accidents or its present course.
If only they were all so lucky.
Now as sunshine and sea spray fought for dominance, his eyes were blinded by yellow and gold. A pair of matching giggles and identical chins made his heart nearly burst with happiness.
Jealousy was an indulgence he couldnât afford. For a man who had lived centuries and came back from the dead, he couldnât shake the feeling that he was living on borrowed time. He tried his best to be a better man than the day before, the days of just settling for putting one foot in front of the other on his path to revenge behind him.
Still, as he watched his wife take her frosted mug and trail the icy glass down her throat to rest in the V of her shirt, he had never resented an inanimate object more.
Everything fades with time. He knew this better than most. However, he wasnât prepared for the day he woke up and faced an old man in the mirror. The years had been kind, too kind some might say, but the magic of Neverland couldnât last forever and time marched on.
As he studied the saltâcompletely lacking in pepperâhe remembered how every gray and white strand came to be, recognized how each wrinkle was a record of the people he'd loved and the miracles he witnessed.
With a smirk and wink at his reflection, he thanked Zeus for the timeless blue.
The sleepless nights were the worst. Curses were broken as easily as hearts in this realm, at least if you were the savior, but that didnât mean the memories crept quietly into the darkness, never to be seen or heard from again.
There were times they screamed, times they cried, times they stared, times they accused and times they confessed. Each round a fresh fight in the battle to keep what they had. It never bothered him. He was a man who fought for what he wanted.
The indigo shadows of their shared pain made them stronger with each daybreak.
He never appreciated the symbolism of flowers until he had a daughter. More aptly, until he had a daughter who was dating.
How he hated the sound of that word on his tongue.
They came with red roses (romance), purple lilacs (love), bleeding hearts (passion). He grudgingly gave bonus points to the ones who brought snowbells and tiger lilies.
It wasnât until one came bearing violets (faithfulness) mixed with bluestar (endurance) that he truly started to worry.
When the lad asked for a word, he wanted to refuse. Instead, he accepted a single iris and tried not to tear up.
@teamhook @kmomof4 @klynn-stormz @stahlop @qualitycoffeethings @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @snowbellewells
