Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Fanfic Challenge Cold and Blood

So, the other night I'm whining on IRC that I need an idea for a vignette to blow off some steam while I'm working on Queenie's Lois and Superman request. Queenie starts throwing out possible opening lines, including these:

"It's cold. I taste blood."

Now, these lines leave themselves open to many possibilites. I've written one; it's over in the fanfic folder. But I'd love to see others.

Who wants to take a shot?

Hi HG - thanks for the challenge (please ignore the PM - I didn't see this challenge before I sent it).

It's only a drabble, but that's about my speed these days. 100 words exactly.

*****

It’s cold. I taste blood. Searing pain racks my body as I realize my car is ablaze. I need to escape, but my mind is stuck trying to reconcile the scorching heat with the frigid numbness in my limbs. I try moving, but not even the thick stench of burning plastic and metal overcomes the deadly lassitude I feel.

The door disappears, metal screeching in protest, and Clark pulls me from the wreckage. He cradles me tenderly and calls my name. I open my eyes to see my beloved once more and finally understand.

“So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”

*****

Perfect! I love it!

This is exactly what I meant: those lines could fit so many situations.

And you captured Mayson's last moments beautifully, BJ. I hope you'll send your drabble to the archive when we're done with this project.

Hmm...so far we're on a roll with dying women. I wonder whether anyone can actually survive being cold with a bloody mouth?

Any more takers?

Okay, I just couldn't resist whipping this up. I hope it's okay:

**********

It's Cold. I taste blood. I duck as another fist swings at me, this time barely grazing my hair. "Jerry," I choke, trying to get the words past the red pool dripping from my mouth, "Jerry, it doesn't have to be this way!"

My brother doesn't listen---hasn't been listening for the past hour.

The snow has covered up spilled blood.

Fresh blood has fallen on the snow.

It's not his fault; I try to remember that, but it's difficult when he's trying to crush my windpipe. I search his eyes, trying to find any sign of the boy who taught me dirty jokes; the man who gave me advice on love. I see nothing. His eyes stare back at me, empty. Dead.

"Jerry!" I mouth his name, unable to use my voice at this point. The "please" doesn't even make it to my lips. My vision is getting blurry.

All at once, his grip loosens. The air rushes into my lungs, and I gasp just as he collapses at my feet. In a split second, it registers that I feel like I'm burning.

Dad is standing there now, something sharp and green in his hand. He looks ill---worse than ill. I look down. Jerry---Jerry isn't moving. There's blood running from the wound in his back. I gape at my father, sickened, dizzy, and numb.

"Is---is he---?" I can't even finish the question.

"Dead." Dad closes his eyes. A mist forms around his mouth as he exhales. "He's been dead for quite some time. That---that *creature* was not your brother, and he certainly wasn't my son."

The green thing falls from his hand and lands beside an unmoving, outstretched arm. I can't look at it. I turn away.

The tears are hot against my skin. In the arctic chill, it feels like my eyes are boiling.

It's cold.

I taste blood.

Wow, Mary. That was chilling and perfectly enticing. So much backstory can be implied by this short piece and so many wonderful questions are left unanswered.

Ooh! Queenie! I'm so glad you posted.

You do seem to have a pentiant for killing off poor Clark's boys lately. I'm assuming that's who it was.

The story itself was heart-wrenching, and you know it raised all kinds of back-story questions. But that's the beauty of a short story--we have to imagine what led to this horrible moment. Well done!

And we're still leaving bodies in our wake, although this time not the narrator. Any more takers?

It's cold. I taste blood.

Luthor’s gone, but I know he’ll be back. He promised he’d be back and I’ve no doubt he’ll keep his promise to kill me.

The green glow from the bars hurts my eyes. But everything hurts so I’ll just lie here for a moment before I try to grab the keys again. He left them to taunt me – so close and yet so far.

I hear the Wedding March starting.

It's cold. I taste blood.

Yay, Dandello! Another drabble! Thanks for playing!

I was wondering whether anyone was going to use one of our main characters. We've got Clark now. Who wants to take on Lois?

Or another mystery guest could be fun, too.

Who's up next?

It's cold. I taste blood-- my blood?

No, it's not mine, or is it? My dearest love is part of me and I try to kiss the hurt away. But there's no response, except my fear, my tears, the blood on me, on my mouth, yet I'm frozen-- numb.

The EMTs arrive before I can react, and they take my dearest from me.

And it's all my fault! I should have protected her!

So cold with fear. The taste of her blood remains, mingling with my guilt and pain.

-----------

I've never posted anything here, so I hope this is okay. I usually don't have a chance to join in, but I'm home supposed to be resting, and am enjoying all your posts so much, so hope it's okay to add a quickly thrown together one.

You all have so much talent, it's so amazing to read your stories. Thank you!
Evelyn

Yay Evelyn! I'm so glad you took the plunge. That was a terrific drabble. I hope you'll post for us again sometime.

It was wonderfully ambiguous. Is this Clark and Lois? It could be any couple. That feeling of helplessness and failure at a loved one's pain is universal.

Thanks for playing!

I'm so glad you liked it!

I was definitely thinking of Lois and Clark.

Thanks so much for your kind words,
Evelyn

Mine ended up as a triple plus drabble, so I posted it in the Fanfic folder here . It's not a different character from what's been posted thus far, but hopefully it's a unique take on the challenge.

Don't ask me why, it just demanded to be written. Another 100 word drabble.

*****

It’s cold. I taste blood.

My hand draws across my mouth and comes away crimson. It’s been months since his last attack, but I still haven’t figured out why he hates me. As a gofer and wannabe photojournalist, I’ve never hurt anybody! Except when I tried to kill Lois, but even *she* doesn’t hold it against me.

Seeing him emerge from a stand of fir trees, I duck to avoid his next volley, but the icy snowball smashes into my tender nose and I yelp painfully. Tank Wilson’s maniacal laugh taunts me as I run.

It’s cold. I taste blood.

*****

LOL BJ! Here I am thinking, 'Yeah, who wants to hurt poor harmless Jimmy?' Now we know.

ROTFL!! Especially since when I started reading, I thought "She should make it about Tank", and then it was!! Love it.

I don't always check on threads like this but I'm glad I decided to pop in and found this little gem.

I like that way it played out. Jimmy not only is the most uninteresting, and useless, supporting character, but he's also a coward. Perfect characterization of the loser.

Tank (who would have used snowballs that had been iced on Jimmy... Bwaa haa haa)

/me snickers.

I have no idea where the idea came from, but once there, it begged me to post it.

To HG and KB: I'm glad you liked it and that it made you smile (even if it was a bit predictable).

To Tank: I'm glad you stopped in and that you liked this little tribute. I've updated the drabble to be more in character.

I'm not often in this thread either these days since I'm not writing, but I was curious as to why Tank was here and came in hoping he'd written something.

Glad I did as that was hilarious, BJ! Poor Jimmy indeed. Shame on you, Wilson!

LabRat

Just a quick note to say that I've sent my Cold and Blood story in to the archive. I hope the rest of you will, too, even if it was just a drabble. I'd love to see a whole collection of them.

Happy

Just a quick bump to say that a new Cold and Blood response is up on the archive. It's called Steak Tartare by David.