[en!fic] FMA – Scieszka – PG | Blank
May. 21st, 2022 01:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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glyficTitle: Blank
Author:malurette
Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist, '03 anim
Character: Scieszka
Rating: PG / K+
Disclaimer: Arakawa's
Prompt: "writing" forgenprompt_bingo
Note: translation of an older one shot
Word count:
***
Wedged at her desk; in front of her is a blank sheet. A sheet of empty, white paper she's got to fill. Within her are the words--the memory of words, jostling around, wanting to get out. She's got to corral them before she can jot them down one after the other all in the right order, on her sheet. If she's too fast, she'll lose her train of thought and jumble her sentence. There's this wide, blank sheet to fill and words are waltzing with her pen.
There's so, so, so much to do. The blank sheet is an ocean drinking up her words as soon as she traces them. It never ends. So many words to write down, so many pages to rewrite! The blank sheet widens and breeds more and more sheets.
Her whole world becomes a great blank sheet that she's got to fill. Her mind is a haven for wild words wanting to get written. Images of pages in her memory meddle and mix, words lose their meaning.
Still, she keeps on writing--she has to. The blank page keeps asking for more. And once it's done, another takes its place. And another one. And another one. Just as blank and wide and demanding. She's adrift on an ocean of white, blank sheets, the page she's writing on a raft waddling through wandering words.
What she traces on paper she doesn't even understand anymore--but she's got to get it out, get it down anyway, everything she remembers even if it makes no sense at the moment. She's got to fill the void.
The task swallows her whole. She can do nothing else.
If she doesn't fill this blank page with words the sheet will keep widening. Backlogged case files are piling up. Blank pages waiting to be written on surround her, pressure her, rise in waves all around and threaten to overtake her.
Pages without words, words without pages, everything jumbles and muddles, she's got to write, again, faster, no enough time for all the words, which one first, which page?
THe white pages overtake her, suffocate her. She's drowning in all that whiteness around her while the words inside her head that can't get out fast enough broil her thoughts. Until everything closes down on her. There. Done. Too late. The blank page won.
Books are falling down on her, burying her. This is it, what she's feared for years, finally happened: she's going to die, suffocated by tons of knowledge that she hasn't even got time to read and understand and memoriez first! and she hasn't finished jotting down her whole page, she...
...pushes the books off of her. She digs herself out and causes a new pile of books to fall with her flailing and kicks them away. They slide of the bed to the ground.
She sits up, bewildered, taking in the familiar space. Her bedroom. Her books everywhere. Books on the nightstand, at the foot of her bed, spilling to the floor. In the weak light of early morning. Where has this blank page gone to?
...left in a dream. A nightmare.
Nothing was real.
And yet, she knows that today, like yesterday, and the day before; and tomorrow, and the day after; she'll have to face hundreds of blank paper sheets all waiting to get filled up with words, the thousands of lost words only she remembers and need her to bring them back to the world.
She lets out a sigh. This job is driving her crazy!
Author:
maluretteFandom: FullMetal Alchemist, '03 anim
Character: Scieszka
Rating: PG / K+
Disclaimer: Arakawa's
Prompt: "writing" for
genprompt_bingo Note: translation of an older one shot
Word count:
Wedged at her desk; in front of her is a blank sheet. A sheet of empty, white paper she's got to fill. Within her are the words--the memory of words, jostling around, wanting to get out. She's got to corral them before she can jot them down one after the other all in the right order, on her sheet. If she's too fast, she'll lose her train of thought and jumble her sentence. There's this wide, blank sheet to fill and words are waltzing with her pen.
There's so, so, so much to do. The blank sheet is an ocean drinking up her words as soon as she traces them. It never ends. So many words to write down, so many pages to rewrite! The blank sheet widens and breeds more and more sheets.
Her whole world becomes a great blank sheet that she's got to fill. Her mind is a haven for wild words wanting to get written. Images of pages in her memory meddle and mix, words lose their meaning.
Still, she keeps on writing--she has to. The blank page keeps asking for more. And once it's done, another takes its place. And another one. And another one. Just as blank and wide and demanding. She's adrift on an ocean of white, blank sheets, the page she's writing on a raft waddling through wandering words.
What she traces on paper she doesn't even understand anymore--but she's got to get it out, get it down anyway, everything she remembers even if it makes no sense at the moment. She's got to fill the void.
The task swallows her whole. She can do nothing else.
If she doesn't fill this blank page with words the sheet will keep widening. Backlogged case files are piling up. Blank pages waiting to be written on surround her, pressure her, rise in waves all around and threaten to overtake her.
Pages without words, words without pages, everything jumbles and muddles, she's got to write, again, faster, no enough time for all the words, which one first, which page?
THe white pages overtake her, suffocate her. She's drowning in all that whiteness around her while the words inside her head that can't get out fast enough broil her thoughts. Until everything closes down on her. There. Done. Too late. The blank page won.
Books are falling down on her, burying her. This is it, what she's feared for years, finally happened: she's going to die, suffocated by tons of knowledge that she hasn't even got time to read and understand and memoriez first! and she hasn't finished jotting down her whole page, she...
...pushes the books off of her. She digs herself out and causes a new pile of books to fall with her flailing and kicks them away. They slide of the bed to the ground.
She sits up, bewildered, taking in the familiar space. Her bedroom. Her books everywhere. Books on the nightstand, at the foot of her bed, spilling to the floor. In the weak light of early morning. Where has this blank page gone to?
...left in a dream. A nightmare.
Nothing was real.
And yet, she knows that today, like yesterday, and the day before; and tomorrow, and the day after; she'll have to face hundreds of blank paper sheets all waiting to get filled up with words, the thousands of lost words only she remembers and need her to bring them back to the world.
She lets out a sigh. This job is driving her crazy!
