Nexus 100 Taste, Smell, Summer
May. 11th, 2009 03:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
evillurksTable to be posted momentarily.
Title: Iron in the mouth
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 039 Taste
Word Count: 115
Rating: PG
Summary: Short and sweet.
Author's Notes: Perhaps it should disturb me that this was the first idea that embedded itself in my mind.
It was iron in the mouth, like rusted metal but without the shock of a foreign temperature. The taste reached into his awareness while the sensation of pain remained shut out. Later, when the chase was over, he would feel the aches and the thirst from blood loss. When his work was done he would pay for the adrenaline that coursed along his limbs, a dull poison in his diminishing blood that urged him on to greater speeds. Alone before a mirror, he would assess the damage and patch up what he could, adding the sting of antiseptic and stitches to the price.
For now, he was only aware of the flavour of the chase.
Title: Closed doors
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow (allusion to Lamont Cranston)
Prompt: 036 Smell
Word Count: 300
Rating: G
Summary: The older Shadow is sometimes struck with fits of nostalgia.
Author's Notes: While the 1994 movie has a number of flaws, there are some things it did very well, and the image of the Cobalt Club is one of them.
Of all the senses, he wondered, why is it this that ties so closely to memory? What sense was there in the nostalgia rising unbidden with a bite to his soul, when it was triggered by something he’d paid so little attention to at the time? Distinctly he remembered the sounds, the muted clatter of glass and flatware mingled with a babble of low voices. The susurration had been punctuated sometimes by laughter, often distinct enough to betray specific people without the need to turn his head and look for the source. Stronger still where the sights; women like peacocks, dressed to be seen and admired, men in suits of white or black talking in clumps, or looking like accessories on the arms of the women they escorted. Throughout it all shone a backdrop of pale monochromatic architecture, highlighted by startling accents of vivid blue. The tastes offered were memorable, fine wines and harder drinks, the heat of good cigars, and the mouth-watering appeal of good food elegantly prepared. His fingers still recalled the feel of silken surfaces, some the softness of fine fabrics in the tablecloth or a lady’s shoulder, others the smooth cool of glass.
He had never noticed the smell, a mix of smoke and perfumes, fine food and beautiful people, odors that brought all the rest to flash in the forefront of his mind. The Cobalt Club had closed its doors for the last time some years ago. That world was one he had only borrowed, visiting in a costume and mask. He had never belonged to the swirl of the charming elite, and never would.
Without a flicker of expression to betray his thoughts, The Shadow let the garment bag fall back over the suit that belonged to Lamont Cranston, and closed the closet door.
Title: Blacktop Jungle
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 063 Summer
Word Count: 141
Rating: G
Summary: An unpleasant stakeout.
Author's Notes: The costume is very practical, in a number of ways, but not always. Summer in New York is unpleasant.
Having tried fire escapes and nearby alleys, he was forced to conclude that the best spot to observe from was the neighbouring rooftop. From there he could post himself well before dark, without any worry of being seen. With dark coming so late in the evening, there was a good chance he’d miss the opening he needed by waiting until then. From a distance, his cloaked form blended with the tarred surface of the roof. Whenever he shifted, there was a soft crackle as the soles of his shoes came reluctantly unglued. The low hum of the rooftop units of the air conditioning was a constant in the background. Sweat trickled in slow rivulets down the back of his neck. The setting sun on his dark hat made it into a small personal oven.
There were moments he regretted wearing black.
Title: Iron in the mouth
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 039 Taste
Word Count: 115
Rating: PG
Summary: Short and sweet.
Author's Notes: Perhaps it should disturb me that this was the first idea that embedded itself in my mind.
It was iron in the mouth, like rusted metal but without the shock of a foreign temperature. The taste reached into his awareness while the sensation of pain remained shut out. Later, when the chase was over, he would feel the aches and the thirst from blood loss. When his work was done he would pay for the adrenaline that coursed along his limbs, a dull poison in his diminishing blood that urged him on to greater speeds. Alone before a mirror, he would assess the damage and patch up what he could, adding the sting of antiseptic and stitches to the price.
For now, he was only aware of the flavour of the chase.
Title: Closed doors
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow (allusion to Lamont Cranston)
Prompt: 036 Smell
Word Count: 300
Rating: G
Summary: The older Shadow is sometimes struck with fits of nostalgia.
Author's Notes: While the 1994 movie has a number of flaws, there are some things it did very well, and the image of the Cobalt Club is one of them.
Of all the senses, he wondered, why is it this that ties so closely to memory? What sense was there in the nostalgia rising unbidden with a bite to his soul, when it was triggered by something he’d paid so little attention to at the time? Distinctly he remembered the sounds, the muted clatter of glass and flatware mingled with a babble of low voices. The susurration had been punctuated sometimes by laughter, often distinct enough to betray specific people without the need to turn his head and look for the source. Stronger still where the sights; women like peacocks, dressed to be seen and admired, men in suits of white or black talking in clumps, or looking like accessories on the arms of the women they escorted. Throughout it all shone a backdrop of pale monochromatic architecture, highlighted by startling accents of vivid blue. The tastes offered were memorable, fine wines and harder drinks, the heat of good cigars, and the mouth-watering appeal of good food elegantly prepared. His fingers still recalled the feel of silken surfaces, some the softness of fine fabrics in the tablecloth or a lady’s shoulder, others the smooth cool of glass.
He had never noticed the smell, a mix of smoke and perfumes, fine food and beautiful people, odors that brought all the rest to flash in the forefront of his mind. The Cobalt Club had closed its doors for the last time some years ago. That world was one he had only borrowed, visiting in a costume and mask. He had never belonged to the swirl of the charming elite, and never would.
Without a flicker of expression to betray his thoughts, The Shadow let the garment bag fall back over the suit that belonged to Lamont Cranston, and closed the closet door.
Title: Blacktop Jungle
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow
Prompt: 063 Summer
Word Count: 141
Rating: G
Summary: An unpleasant stakeout.
Author's Notes: The costume is very practical, in a number of ways, but not always. Summer in New York is unpleasant.
Having tried fire escapes and nearby alleys, he was forced to conclude that the best spot to observe from was the neighbouring rooftop. From there he could post himself well before dark, without any worry of being seen. With dark coming so late in the evening, there was a good chance he’d miss the opening he needed by waiting until then. From a distance, his cloaked form blended with the tarred surface of the roof. Whenever he shifted, there was a soft crackle as the soles of his shoes came reluctantly unglued. The low hum of the rooftop units of the air conditioning was a constant in the background. Sweat trickled in slow rivulets down the back of his neck. The setting sun on his dark hat made it into a small personal oven.
There were moments he regretted wearing black.