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 |  All entries related to "House Targaryen" and the "Game of Thrones" activity |
Reviews: Review of "The cat always knows"  Review of "Medicine Show!" Review of "Wrong Turn" Review of "THE FRONT" Review of "The Symphony of Life" -------------------------------- Annie Oakley “Annie Oakley was so cool, wasn’t she, Mom?” “She sure was,” Heather agreed as she whisked the dough. She spared a glance at the man hidden behind the pages of The Times. If she squinted enough, she was sure those fingers had tightened around the edges just a bit – “Can I dress up like her for Halloween Day? Pretty please?” Her heart wiggled like Jello at the plea. How could anyone refuse those sea-green eyes especially in their trademark ‘puppy-dog’ mode? “I don’t see why not,” Heather began. “Why don’t you go as one of those Barbie girls?” came the brusque interruption which was soon followed the crinkling of paper as The Times was finally lowered to reveal a matching pair of sea-green; only these didn’t look as eager. “I mean, it’s all the rage now, isn’t it? For girls your age?” “I’m not a baby, Dad!” was the counter argument; followed by a frown, folded arms across chest, and a complimentary stomp of the foot. Heather sighed and whisked faster. If anyone doubted that those two were related, the incoming scene would be enough to convince them otherwise. Heather could almost smile at this if it wasn’t for the underlying reason behind the simmering hostility. “I’m gonna be fifteen in two months! I’m too old for Barbie, and besides, it’s disgusting.” “What the hell is so disgusting about wanting to dress up like…like… a normal girl for God’s sake?” And there it was. Heather closed her eyes and the whisking paused. “Allen.” It had meant to come out as a warning, but it sounded so small, so…tired. “I like what I wear,” their daughter argued. “What? Wearing jeans and a shirt is against the law now, Dad?” “You dress like a boy, Alex…Alexandria. A boy. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your confirmation and you were six at the time.” Alex opened her mouth as if to continue the bickering. In that moment, she could almost pass for a teenage version of the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. Her firebrand hair was cropped short to highlight a face blessed with high cheekbones, a Romanesque nose, and full lips that became generous when they broke into a smile to reveal the slightly crooked row of white teeth within. A dusting of freckles completed the profile, almost making her the poster child of the typical Irish breed – which they weren’t unfortunately. Heather had long given up on the dough she was mixing and was mentally preparing herself to be the referee again, while Allen – a much older version of their baby girl – sipped his coffee; looking all to eager to get into another round of verbal conflict. However – “Whatever,” came the low, and very unexpected, grumble from Alex. She rose to her feet and grabbed her backpack; shrugging it on and reaching for the brown paper bag filled with her lunch. “Bye, Mom,” she muttered with a quick kiss on Heather’s cheek. For her father, she gave a wry and way too adult smile his way before leaving their home with a loud slam of the door. “Teenagers,” Allen stated with a shake of his head. He prepared to go back to his paper, when Heather’s voice stalled his movements. “Why do you keep doing this? Every time-” “Because she’s a girl soon to be a woman, and I’ll be damned if I see her growing up to become one of those…those-” “The word is lesbians, Allen. Lesbians.” “Jesus Christ.” “It’s not as if she’s even officially told us yet-” “She’s been telling us all this time, hasn’t she? The day she decided to give all her girly clothes to the church, decided her dolls were no longer interesting, and she started asking me questions about guns and motorbikes – “Which you were thrilled about if I remember-” “And the haircut. My God, Hea! The haircut! I nearly had a heart attack!” “You did get a fever that night.” “Nope. Not happening. She is definitely not going to be some Annie Oakley at-” “Annie Oakley wore a dress, you know.” This piece of information seemed to stomp Allen into silence. The smile tugged at her lips at how confused he looked before the usual scowl returned. “Don’t try to confuse me,” he mumbled; his cheeks flaming with colour. He hid behind The Times again. “I knew that.” __ Truth be told, he was damn proud of his baby girl no matter how many arguments they got into, and as he watched her come down the stairs; dressed in the faux suede brown calf-length dress adorned with fringes and colourful flower motifs, complete with the Stetson hat, he felt his heart clench with an emotion that was intense love and yet gripping fear. He loved that his daughter was her own person and was finding herself no matter his thoughts on the direction she wished to go in life. However, he was aware of the hardships she would face as well; the ridicule – some of which she was already experiencing with the taunts some kids would throw her way or the whispers from the gossipy neighbours – and he would do anything in his power to spare her from the judgmental eyes of society. Her happiness was really all that mattered. “So? How do I look, Dad?” came the shy question that broke through his troubled thoughts. She spun around for him and for a moment - just one brief heartbreaking moment - she was six years old again. He caught the wet gaze of his wife and the silent plea within them and with a deep breath of resignation, he lifted the prop shotgun and placed it within his daughter’s outstretched hands. A hug seemed fitting, but not to ruin her outfit - and with both giving each other sheepish smiles - he settled for leaning closer to place a tender kiss on her forehead laced with the whispered words: “You are beautiful.” Word Count: 999 Prompt ▼  |
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