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The constraint of drabble format is interesting: it forces you to choose your words carefully because you only have 100 of them to spend. "Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
This came like *BAM* when I was reading back a little to see how many posts I had made today, and chuckled briefly at this post where I quoted an amusing line from today's Diesel Sweeties. Suddenly I found myself opening a blank text document and babbling.
And my soul?
Afterwards, I wondered silently why I had bothered to ask Albus how he weighed my soul against Draco's. His words were fair and persuasive, but underneath them I heard his true thought:
What soul, Severus?
I wonder how many others he thinks it of. Maybe that is how he is able to do what he does.
I'm not unused to being called "soulless"; it's a word often in fine company: Cold. Bitter. Cruel. Spiteful. Those -- as true as scales on a snake. But how could I have earned them without a soul?
I certainly have enough for what is next.
First draft was 146 words:
After I left his office, I wondered to myself if there had been any point in asking Albus how he weighed my soul against young Draco's. To be sure, his words were persuasive in their fair cloak, but underneath them I heard it, I heard his true thought:
What soul, Severus?
I wonder how many others he thinks it of, besides me. Maybe that is how he is able to do what he does.
It is not as though I am not used to the word being levelled at me -- "soulless". It's often in fine company: Cold-hearted. Bitter. Petty. Cruel. Spiteful. Mean-spirited. Those words -- how can I deny them? As true as scales on a snake. But what "soulless" person could have mustered the life and character necessary to earn the rest?
What soul, indeed.
I certainly have enough for what is coming next.
This came like *BAM* when I was reading back a little to see how many posts I had made today, and chuckled briefly at this post where I quoted an amusing line from today's Diesel Sweeties. Suddenly I found myself opening a blank text document and babbling.
And my soul?
Afterwards, I wondered silently why I had bothered to ask Albus how he weighed my soul against Draco's. His words were fair and persuasive, but underneath them I heard his true thought:
What soul, Severus?
I wonder how many others he thinks it of. Maybe that is how he is able to do what he does.
I'm not unused to being called "soulless"; it's a word often in fine company: Cold. Bitter. Cruel. Spiteful. Those -- as true as scales on a snake. But how could I have earned them without a soul?
I certainly have enough for what is next.
First draft was 146 words:
After I left his office, I wondered to myself if there had been any point in asking Albus how he weighed my soul against young Draco's. To be sure, his words were persuasive in their fair cloak, but underneath them I heard it, I heard his true thought:
What soul, Severus?
I wonder how many others he thinks it of, besides me. Maybe that is how he is able to do what he does.
It is not as though I am not used to the word being levelled at me -- "soulless". It's often in fine company: Cold-hearted. Bitter. Petty. Cruel. Spiteful. Mean-spirited. Those words -- how can I deny them? As true as scales on a snake. But what "soulless" person could have mustered the life and character necessary to earn the rest?
What soul, indeed.
I certainly have enough for what is coming next.