1917 - 2008
(This is a little early to be posting for me, but the Muse works in mysterious ways, I guess.)
Title: Far Stranger.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Colin Mochrie, Ryan Stiles
Prompt: Earth.
Word Count: 268
Rating: U
Summary: Sometimes, only the most oblique response can be the perfect way to sum up your feelings. Such is the case for Ryan Stiles.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
For the most part, this ‘fic is Colin stream – of – consciousness, but there are a few snippets of dialogue, however vague they might really sound.
In memory of Arthur C. Clarke. I just hope this is in as good taste as it can be.
Little Damn Table.
contemplativeTitle: Far Stranger.
Fandom: Whose Line Is It Anyway? (UK)
Characters: Colin Mochrie, Ryan Stiles
Prompt: Earth.
Word Count: 268
Rating: U
Summary: Sometimes, only the most oblique response can be the perfect way to sum up your feelings. Such is the case for Ryan Stiles.
Author's Notes: These are purely assumptions. I acknowledge that Ryan Stiles, Colin Mochrie and any other persons portrayed are real people, and any opinions expressed in writing in these 'fics are purely of my own speculation.
For the most part, this ‘fic is Colin stream – of – consciousness, but there are a few snippets of dialogue, however vague they might really sound.
In memory of Arthur C. Clarke. I just hope this is in as good taste as it can be.
Little Damn Table.
"How inappropriate to call this planet Earth, when clearly it is Ocean." – Arthur C. Clarke.
He didn’t look right. There was something in his eyes that spoke to me about an allusion to some sort of event, or some sort of filthy joke gone wrong, but I wasn’t sure why, or what, or how, or even when, this had come about. His hair was more dishevelled than usual. He was slouching. There were lines engraved in his face that I had never seen before. I became confused – he had been absolutely fine the other day, even yesterday at the studio he was in good spirits. Problem was, I was afraid to even ask him what was up, in case I would hit on a particular nerve that just wouldn’t stop twitching and he wouldn’t stop talking about it. Instead, I thought about space, and how lonely it must be up there for someone travelling there; how isolated they’d be up there. It must be so awe inspiring to see the Earth from there, shining all green and blue like a jewel. I realised how much we needed to go stargazing again, that is, if we could see them through the London pollution. I wasn’t even able to think about what space travel really would be like, if only because I’d never had the chance to take part in it. Although that really is a poor excuse for not having an imagination; even so, I’d rather just speculate. Sometimes speculation, fiction and escapism are the only ways to see into the future; to do something about our real – life situation.
“Ryan, what’s wrong? You seem disheartened.”
“The truth, as always, will be far stranger.”
He didn’t look right. There was something in his eyes that spoke to me about an allusion to some sort of event, or some sort of filthy joke gone wrong, but I wasn’t sure why, or what, or how, or even when, this had come about. His hair was more dishevelled than usual. He was slouching. There were lines engraved in his face that I had never seen before. I became confused – he had been absolutely fine the other day, even yesterday at the studio he was in good spirits. Problem was, I was afraid to even ask him what was up, in case I would hit on a particular nerve that just wouldn’t stop twitching and he wouldn’t stop talking about it. Instead, I thought about space, and how lonely it must be up there for someone travelling there; how isolated they’d be up there. It must be so awe inspiring to see the Earth from there, shining all green and blue like a jewel. I realised how much we needed to go stargazing again, that is, if we could see them through the London pollution. I wasn’t even able to think about what space travel really would be like, if only because I’d never had the chance to take part in it. Although that really is a poor excuse for not having an imagination; even so, I’d rather just speculate. Sometimes speculation, fiction and escapism are the only ways to see into the future; to do something about our real – life situation.
“Ryan, what’s wrong? You seem disheartened.”
“The truth, as always, will be far stranger.”
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