A Challenge Drabble for the word Pumpkin Pie
By Flatkatsi
He could smell it, warm and inviting. What did it remind him of?
Something scrapped at the edge of his mind, teasing him. He couldn’t rest until he remembered.
He felt hands holding him, gripping him tight. Anxious voices calling to him as he fought not to close his eyes.
The Doc was distracting him, telling him to stay with her. She didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t going anywhere. All he wanted to do was remember. Was that too much to ask?
That’s it.
His Grandmother. Cool Fall days and times of innocence.
Pumpkin pie.
Now he could sleep.
A Challenge Drabble for the word Pumpkin Pie – sequel to Lifeline
By Flatkatsi
It teased him, just tantalisingly out of reach, beckoning to him. The smell alone was driving him crazy. It was probably a good thing that he couldn’t seem to open his eyes. Was this some sort of new Goa’uld torture? Some warped evil plot? Tempting him to make him talk.
But the Doc had been here, so that wasn’t right. His mind was muzzy, the only thing crystal clear, that delicious smell.
It was so unfair. Wrong on so many levels.
There were voices now.
“More pie, Major Carter?”
“Thanks Teal’c, maybe just one more piece.”
Yes, so very unfair.
A Challenge Drabble for the word Pumpkin Pie – sequel to Life’s Like That
By Flatkatsi
He didn’t ask to get hurt, didn’t stand there shouting “pick me, pick me,” so why was it always him? He felt cheated. It was like he had missed his turn in the game and had to go back to ‘go’, slide down that snake, straight to jail without collecting the money.
He saw it in his mind’s eye. This time he hadn’t even walked down the steps before the first arrow had hit.
Was he getting slow? Were his reactions off?
And now, as punishment, pumpkin pie had been sent to tempt him. So close and yet so far…
Dreams of Life
A Challenge Drabble for the word Pumpkin Pie – sequel to Life as a Target
By Flatkatsi
He drifted on the edge of memory, allowing himself a rare opportunity to take stock. He knew where he was, had never doubted that his team would get him home, but he felt divorced from the here and now. It was far easier to revert to the past where no pain dwelt.
His grandmother had been his anchor in a stormy childhood, someone who could be relied on for comfort and warmth – something that he sought now but never found. The comfort of soft quiet hugs and pumpkin pie in the afternoon, of past remembered and held with a grip of iron.