Queens Boulevard Courthouse

[RPF - LJ] White Night [How it started. What happened. How it ended.]

Title: White Night [How it started. What happened. As is finished]
Fandom: RPF - LJ
Characters: The author (I)
Prompts: Start (proposed by el_defe ) Fifteen Minutes (proposed by mapi_littleowl ) and Countdown (proposed by mikamikarin )
Rating: PG
Party: 1 / 1
Warning: Madness! \\ O /
Word Count: 1070 ( Contaparole )
Summary: Three times when I did not know what to write and I resolved to talk about what the author was trying.
Notes: Trilogy - so if we want to define - written for the White night organized by community maridichallenge . The three flash-fic is a bit 'different from those that I posted during the White Night because, of course, I ricorrette XD
Discaimer: The only character in this thing is me and I belong to myself. At least I think ...


The author knows that participate in this initiative is madness, I know perfectly well, but can not help it. It is locked in front of the computer screen and is constantly up and down the scroll bar - so it makes no effort, since it uses the mouse wheel - to peer comments becoming more and more every second passing.
"Where do I start?" He asks, looking - too much - prompt with a grimace and then stay for a few seconds to admire the icons of other users - or maybe crazy like much of her - as if the pictures could talk and tell her what to do. Maybe she should start
to prompte something, just not to stay there with our hands and she also actively participate in the initiative - or maybe it should just run away and come to your senses now that it's time - but those thoughts while the crowd mind - that all day did nothing but think with complicated plots and p0rn nonsense - his gaze falls on the first comment posted by El DeFeo. Start
, Law, and suddenly all the doubts - and the projects of escape - vanish and the question that was asked before the answer is much needed. "And where the hell should I start, if not from the beginning?"


*

How many words can you write in fifteen minutes?

The question buzzing in the ears of the Author and her jumping like a spring, lowers his head to watch the tiny digital orologino located on the Start bar and reads 00:41. Perfect. It crunches
fingers, neck and nerves of any nerve supply and then, as if he heard a whistle, Part. Fingers - the author, although he is ashamed to admit it, can only write with indexes - slip on your keyboard as fast as they had never done so far, perhaps too, but she has no illusions: he knows that within five minutes of all its verve disappear and then tries to give the maximum in the short time that remains fleeting throwing quick glances at the small, evil watch that before that time had never run so fast and wondering why, when she decides to impose a challenge, everything seems remarle against.
He never needed to drink while writing, and yet Every second - precious seconds - the author stretches his hand toward the bottle and takes a sip of orange juice, fast, and then ask his sister - who discovered his mad experiment has nothing better to do than to deride - to spend French fries with cheese that she loves and without which, that evening, could not survive.
drinks and even then, little by little - it's already 0:49 - the rate at which the index hit its dark keys decreases drastically and she realizes that very little is missing before the time runs out. But he must finish what he started. It squeezes your brain and try to think of something, anything to help her find the inspiration to go continue to affect the sheet of OpenOffice other words, again and again, in order to meet the challenge herself and to humiliate the vicious rumor in his head that constantly repeats that no, we have not yet, my dear, you are too slow!
rereads the last words he wrote, in the hope that is the lighting, but at some point - three minutes from time - his sister, one of the chips, starts talking, interrupt, and she sinks into panic total. How can he continue to write with questions of her sister - she is also author and her intent to write - that buzzing in your head? Try to find the calm, the concentration is now believed lost ever, and when looking at the small clock understood not to have more time.
fingers move suddenly and quickly with one eye while looking at the letters he writes to the other counts down the seconds that pass relentlessly, and when you reach the 0:56 stops.

459 words according to the counter FiDiPu responds, finally quiet.


*

5:46 am and is missing the little, very little. The author - in this long night that she loved much talked about in the fic she wrote - has reached the end of his strength and his patience and do not know what to do. Would you like to write one more
history - even a drabble to be fine because he can not absolutely conclude that the White Night, did not seem right - but prompt the slip before my eyes no longer communicate anything now, and all that remains, while the minutes flow fast and inexorably toward the much-coveted but now too close to 6 am, is the last prompt posted by Mikamikarin. Countdown .
When you read the few but significant words are immediately recalled that, nearly twelve hours before, he thought that the best way - the only way - to start this White Night was supposed to be writing a fanfiction - if it can be determined - Start with the prompt , and now realizes that the only way to end this night with dignity - a long, crazy, describe it a bit 'as you like - is trying to use the last few minutes that remain to write his last, tired and confused impressions.
might have been better if he had written a fanfiction, I think - regretting not having written not a gay! P0rn little small - but not sad or downcast, indeed, probably could not be happier than that.
Ed is happy because we did it to stay awake so far, is happy because he has not given up - even if well two times his computer has turned off, so, out of the blue and without even a real reason - and is happy because now it is here, in front of the LJ page - did not have time to write about OpenOffice - to give his last words on this initiative.
The countdown is now no longer scares her, but before he left, he feels it is right to give thanks, and thank those who had the idea and organized and, above all, to thank the people who have been through and who have made a world of fun.
Goodnight all, in fact, no. Good morning.