the house that jack built


by bespectakate about 6 years ago

It faded.

The pictures always did, but somehow they'd hoped this one would be different. It was more special than the others, it meant so much more - but no. It faded, just like the others.

It became an odd family ritual, to kiss the cheek that had faded before leaving the house, like you'd kiss a mother - it didn't matter that it was a picture of a film star, one they'd never meet.

He was winking. Maybe that was what made him good luck.

Mia had collected pictures, that had been the point of it - pictures cut from magazines, beautiful pictures, pictures that she liked. Pictures she could put on her wall, pictures that could decorate the bare flat. Pictures that were hope.

Tiana had wanted that paticular picture - he was handsome, and he was her favourite actor, and he was (obviously) the man she'd marry.

They had reached for it at the same moment.

Mia thought that if it had been any other girl, they would have argued, ended up enemies, not best friends. Best friends who had run away into adulthood together, who had started their own house, full of pictures, love, and hope.

The foster children raced around the house, but Mia and Tiana insisted that they kiss their namesake before bed and before school. He was their father and their brother. He was Mia's husband and Tiana's father.

Neither of them could remember his name.

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bespectakate

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Ladygirl of a British persuasion; sometimes I actually write stories that aren't depressing (but not very often)

I write for the http://jupiter-palladium.com, which is a webcomic about superheroes. Interesting ones. Cute ones, too. Which is nice. (It's cheerier than most things I write. That's where the happy goes, guys.)

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Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0

tags

family home

The prompt for this story