Lady of the Island, LOST, Miles Straume

Date: 2011-10-09 02:06 am (UTC)
gloss: annoyed man squinting off-frame (Lost: Miles grown)
From: [personal profile] gloss
prompt: connecting the distant past with the distant future


Miles has no time for ghosts. He hears the dead all too clearly to bother with any bullshit.

And he never looked at his mother straight-on, not as a teenager, especially not as her belly starts to grow.

Her red kerchief's in his back pocket. It still smells like her, oranges and jasmine. She left it behind in the cafeteria one morning; she'd come in with it over her hair, still damp from the rollers.

It burned, scarlet and crimson and beautiful, on the table until he grabbed it.

He keeps her close now, for a "now" that becomes forever.
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