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Good morning on notebook
A few years ago everyone in Sunnydale couldn't talk. You probably saw the news reports but it wasn't laryngitis. There were these creepy guys called The Gentlemen that stole our voices and we had to write everything down. You don't really realize how much you miss something until you can't talk. And charades really, really isn't a good way to try to get an idea across.
I'd faced vampires, Mayor Wilkins, and all kinds of demons, but I was never more scared than I was when when I opened the dorm door and Tara accidentally ran into me as she was being chased by the Gentlemen. I grabbed her hand and we ran for the stairs, well she ran and I limped. I knew there was no way we could outrun them, but I hoped we could hide somewhere.
We made it to the laundry room and tried to barricade the door but the creepy Igor looking guys kept pushing against it. I saw the soda machine and as stupid as it sounds tried to push it. I don't have strength like Kennedy, but I thought hey little old ladies can push a car off their grandson when they're trapped underneath, Tara and I should be able to push it. Yeah, not so much. I had enough adrenalin, believe me, but no super human little old lady power came.
Well, if adrenalin didn't work I thought maybe magic. You'd think with my kerfloopey magic after Oz left I wouldn't want to try it again. Seriously, life or death situations make you do the wacky, so I stared at the machine. Really, really, hard. It budged about an inch. If it wasn't for Tara's magic, we would have had our heart's ripped out.
She grabbed my hand, and nodded her head. For the first time in my life I silently communicated with someone. Really knowing what they meant and what we should do. We stared into each other's eyes for a minute then both of us turned to look at the machine. HA! Seemed magic adrenalin was much more powerful than the little old lady kind. The machine flew, not literally, across the floor and blocked us in. We were safe until Buffy saved the day, once again.
When we got our voices back, I was never so glad to be able to communicate without writing on a whiteboard or notebook. Do you know how hard it is to babble on a whiteboard? It's hard.
Muse: Willow Rosenberg
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word count: 414
A few years ago everyone in Sunnydale couldn't talk. You probably saw the news reports but it wasn't laryngitis. There were these creepy guys called The Gentlemen that stole our voices and we had to write everything down. You don't really realize how much you miss something until you can't talk. And charades really, really isn't a good way to try to get an idea across.
I'd faced vampires, Mayor Wilkins, and all kinds of demons, but I was never more scared than I was when when I opened the dorm door and Tara accidentally ran into me as she was being chased by the Gentlemen. I grabbed her hand and we ran for the stairs, well she ran and I limped. I knew there was no way we could outrun them, but I hoped we could hide somewhere.
We made it to the laundry room and tried to barricade the door but the creepy Igor looking guys kept pushing against it. I saw the soda machine and as stupid as it sounds tried to push it. I don't have strength like Kennedy, but I thought hey little old ladies can push a car off their grandson when they're trapped underneath, Tara and I should be able to push it. Yeah, not so much. I had enough adrenalin, believe me, but no super human little old lady power came.
Well, if adrenalin didn't work I thought maybe magic. You'd think with my kerfloopey magic after Oz left I wouldn't want to try it again. Seriously, life or death situations make you do the wacky, so I stared at the machine. Really, really, hard. It budged about an inch. If it wasn't for Tara's magic, we would have had our heart's ripped out.
She grabbed my hand, and nodded her head. For the first time in my life I silently communicated with someone. Really knowing what they meant and what we should do. We stared into each other's eyes for a minute then both of us turned to look at the machine. HA! Seemed magic adrenalin was much more powerful than the little old lady kind. The machine flew, not literally, across the floor and blocked us in. We were safe until Buffy saved the day, once again.
When we got our voices back, I was never so glad to be able to communicate without writing on a whiteboard or notebook. Do you know how hard it is to babble on a whiteboard? It's hard.
Muse: Willow Rosenberg
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word count: 414
