Two Easter drabbles
Apr. 22nd, 2006 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mayhapWhat do you mean, it's not Easter? It's Orthodox Easter, so there! It's not just that I'm a week late or anything. *polishes halo*
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wisdomeagle, two misplaced Easter eggs. Jesus/Mary Magdalene. 100 words each. G. Please to not be clicking if you would be offended, or come crying to me if you are, thanks muchly!
Oh, and not anything to do with the Da Vinci Code, either.
The one that's fluffier than a whole package of Marshmallow Peeps
She didn't always realize that she was doing it. A touch of his garment, a brush of her hand against his, a dozen little touches that brought her healing even on the worst days, when her feet ached and Peter and John were fighting and all their words seemed to fall on deaf ears.
Then at the end of one long, hard day he rested his hand on her shoulder and sighed. "You heal me. Like clean water on a hot day."
"But I didn't do anything," she said, confused.
"I know," he said, and he smiled. "That's the miracle."
The one with the gratuitous cracktastic crossover
"Hey, Mary Anne? What musical are we putting on this year?"
"Oklahoma," she answered, absently. We were coloring posters for the first annual Gay-Straight Alliance dance.
I frowned. "So we're not doing Jesus Christ Superstar?"
"No. Why?"
I jerked my head at the two strange people who were standing in the doorway, poking their heads in.
"Oh, hi," said the man with the long hair and the beard and the tunic. "We're just. Um. Looking around. You know." He turned to the woman at his side. "Isn't this great, Mary?"
"You'd better see to Paul. I think he's fainted again."
For
wisdomeagle, two misplaced Easter eggs. Jesus/Mary Magdalene. 100 words each. G. Please to not be clicking if you would be offended, or come crying to me if you are, thanks muchly!Oh, and not anything to do with the Da Vinci Code, either.
The one that's fluffier than a whole package of Marshmallow Peeps
She didn't always realize that she was doing it. A touch of his garment, a brush of her hand against his, a dozen little touches that brought her healing even on the worst days, when her feet ached and Peter and John were fighting and all their words seemed to fall on deaf ears.
Then at the end of one long, hard day he rested his hand on her shoulder and sighed. "You heal me. Like clean water on a hot day."
"But I didn't do anything," she said, confused.
"I know," he said, and he smiled. "That's the miracle."
The one with the gratuitous cracktastic crossover
"Hey, Mary Anne? What musical are we putting on this year?"
"Oklahoma," she answered, absently. We were coloring posters for the first annual Gay-Straight Alliance dance.
I frowned. "So we're not doing Jesus Christ Superstar?"
"No. Why?"
I jerked my head at the two strange people who were standing in the doorway, poking their heads in.
"Oh, hi," said the man with the long hair and the beard and the tunic. "We're just. Um. Looking around. You know." He turned to the woman at his side. "Isn't this great, Mary?"
"You'd better see to Paul. I think he's fainted again."
