Tuesday's Child – Jesse Cook
He was born on a Tuesday.
He doesn't know exactly what year, because the records in his memory were chiselled out long ago. Rubbed and scratched and pounded into dust, by the scourge of the whip, and the constant reminder that he has no identity and no name, that he was never born. Or if he was born, in another world beyond the sea on a Tuesday, it was simply a terrible mistake.
Benjamin Barker curls further into the corner, shirt hanging around him in rags, stones buried in his cuts. He knows - he prays - he'll be dead by Tuesday.
It Snowed – Meaghan Smith
The dreary winter mornings come too early for Benjamin's taste. But he supposes it's his own fault for starting his own establishment. He needs to build the fire. He needs to sharpen his razors, sweep the floors once again, take inventory, and try to catch the custom of the early rising dock workers. He ties his scarf around his neck, buttoning his jacket, and steps outside into a blizzard. A minute later, he's back inside. "I'll have to stay in today."
On the bed, Lucy smiles. "In that case, I believe I shall add snow to my nightly prayers. Permanently."
Let Us Love – Needtobreathe
Ben Barker walks into her pie shop, every day, with a smile on his face.
A smile. Every day.
And just about as often, she wants to grab him by the collar, shake him till his head breaks clean off, and ask him if he realizes the world is a bloody miserable place. She wants to see his face fall for a moment, his eyes lose their sparkle... because then he'd just be a man, imperfect, inadequate, like the rest of them.
She wants to ask– except she figures she knows the answer already.
He knows. He just doesn't care.
False Pretense – Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
After nine months obtaining life, and three months desperately trying to hold onto it, a tiny coffin is little Oliver Lovett's only reward. He was chubby like his father, until the sickness set in, but he was as loud as his mother until the day he died.
Albert doesn't think the tear stains will ever vanish from his shirt. Scarlet rivers of blood are easier to remove than memories. He kisses Nellie's hair.
She sniffles. "Go ahead and open shop. I'll be fine, love."
"No masks, Nellie. Not with me."
Her mouth says she's fine. Her eyes say she died.
Dance Into the Night – Carlos Santana feat. Chad Kroeger
The first time Ben met her, she was a demon of the dance, skirts pulled up to her knees, her feet blazing hellfire across the table. Even the fiddles and pipes, wielded by the most formidable Irish musicians, struggled to keep up with her - with the way her skirts lashed her legs and the way her hair twirled around her face. The first time he met her, she was an angel, and he was entranced. The first time he met her, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
The second time he met her, she was Mrs. Lovett.
Float On –Modest Mouse
Benjamin Barker wondered if he was the only man in existence who shouted at Judge Turpin and lived to tell the tale. The pompous git deserved it, almost running him over in the streets. The carriage stopped a moment after, and the judge stepped out. Ben was still seeing red. His head wasn't clear. He demanded an apology. But the Beadle just stepped in and gave him a shove down the road – told him to mind his tongue.
Sometimes everything turned out fine, after all.
He realized later that he walked home with a string of pearls in his pocket.
Eet – Regina Spektor
She had sworn she wouldn't turn out like her mother, with a memory like a sieve, but it had happened. And at only twenty-three. She forgot her child's name. Not entirely - and not for long. Such a thing occurred often enough in her childhood. But the senior Mrs. Cromwell had raised six children. Lucy only had to deal with one.
She was exhausted, after all, and
worn down to the nerves from crying.
She sighed, and rocked the baby. Johanna screamed in her ear.
"Ben-Eleano-Alb... Johanna, will you please be quiet!"
Perhaps it was just a mother thing.
Salt in the Snow – The Classic Crime
In moments like this, Lucy would usually crawl to her husband, seek shelter in the warmth of his arms and the quiet of his voice. But her husband was gone, forever, and there was no warmth, or quiet, only dissonant strains of violins and the cry of hardened laughter in her ears. And she had never experienced a moment like this. Not even close. Now she had nothing. So she drank her troubles away from a bottle of arsenic.
Although, Eleanor had hired a coach to take her home from Turpin's.
And she had a baby.
On Fire - Switchfoot
When Albert looks at her, corners of his mouth curled up, sometimes she loves him, and sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes her skin flushes pink, like a schoolgirl with a fancy on the boy next to her, and sometimes not.
When Benjamin looks at her, she worries her soul might catch ablaze, and her face burns red as her hair.
Ben doesn't quite define her. But he could, given the chance. So she keeps her guard up whenever she begins to think of him, and prays to forget him even as she yearns to remember.
She was never much for praying.
In My Arms – Snow Patrol
When Lucy and Benjamin were first married, he was terrified that she would somehow break. That he would break her, simply by touching her. Albert was never exactly terrified he would break Nellie, although the thought had crossed his mind occasionally. He was very tall (and eventually large), and she was very small. If he ever mentioned it, she would have laughed at him.
In the end, Lucy shattered, but not by Benjamin's hand, and Nellie was worn down to her unbreakable bones. She lived long enough to love a man who liked – who needed – to break things. And then she burned.
A/N: So, I'm finished school for the semester. And I hurt my knee pretty badly during hockey, so I've been unable to work for the past few weeks, and I'm still on the mend. That equals a decent amount of spare time. And it's Christmas. Which means presents. And the combination of all those factors means that I have written these 10 drabbles! They're dedicated to all my readers, and there are ten of them, so you can squabble and claim them for yourselves. Haha. Anyways, each of them are 100 words exactly (although my word count decided randomly that dashes and brackets counted as words... which they don't...) so some of them read as 102 or such in a word counter. They're all set during the Ben Barker era, because there are some amazing ST drabbles out there and I didn't want to step on toes, and they were all based off of whatever song came up on my iTunes on shuffle. I did skip some songs, and I was a little selective that way, but I pretty much just shuffled it and if it sparked an idea, or if it sounded nice, I used it. And I may or may not write more, depending on how I feel. If I ever write more drabbles in the future, I'll still use this story, but I'll just make a new chapter.
Also, if you want, I wrote a short story for a gianthugetastic project I had to do for Fine Arts, and I turned it into a neat audiobook thing with music, and it ended up really epic, IMHO. So if anyone wants to hear it, please let me know, and I'll send you the link. It's 15 minutes long.
ANYWAYS. I hope you all enjoy. Merry Christmas! (And if you don't celebrate Christmas, I wish you an EXCELLENT holiday too! 8D) I love you guys!