Week Four: Anakin
Rating: PG

From TFN: A Drabble is an extremely short work of fiction with exactly one hundred words. The purpose of the drabble is to teach brevity and test author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in an extremely confined space. They must be 100 words each. No more, no less.


He is tense as he gazes over his friends. Those who are expecting him to get him through this. Those who are expecting him to lead them.

He looks down at his plate. Why did he volunteer for this mission? What drove him to do so?

His eyes flicker from one table to the next, as he wonders if any of them would die on their mission. Finally his eyes settle on the blonde girl sitting next to him. What would happen if she does? Could he survive?

She smiles, teeth and flashing green eyes.

Would he want to survive?


Burning. Pain. Fire.

It settles through his gut, even as he dances around the warriors, slaughtering them as they advance. He glories in the Force, the way it feels, the way it reacts.

He can even feel the Vong.

Slash, push, parry. He nudges the thermal detonator away from Anor.

The Force is leaving him, his body giving away after the sheer amount of energy he pushed through it. A final desperate grasp at life, even as he falls to his knees. The last bits of the power to knit, to bind. Is it enough?

Darkness and he is gone.


He sits up suddenly, his chest heaving. A bad dream. Calming himself, he looks down and sees her face, sweaty, a slight pout to her full lips. Her blonde hair glows slightly in the dim organic lights of the Vong ship. A grin slips onto his face as he remembers the night before. He lies back down beside her, and traces a finger along her chin.

Her eyes open. Bright, shining, happy. He nudges her with the Force, a playful, loving touch.

She responds by pulling his lips to hers. Claiming them. Claiming him.

I love you.

I know dummy.


He stands between his siblings. Jaina’s anger and rage, Jacen’s distrust and despair. He caused this. This is all his fault. He looks down and sees nothing. Emptiness. A void. He thinks back. Remembers the detonator. Remembers falling. Then here. The blackness. He remembers dying.

Is this death? Is this hell? Is the Force condemning him for what he did to his family by not being there? And where is Tahiri?


No echo. Nothing.

He reaches for the Force, and finds nothing. Alone. Deserted. He struggles to see something in the blackness around him.

And fails.

Where is this?


Awareness comes slowly. A creeping touch. He looks up, and sees the metallic looking trees of Mrykr.

That explains the curious echoing feeling in his head.

He sits up, and sees the Vong surrounding him. They are shamed. They bow to him.


He frowns. That sounds familiar. A word he heard while rescuing Tahiri. He sits up from the cocoon thing, and focuses on the one he thinks is the leader of the group around him.

“Where am I?”

The Shamed smiles. A horrid thing of missing teeth and open sores. “You know Yun-Yammka. The better question is when.”

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