Post by mellochino on Nov 16, 2009 4:30:10 GMT
Hey, Laura here. I've never written a fanfic before, never mind a Decget one. So please be patient with me I've decided to write a Decget story, that involves magic and all that kind of stuff (I've been watching too many sci-fi movies). I know it's extremely far fetched, but I wanted to give it a go and try a different angle of a story with them. I'm starting with Declan's POV and I'll write Didge's POV in a bit....that's as long as people think it's ok (feel free to mash me with a stick if it's rubbish lol). I'm loving the stories on here that you guys have written and I hope mine isn't too rubbish and disappointing Anyway, here we go~
Declan POV
It has been almost a year that Bridget Parker has died. The street was just the same as it had always been, except for Declan Napier, who still remembered and was haunted by the past of his wife’s passing. At least that’s what it felt like he was the only one who remembered her sometimes. Still, under the circumstances, he was coping better these days, but he swore to never forget Didge. How could he, when he had a beautiful daughter India, who was a splitting image of her? At a year old, she was beginning to talk a little and was beginning to find her feet. Despite the precious gift that Didge had left him, there was still a massive hole in his heart where his beautiful wife should be.
Saying that, Declan had tried to move on, he had feeling for Kate Ramsay, but even then Declan was confused about that. He never wanted to come across as being a user, but having Kate in his life provided some sort of comfort to him. He often questioned whether he was doing the right thing for Kate and for India by being in this relationship. Was it wrong to move on? Was he just doing this to fill the void? No….no, he couldn’t think like that. Kate wasn’t Didge, she was Kate. He couldn’t let himself forget that.
He pulled a face as he tried to clear his mind, this wasn’t doing him any good. He needed to move on. It was the right thing, wasn’t it? His thoughts were then interrupted by India crying. Declan smiled, he still had India, he felt that he was a very lucky man to have such a precious gift. “I’m coming, India,” he said, standing up. As he stood up, he knocked into one of the chair end tables. It was then that there came a smashing sound, over the other end of the table.
Declan frowned, this was all he needed. He walked towards the place the smashing noise had come from. He wanted to swear when he realised what he’d broken. It was a picture of Didge, India and him. It was a precious memory and he’d stupidly knocked it off of the table. He picked up the frame, slicing his finger on a broke glass shard as he did. Again, he wanted to swear very loudly, however India beat him to it, wailing louder and louder for her Dad to come. Hastily Declan picked up the broken frame and put it back on top of the table. He’d have to find a new frame and clear up that mess later.
“I wish you were here, Didge” he said to himself, as he wrapped a tissue around the cut. “I just wish you were here…” he muttered again to himself as he went into to India’s room.
Back on the table was the broken frame and an exposed photo. The photo unfortunately has a large droplet of blood where Bridget was. If Declan didn’t believe in magic he soon would, as the sound of his sad wish and the blood from the cut on his finger combined. Someone had heard the wish and had decided to respond. However, wishes don’t always happen the way things were intended, as he would soon find out for himself. The photo had changed and the place where Bridget had once been in that photo had vanished. Unbeknown to Declan, his wife was coming back from the land of the dead.
Declan POV
It has been almost a year that Bridget Parker has died. The street was just the same as it had always been, except for Declan Napier, who still remembered and was haunted by the past of his wife’s passing. At least that’s what it felt like he was the only one who remembered her sometimes. Still, under the circumstances, he was coping better these days, but he swore to never forget Didge. How could he, when he had a beautiful daughter India, who was a splitting image of her? At a year old, she was beginning to talk a little and was beginning to find her feet. Despite the precious gift that Didge had left him, there was still a massive hole in his heart where his beautiful wife should be.
Saying that, Declan had tried to move on, he had feeling for Kate Ramsay, but even then Declan was confused about that. He never wanted to come across as being a user, but having Kate in his life provided some sort of comfort to him. He often questioned whether he was doing the right thing for Kate and for India by being in this relationship. Was it wrong to move on? Was he just doing this to fill the void? No….no, he couldn’t think like that. Kate wasn’t Didge, she was Kate. He couldn’t let himself forget that.
He pulled a face as he tried to clear his mind, this wasn’t doing him any good. He needed to move on. It was the right thing, wasn’t it? His thoughts were then interrupted by India crying. Declan smiled, he still had India, he felt that he was a very lucky man to have such a precious gift. “I’m coming, India,” he said, standing up. As he stood up, he knocked into one of the chair end tables. It was then that there came a smashing sound, over the other end of the table.
Declan frowned, this was all he needed. He walked towards the place the smashing noise had come from. He wanted to swear when he realised what he’d broken. It was a picture of Didge, India and him. It was a precious memory and he’d stupidly knocked it off of the table. He picked up the frame, slicing his finger on a broke glass shard as he did. Again, he wanted to swear very loudly, however India beat him to it, wailing louder and louder for her Dad to come. Hastily Declan picked up the broken frame and put it back on top of the table. He’d have to find a new frame and clear up that mess later.
“I wish you were here, Didge” he said to himself, as he wrapped a tissue around the cut. “I just wish you were here…” he muttered again to himself as he went into to India’s room.
Back on the table was the broken frame and an exposed photo. The photo unfortunately has a large droplet of blood where Bridget was. If Declan didn’t believe in magic he soon would, as the sound of his sad wish and the blood from the cut on his finger combined. Someone had heard the wish and had decided to respond. However, wishes don’t always happen the way things were intended, as he would soon find out for himself. The photo had changed and the place where Bridget had once been in that photo had vanished. Unbeknown to Declan, his wife was coming back from the land of the dead.