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December 6, 2006

Michele: Nooooooooooooooo!

She stared at him.

This was the only way she knew him, really. Entrapped. She had never let him out, not even once. She could see him through the small window, look at his face and sigh over his fine, perfect features.

Then one day she got the urge to touch him. To hold him, to feel him.

She needed to set him free.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the opening. She felt a weird guilt as she lifted him from the packaging he’d been stuffed behind since 1977.

“Darth Vader,” she whispered. “You are free at last.”

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Comments

*Gasp!*

The Horror!

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at December 6, 2006 3:37 PM · Permalink

Geeeeeek. :)

Posted by: Stacy at December 6, 2006 3:41 PM · Permalink

I hope it wasn't a bad kind of touch.

Although that might have been burned off on Mustafar, too.

Posted by: Laurence Simon at December 6, 2006 3:48 PM · Permalink