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The Sandwitch
The lights were dim and the windows were caked with a layer of dust and grime. As Rowan sat on the stool at the counter, waiting, she traced a curve with her finger across the glass surface. She just let her finger move wherever, picking up a thin layer of dust as it went along.
"Order 16!" called a voice from behind the counter. Rowan looked up, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, to see a tall blonde man approaching. "That's you, right?"
Rowan looked down at her receipt. "Yeah, that's me."
"Perfect." The man looked at her strangely. "Your sandwitch will be out here shortly."
"I'm sure it'll be delicious," Rowan replied, though she looked concerned. "I was just wondering..."
"Yes?" the man asked, looking at her expectantly.
"What type of sandwich is it?" Rowan asked. "The menu didn't exactly say..."
"It's a sandwitch, ma'am," the man replied plainly. "There aren't really many different kinds." With that, he moseyed off towards the back of the store.
Sighing, Rowan adjusted herself on the stool and looked over her shoulder. There were a few folks sitting at tables, mostly looking inward towards the centre of the room. Towards Rowan, though they merely looked with a cautious curiosity. It wasn't often a new person came in and made an order, and certainly not one as young as Rowan.
"Alright," the man said, reappearing once more behind the counter. This time, however, someone much shorter was following close behind him, almost out of view. "Here is your sandwitch." Then, he stepped aside.
Behind him was a shorter girl, whose sandy-brown hair cupped her face and whose ruffled white shirt stood out against the deep brown of her skin. She looked to be about Rowan's age. "Hey," she said in a scratchy voice. "How's it going?"
"F-fine," Rowan stammered, her face growing red. She turned to the man. "What's going on? I thought I ordered a sandwich."
"A sandwitch, girl—mind the 'T'," he said. "This is what you ordered, this is what you paid for, and this is what you're getting."
Rowan raised an eyebrow, but looked back up at the menu. Sure enough, there were several oddities; in particular, she noted that the Gaelic names in the "Spirits" section likely weren't alcohol-related after all. "Ah, damn," she said. "I really need to start looking where I'm going."
"S-so you don't want me?" the sandy-haired girl stammered.
"Oh, no, I didn't say that!" Rowan exclaimed sympathetically, though her face was still a burning red. "Please, come with me, and let's hang out!"
"Are you sure?" the girl asked, biting her lip. "I don't want to be a burden if I'm not wanted."
"Nonsense," Rowan replied, reaching a hand forward. The sandy-haired girl glanced at the appendage for a moment before taking it in her own, and slowly Rowan helped her climb over the counter. Once they were both standing together, hands still clasped, they both walked out the doors, only smudging a small amount of grime with their shoulders as they walked past.
"Where do you wanna go?" Rowan asked. Her head darted back and forth as she spoke, looking out for any sufficient nook or cranny.
"Hmm..." the sandy-haired girl replied. According to her, she was named Tiffany—and Rowan thought that was a pretty name indeed. "How about up there?" Tiffany asked, pointing to the roof of a small shed. Rowan nodded and the pair rushed over, Tiffany lifting Rowan by her feet and then allowing Rowan to pull her up. They both sat on the corrugated metal, looking down on the townsfolk walking about the street.
"So," Rowan said finally "I need you to show me."
"Show you?" Tiffany's cheeks were pink, but nowhere close to Rowan's.
Rowan nodded. "That you're a sandwitch."
"Okay." Tiffany screwed her eyes up in concentration and sat there motionless for a few moments. Rowan stared intently, waiting; what she didn't expect, however, was that Tiffany would lean in and give her a little peck on the cheek.
Blushing furiously, Rowan didn't know what to do. And yet, she didn't have to; as soon as Tiffany pulled back, the sky coursed with a flickering blue light and that's when the sand began to rain from above. It fell heavy and fast, the grit crushing and pushing into everything below.
Within minutes, the entire area was covered in the soft white dunes, looking very much as if it had always been that way.
"Order 16!" called a voice from behind the counter. Rowan looked up, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, to see a tall blonde man approaching. "That's you, right?"
Rowan looked down at her receipt. "Yeah, that's me."
"Perfect." The man looked at her strangely. "Your sandwitch will be out here shortly."
"I'm sure it'll be delicious," Rowan replied, though she looked concerned. "I was just wondering..."
"Yes?" the man asked, looking at her expectantly.
"What type of sandwich is it?" Rowan asked. "The menu didn't exactly say..."
"It's a sandwitch, ma'am," the man replied plainly. "There aren't really many different kinds." With that, he moseyed off towards the back of the store.
Sighing, Rowan adjusted herself on the stool and looked over her shoulder. There were a few folks sitting at tables, mostly looking inward towards the centre of the room. Towards Rowan, though they merely looked with a cautious curiosity. It wasn't often a new person came in and made an order, and certainly not one as young as Rowan.
"Alright," the man said, reappearing once more behind the counter. This time, however, someone much shorter was following close behind him, almost out of view. "Here is your sandwitch." Then, he stepped aside.
Behind him was a shorter girl, whose sandy-brown hair cupped her face and whose ruffled white shirt stood out against the deep brown of her skin. She looked to be about Rowan's age. "Hey," she said in a scratchy voice. "How's it going?"
"F-fine," Rowan stammered, her face growing red. She turned to the man. "What's going on? I thought I ordered a sandwich."
"A sandwitch, girl—mind the 'T'," he said. "This is what you ordered, this is what you paid for, and this is what you're getting."
Rowan raised an eyebrow, but looked back up at the menu. Sure enough, there were several oddities; in particular, she noted that the Gaelic names in the "Spirits" section likely weren't alcohol-related after all. "Ah, damn," she said. "I really need to start looking where I'm going."
"S-so you don't want me?" the sandy-haired girl stammered.
"Oh, no, I didn't say that!" Rowan exclaimed sympathetically, though her face was still a burning red. "Please, come with me, and let's hang out!"
"Are you sure?" the girl asked, biting her lip. "I don't want to be a burden if I'm not wanted."
"Nonsense," Rowan replied, reaching a hand forward. The sandy-haired girl glanced at the appendage for a moment before taking it in her own, and slowly Rowan helped her climb over the counter. Once they were both standing together, hands still clasped, they both walked out the doors, only smudging a small amount of grime with their shoulders as they walked past.
"Where do you wanna go?" Rowan asked. Her head darted back and forth as she spoke, looking out for any sufficient nook or cranny.
"Hmm..." the sandy-haired girl replied. According to her, she was named Tiffany—and Rowan thought that was a pretty name indeed. "How about up there?" Tiffany asked, pointing to the roof of a small shed. Rowan nodded and the pair rushed over, Tiffany lifting Rowan by her feet and then allowing Rowan to pull her up. They both sat on the corrugated metal, looking down on the townsfolk walking about the street.
"So," Rowan said finally "I need you to show me."
"Show you?" Tiffany's cheeks were pink, but nowhere close to Rowan's.
Rowan nodded. "That you're a sandwitch."
"Okay." Tiffany screwed her eyes up in concentration and sat there motionless for a few moments. Rowan stared intently, waiting; what she didn't expect, however, was that Tiffany would lean in and give her a little peck on the cheek.
Blushing furiously, Rowan didn't know what to do. And yet, she didn't have to; as soon as Tiffany pulled back, the sky coursed with a flickering blue light and that's when the sand began to rain from above. It fell heavy and fast, the grit crushing and pushing into everything below.
Within minutes, the entire area was covered in the soft white dunes, looking very much as if it had always been that way.
That's an oddly peculiar power. If Tiffany were to make out with someone, would sand keep falling nonstop?
Anyway, as much as I enjoyed the story--and believe me, I did. It was an endearing and cute tale--I feel somewhat cheated by the lack of resolution.
How does Rowan react to the sandstom? What is she going to do with Tiffany? How long does she have to stay with her? Will they roam the world as a supervillain duo, ruining the days of people at the beach?
I wished it would have gone for a little bit longer so we could have a better ending. As it stands, it seems incomplete. Sorry.
Anyway, as much as I enjoyed the story--and believe me, I did. It was an endearing and cute tale--I feel somewhat cheated by the lack of resolution.
How does Rowan react to the sandstom? What is she going to do with Tiffany? How long does she have to stay with her? Will they roam the world as a supervillain duo, ruining the days of people at the beach?
I wished it would have gone for a little bit longer so we could have a better ending. As it stands, it seems incomplete. Sorry.
There's a lot I'd like to know about this world.
Is ordering people in places that seem to be restaurants common here? Is anyone actually bothered by suddenly living in a desert, or did the sandfall kill everyone? Why does it take more than a few minutes to get her order ready?
I dunno. This is interesting, intriguing, and fairly original, and I can't help but read it as a continuation of "Where's My Sand, Witch?", but it doesn't really have a lot in the way of plot arc or resolution or theme.
It's a good start, but I think it needs more words before I'd really enjoy it.
Is ordering people in places that seem to be restaurants common here? Is anyone actually bothered by suddenly living in a desert, or did the sandfall kill everyone? Why does it take more than a few minutes to get her order ready?
I dunno. This is interesting, intriguing, and fairly original, and I can't help but read it as a continuation of "Where's My Sand, Witch?", but it doesn't really have a lot in the way of plot arc or resolution or theme.
It's a good start, but I think it needs more words before I'd really enjoy it.
I can’t say that the reinterpretation of the prompt as ‘sand witch’ is original, but the execution of this idea is interesting so far.
However, I’ll have to agree with Zaid (>>ZaidValRoa) above—it’s as if the story was abruptly cut off halfway through. I feel a bit cheated.
It would work wonders as a short story, though. Truly a shame this round isn’t one.
However, I’ll have to agree with Zaid (>>ZaidValRoa) above—it’s as if the story was abruptly cut off halfway through. I feel a bit cheated.
It would work wonders as a short story, though. Truly a shame this round isn’t one.
This is a very interesting hook, and made me want to read the story that it goes to. Unfortunately, as is, it's just the hook. There's a lot of curious and intriguing things I want to know more about, but learn none of them. Definitely feels unfinished in this form. Points for the Irish/Gaelic references, including (I imagine) Rowan being "little red one." I hope in whatever larger story this belongs to, that name is important.
Do we still not have a spoiler tag button? Alas, then I'll be open about my hunch that this is Oroboro's doing.
I'll echo the thoughts of others that this raises big questions about how this world works, what its culture looks like, etc. I don't think the ending gives us quite enough information to fill in enough blanks to get us to a true suspension of disbelief that all of this should be making sense.
Nevertheless, the picture painted by the story is quite vivid, and it manages to be emotionally evocative.
Tier: Almost There (but could be revised upward)
I'll echo the thoughts of others that this raises big questions about how this world works, what its culture looks like, etc. I don't think the ending gives us quite enough information to fill in enough blanks to get us to a true suspension of disbelief that all of this should be making sense.
Nevertheless, the picture painted by the story is quite vivid, and it manages to be emotionally evocative.
Tier: Almost There (but could be revised upward)
I'm enjoying the fics about sand witches (or variants thereof) so far. Granted, it's not an hugely original interpretation of the prompt at face value, but I think you can still do quite original things with it, and that's what counts...
... and I really liked the concept here, even if the execution didn't completely work for me. I'm a big fan of cute fluff, but even given that I struggled with the 0-100MPH blushing and nervous stammering and stuttering of Rowan and Tiffany. I fully appreciate the limitations of the round are working against you here, but it just felt too much too fast for me to really enjoy it.
As a scene of something larger I think I could become invested pretty quickly in this world of yours. As a minific however, and despite the above, it just didn't feel like it really went anywhere. Which is a shame; I hope you give some consideration to expanding this.
Thanks very much for sharing your work.
... and I really liked the concept here, even if the execution didn't completely work for me. I'm a big fan of cute fluff, but even given that I struggled with the 0-100MPH blushing and nervous stammering and stuttering of Rowan and Tiffany. I fully appreciate the limitations of the round are working against you here, but it just felt too much too fast for me to really enjoy it.
As a scene of something larger I think I could become invested pretty quickly in this world of yours. As a minific however, and despite the above, it just didn't feel like it really went anywhere. Which is a shame; I hope you give some consideration to expanding this.
Thanks very much for sharing your work.
