A couple of free-write drablets.

[Sharl]

Theatre
The theater lazed in her position in the shopping center (well, it was a strip mall, really, but she always thought shopping center. Had to keep up appearances, after all), warming her bricks in the glow of the late-afternoon sun. Around her, people scurried in, out, and all around, going about the minutiae of their daily lives. The shops around her in the center scoffed at her, saying that, since she served no more concrete and lasting a purpose to the people that thronged her than an hour or two of entertainment, she was little more than a different sort of whorehouse... but she knew differently. The people came out of love, whether they knew it or not. They came to see the ones they worshipped, to be released for a while from the humdrum of their lives, to be transported to different worlds. The shops around her, with their bright displays and material goods, thought it was prostitution, but she knew better. What the people gave her and the images displayed within her was worship, and she... she was a temple.

A Strange Day in the Astronaut Afterlife: Or, A Tribute to Spacebat
The crews of Apollo 1, Challenger, and Columbia, among others, are swapping stories in the afterlife. Laika's crashed out in Ilan Ramon's lap and he's scratching her behind the ears as he chats with Gus Grissom and Yuri Gagarin. Gordo the spider monkey is perched on Christa McAuliffe's shoulder, and every so often she hands him a grape. Suddenly there's a chitter and a frantic flapping, and all of a sudden a little brown bat, looking very startled, lands on the table. Gordo hops over to check him out before going back to cadge more grapes, Laika lifts her head and sniffs him, wagging her tail once or twice in acceptance, then goes back to sleep, and Laurel Clark strokes his little back gently with a finger, lifts him onto her shoulder, and smiles.[/i]