Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognizable as someone else's.
Author's Note: Yes, I know I should be working on Angst Fest and CBTE and Hey Baby and Estel and all the others but this blindsided me. On the up side, this is completely finished so there won't be month long waits between updates. YAY!! Thanks to Mandi for beta'ing, you're the bestest!!
This is pretty much unlike anything I've done before but oh well. Hope you enjoy it just the same and remember, feedback is a girls' best friend!
It was dark...
It was dark. The air was thick with a choking, whispering fear. Nameless tendrils seemed to snake into his body, inflaming all his senses with a searing, scarring flame.
He hardly noticed at first. It was simply a twinge, a slithering shiver up the back of his neck, making the short, baby-fine hair rise as goose bumps rose from his skin. But it grew, grew until he could hardly move, could hardly breathe.
It hurt, this invasion of his heart, self, soul. It brought him to his knees, made him cringe, He attempted to scream...but no sound would escape his bloody throat save some awful gurgling noise.
Finger nails, sharp like claws, seemed to scrape down his aching throat, making sure he could not cry for help, though nothing save the shadows could be seen about him.
He tried to whimper, clutched and clawed at his head, thrashed with his body to try to twist away from the thirsty, invisible demons. They would not be fought. They evaded his attack and drove relentlessly into him, polluting his every heartbeat. He tried to fight... He didn't want this.
It was dark, a blackened torched night made for evil, for dark deeds not to be spoken of. He lay there, on the frost-tinged ground twitching. His strength, what he thought had been so formidable, was sapped from his failing body. The battle was lost, but some strange feeling once called hope...courage...stubbornness...still flowed through him,
keeping the fight's heartbeat pulsing though is was pitifully thin, thready and weak. It was going out...
It hurt, laying there prone to this invasion, vulnerable and helpless against the attack perverting his soul. He could not resist, could not win. He was already dead. He just refused to admit it.
He tried to whimper as he felt the last of his life beat out of him, as surely as if his blood was spilling on the pavement. He tried to alert someone, anyone of his demise, his corruption. No sound escaped him. No help would come. He was alone. Alone to die, and to be reborn...
It was dark that night, the night Tommy rose as one of them.
Author's Note: Yes, I know I should be working on Angst Fest and CBTE and Hey Baby and Estel and all the others but this blindsided me. On the up side, this is completely finished so there won't be month long waits between updates. YAY!! Thanks to Mandi for beta'ing, you're the bestest!!
This is pretty much unlike anything I've done before but oh well. Hope you enjoy it just the same and remember, feedback is a girls' best friend!
It was dark...
It was dark. The air was thick with a choking, whispering fear. Nameless tendrils seemed to snake into his body, inflaming all his senses with a searing, scarring flame.
He hardly noticed at first. It was simply a twinge, a slithering shiver up the back of his neck, making the short, baby-fine hair rise as goose bumps rose from his skin. But it grew, grew until he could hardly move, could hardly breathe.
It hurt, this invasion of his heart, self, soul. It brought him to his knees, made him cringe, He attempted to scream...but no sound would escape his bloody throat save some awful gurgling noise.
Finger nails, sharp like claws, seemed to scrape down his aching throat, making sure he could not cry for help, though nothing save the shadows could be seen about him.
He tried to whimper, clutched and clawed at his head, thrashed with his body to try to twist away from the thirsty, invisible demons. They would not be fought. They evaded his attack and drove relentlessly into him, polluting his every heartbeat. He tried to fight... He didn't want this.
It was dark, a blackened torched night made for evil, for dark deeds not to be spoken of. He lay there, on the frost-tinged ground twitching. His strength, what he thought had been so formidable, was sapped from his failing body. The battle was lost, but some strange feeling once called hope...courage...stubbornness...still flowed through him,
keeping the fight's heartbeat pulsing though is was pitifully thin, thready and weak. It was going out...
It hurt, laying there prone to this invasion, vulnerable and helpless against the attack perverting his soul. He could not resist, could not win. He was already dead. He just refused to admit it.
He tried to whimper as he felt the last of his life beat out of him, as surely as if his blood was spilling on the pavement. He tried to alert someone, anyone of his demise, his corruption. No sound escaped him. No help would come. He was alone. Alone to die, and to be reborn...
It was dark that night, the night Tommy rose as one of them.