Disclaimer: I bet no one's surprised I don't own Harry Potter. I know I'm not. Just a little disappointed.
A/N: It is a well known fact that I am trash. Hence why I'm starting this fic without finishing any of my others. I also have no idea where this'll be going, and will likely be writing it in very short, drabble-style chapters.
(This will be double-posted on AO3 too, under the same title/pseudonym)
...
Splinters
1
...
He steps onto the train, with the skinless monster wailing in his arms. It's blood oozes out of open, convulsing arteries like tar, tracking down his bare arms, over the flat lines of his stomach, along the curves of his thighs until it reaches the floor. It gathers in a puddle at his feet.
The doors close with a click, and they are alone in the compartment. The monster's mouth gapes, and he watches as the raw cries gurgle, breathless, in the red hole of its throat. It is silenced.
The engine hums below them, behind them.
Louder. It growls.
Louder. It snarls.
Louder. It roars.
He opens his mouth too, breathes in like it's his first ever breath. Tastes rust and salt. Grave dirt and rain.
The train moves. Picks up speed, until the force of it has him leaning into every curve on the track, has him staring, unblinking, into the white abyss beyond the windows.
The monster shudders, nail-less, naked finger stubs grappling at his chest like it's trying to reach inside and get hold of his heart. Like a newborn clutching at it's mother's breast.
For minutes, for days, for years the train moves onwards, forwards, never stopping and never slowing.
Until, finally, it does.
The doors open.
Harry Potter does not step out again;
instead
he
falls—
and the monster falls with him
