Everything is Quiet Except for the Screaming
Summary: There he runs, in his little nightmare land. What's he running from? Who knows. Extremely short Jericho fic, dedicated to AllPraiseb2HIM.
AN/ Please read and review, I worked very hard on this.
Joseph (or Jericho, as he was known by his friends) always ran the exact same way, one foot right in front of the other, panting frantically. He leaped to try to run faster, but his big boot hit on a rock and caused him to fall down. It always was the same.
He could hear screams floating on the wind and cutting through the darkness.
He could hear. But he couldn't see. How he longed to call out to someone or other, but he could not. So he just got back up and felt his feet pound on the ground once more, again and again. It was so painstakingly real, as he finally saw something: blood painted across the sky and bones on the ground. He felt words choke before they could start, before they could ever start. His breaths came again and again frantically, and he wondered what he was running from.
What was he running from?
He would have no luck with trying to run away from everything, that was what his mother always said. He just always had to stand right up and fight for his life, for his rights, for his needs, for his loves, for everything.
But how could he fight an attacker with no face?
How could he? He still wondered, feeling his eyes water, and everything felt too real for him. Far too real for him.
He wondered why he ran, why he didn't just stop and let the darkness consume him, take him away. Somewhere nicer, somewhere where the lands weren't tainted and where darkness did not rule.
He felt nothing. He saw lightning in the distance, and everything he never wanted to see.
Cities-in ruins.
Towns-destroyed.
People-suffering.
Swords-covered and covered in blood and blood and more blood.
He tried to scream, to do something, but he couldn't.
So he just kept running, hoping that sometime he could just stop.
But he couldn't.
Why?
He was trying to, he was trying to fight, trying to beat whatever invisible menace he had chasing him.
He tried.
But he couldn't stop, he didn't even have that much endurance. He didn't. Shining drops of redness fell from the heavens, drops he could not feel, rolling down his face and onto his clothes.
He stumbled again and again, trying to run away from everything bad.
But he couldn't and he never could.
He just wanted to wake up.