Yes, ladies and gentlemen, thats really the title.
This is my FIRST EVER EENE FIC!! Slash or otherwise!!!
*kazoos sound in background*
This IS Johnny/Plank, so im warning you now in case
this is a personal squicky for anyone...
oh jeez, what am i saying.....WHAT list am i posting
this on now?
nevermind, i didnt say anything. ^_^;;
Just read the story:
________________________
Title: I am a sick demented freak for writing this.
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes. seriously.
Pairing: Johnny/Plank
date finished: jan/08/02
archived: eene slash list, anywhere else please email
me.
warnings: character death. sorry guys...
A/N: thanks to speccy(kitty) for the beta. ^_^
*
Open-toed leather sandals slapped against the pavement
of the cul-de-sac, and the boy who wore them ran with
them, his breath coming in sharp, harsh gasps. His
arms and wrists were stained wetly with red, and the
tingling sensation that pervaded them turned to an
acute stinging as he ducked behind a tree to assess
the damage.
His friend had come with him, in his frenzied exodus
from the bathroom of his house.
'You'll get the firing squad, boy,' whispered his
companion.
"Be quiet!" he hissed back sharply. "Do you think
anyone saw us?" Turning, the boy tried to shroud
himself behind the skinny trunk of his hiding place.
'They'll get you, Johnny-boy. They'll get you.'
He felt tears sting at his eyes and gather between his
lashes. The words were true, horribly true, and Johnny
knew it. The blood on his fingers was still wet, and
it rubbed off on the stout plank of wood he clutched.
"Now, don't you be like that, grumpy..," the boy
warned. Not that he could ever hurt his friend....
'Now, now, don't kid yourself, John-John," his friend
said. 'Your mother told you to never hurt anyone, or
anything. She said--"
"STOP IT NOW!" Johnny snapped, but then recoiled,
instantly berating himself. Don't yell at your
friend, don't ever yell, don't ever get mad, he
chanted inside his mind. Get mad and he'll leave. Get
mad and....he'll leave... His arms stung, right down
to the palms of his hands, and a weak feeling bloomed
in the bottom of his stomach.
Three year old crayon eyes and a chipped, painted
mouth stared up at Johnny silently. Smiling. Always
smiling. His friend was never sad, always happy. His
anger dissipated when faced with his friend's
optimism. Childhood friends, they had never been
apart; when the other kids taunted him, left him out
of their games, ignored him, his friend would be there
to comfort him and keep him company.
Guilt tugged at his heart. Was he wrong in making his
friend come with him, in making him witness what
Johnny logically thought would happen soon?
"Awww... I'm sorry, buddy..." The weakness in the pit
of his stomach had spread to his chest and shoulders,
and he clutched his friend close to his chest, curled
up on the ground now.
"Talk to me, Plank," the young boy said softly. "Tell
me a story, like you do when I have a nightmare..."
But his friend was silent. Johnny pleaded, becoming
panicked as the silence around him grew; the world
around him was staying too still. He needed to hear
his friend's voice right now, silence was why he'd
done this in the first place.....
If he lived, he knew he'd be in trouble. They would
find out what he'd done to himself. Plank was right,
his mother had always told him that jail was for
people who hurt others or themselves, and Johnny had
hurt himself. He would be put in the shady, damp cell
his mother so often described, with men who would hurt
*him*....Over....and over.....and over.....
Such silence. There wasn't a word to describe the
disturbing absence of any sound, like the still before
a horrible storm. It reminded him of the Closet. The
closet was so still and black inside, and his mother
had taken his friend away that day, and stuck him
there, alone, for the whole afternoon. Shuddering,
Johnny pushed the memory away, and refocused on Plank.
"Please, Plank.....buddy....." His voice cracked as
desperation and terror set in, and he realized with
cold certainty the finality of his actions.
Breath coming shallow and swift, he used his last
weapon to get his friend to comfort him; he pressed
his lips to the slightly curved mouth on the piece of
wood, begging it to talk to him.
Finally, sharply and quietly, he heard, 'Go to sleep,
boy.'
As black fog sneaked up from behind him, and his
vision started getting hazy, he used his last
remaining strength to plant soft kisses all over his
friend's face, and mouth, and unblinking eyes. The
eyes that saw everything his mother did, now had to
see this.....poor Plank.....Johnny only hoped Plank
would forgive him for abandoning him...and would keep
his secret.
Lidless, crayon-drawn eyes watched the dimming human
pair in front of them close. Plank kept close vigil on
the sky above for the rest of the night; it had been
dropped, face up, onto the ground from cold, dead
hands.
____________________
so.....*kicks sand and coughs nervously*
that's it....whatcha think? Please send a review??
This is my FIRST EVER EENE FIC!! Slash or otherwise!!!
*kazoos sound in background*
This IS Johnny/Plank, so im warning you now in case
this is a personal squicky for anyone...
oh jeez, what am i saying.....WHAT list am i posting
this on now?
nevermind, i didnt say anything. ^_^;;
Just read the story:
________________________
Title: I am a sick demented freak for writing this.
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes. seriously.
Pairing: Johnny/Plank
date finished: jan/08/02
archived: eene slash list, anywhere else please email
me.
warnings: character death. sorry guys...
A/N: thanks to speccy(kitty) for the beta. ^_^
*
Open-toed leather sandals slapped against the pavement
of the cul-de-sac, and the boy who wore them ran with
them, his breath coming in sharp, harsh gasps. His
arms and wrists were stained wetly with red, and the
tingling sensation that pervaded them turned to an
acute stinging as he ducked behind a tree to assess
the damage.
His friend had come with him, in his frenzied exodus
from the bathroom of his house.
'You'll get the firing squad, boy,' whispered his
companion.
"Be quiet!" he hissed back sharply. "Do you think
anyone saw us?" Turning, the boy tried to shroud
himself behind the skinny trunk of his hiding place.
'They'll get you, Johnny-boy. They'll get you.'
He felt tears sting at his eyes and gather between his
lashes. The words were true, horribly true, and Johnny
knew it. The blood on his fingers was still wet, and
it rubbed off on the stout plank of wood he clutched.
"Now, don't you be like that, grumpy..," the boy
warned. Not that he could ever hurt his friend....
'Now, now, don't kid yourself, John-John," his friend
said. 'Your mother told you to never hurt anyone, or
anything. She said--"
"STOP IT NOW!" Johnny snapped, but then recoiled,
instantly berating himself. Don't yell at your
friend, don't ever yell, don't ever get mad, he
chanted inside his mind. Get mad and he'll leave. Get
mad and....he'll leave... His arms stung, right down
to the palms of his hands, and a weak feeling bloomed
in the bottom of his stomach.
Three year old crayon eyes and a chipped, painted
mouth stared up at Johnny silently. Smiling. Always
smiling. His friend was never sad, always happy. His
anger dissipated when faced with his friend's
optimism. Childhood friends, they had never been
apart; when the other kids taunted him, left him out
of their games, ignored him, his friend would be there
to comfort him and keep him company.
Guilt tugged at his heart. Was he wrong in making his
friend come with him, in making him witness what
Johnny logically thought would happen soon?
"Awww... I'm sorry, buddy..." The weakness in the pit
of his stomach had spread to his chest and shoulders,
and he clutched his friend close to his chest, curled
up on the ground now.
"Talk to me, Plank," the young boy said softly. "Tell
me a story, like you do when I have a nightmare..."
But his friend was silent. Johnny pleaded, becoming
panicked as the silence around him grew; the world
around him was staying too still. He needed to hear
his friend's voice right now, silence was why he'd
done this in the first place.....
If he lived, he knew he'd be in trouble. They would
find out what he'd done to himself. Plank was right,
his mother had always told him that jail was for
people who hurt others or themselves, and Johnny had
hurt himself. He would be put in the shady, damp cell
his mother so often described, with men who would hurt
*him*....Over....and over.....and over.....
Such silence. There wasn't a word to describe the
disturbing absence of any sound, like the still before
a horrible storm. It reminded him of the Closet. The
closet was so still and black inside, and his mother
had taken his friend away that day, and stuck him
there, alone, for the whole afternoon. Shuddering,
Johnny pushed the memory away, and refocused on Plank.
"Please, Plank.....buddy....." His voice cracked as
desperation and terror set in, and he realized with
cold certainty the finality of his actions.
Breath coming shallow and swift, he used his last
weapon to get his friend to comfort him; he pressed
his lips to the slightly curved mouth on the piece of
wood, begging it to talk to him.
Finally, sharply and quietly, he heard, 'Go to sleep,
boy.'
As black fog sneaked up from behind him, and his
vision started getting hazy, he used his last
remaining strength to plant soft kisses all over his
friend's face, and mouth, and unblinking eyes. The
eyes that saw everything his mother did, now had to
see this.....poor Plank.....Johnny only hoped Plank
would forgive him for abandoning him...and would keep
his secret.
Lidless, crayon-drawn eyes watched the dimming human
pair in front of them close. Plank kept close vigil on
the sky above for the rest of the night; it had been
dropped, face up, onto the ground from cold, dead
hands.
____________________
so.....*kicks sand and coughs nervously*
that's it....whatcha think? Please send a review??