I don't own anything. I'm slowly in the process of going through the whole collection of drabbles and giving them some tweaks, hopefully resulting in better writing and improved grammar! CC would be nice!
REVISED-
The brakes screeched, protesting to stop as the ice on the ancient track served as a severe hindrance, eventually the train ground to a halt, stopping in front of a large abandoned platform.
Scattered street lamps dimly illuminated the figures of the very few passengers which had bravely disembarked from the train. The crunch of their dull foot falls on the freshly fallen snow bounced of the crumbling brick, echoing through the high arches and walls of the station, casting a eerie sound about the old structure.
A plump controller slipped a hand into the pocket by his lapel, withdrawing a old brass watch; weary eyes squinted to connect with the ancient scratched glass of the faithful time piece. His expression hardened as he watched one hand click into place upon the hour. Securing the watch back into his pocket he took out a long silver whistle, contemplating for a second before placing it to his lips and letting it scream out across the platform.
The train gathered life, heaving and chuffing as it forced onwards. Blackened smoke towered high above elegant carriages. Inside them, chandeliers tinkled chilling tunes to accompany the pained roar of the straining engine.
One of the lesser ornate carriages held a youth, who lay asleep, undisturbed by the trains efforts. The boy was comfortably situated in a corner seat, his head nestled on the shoulder of a man.
The said man was tall, well built and well dressed, he looked out of place in his suit as he sat next to the small, scrawny and scruffily dressed boy. Raising a hand to his cheek, the man ran a nail over the uneven line of flesh which curved from his mouth. Scratching at the permanent smirk creating scar, his emerald green eyes wondered down to look over the slumbering teen.
His lips twitched into a soft smile as he watched his assistant dream. He considered what his treasured student was seeing behind his closed, flickering eye lids, scenes from the recent past?
Sighing, he ran his fingers through the teens unruly hair, in a attempt to sooth his student and chase away the distressing images which plagued his sleep, knowing that he was partly responsible for the nightmares which were based around the teens new, unwelcomed life. And yet, if Larten could turn back the clocks, if he were Desmond Tiny, he wouldn't alter a thing.
Darren was his beloved, and that would never change.
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Y x