Title: Our Rapture
Author: Emo Barbie
Rating: T
Pairing: N/A
Fandom: Bioshock/Bioshock 2
Summary: A collection of events from the point of view of the Citizens of Rapture
Extra: These are all short little stories brought on by actual bodies, events and Actual splicers I saw while I was playing Bioshock and Bioshock 2! Hope you like! ^^
Funeral Home: Dead Male under Desk
For Just a moment
In Rapture it's hard to tell whether it's night or day, simply by looking out a window. The only sense of time we hold is the clocks that tick our lives away down here, and whether those clocks tick with the surface time is hard to say. But that does not matter, for we are our own world, we do not need to know what time of day those surface dwellers follow, we are a world separate from everything else. A world that follows no rule but it's own, a world that does not need to be compared with any other. Our own world were we say what is just and what is unjust, what is right and wrong, and whether you are a criminal or a good doer...but maybe...it is this exact reason that our Rapture has started to crack...to shatter.
The Funeral home has been packed as of late, countless bodies, women, men...children, they've all been filing in, one after the other. Baby's strangled in cribs, these little girls that keep coming in are a common sight. And it's quite sad to see it, how someone could murder such innocent beings, these little children who never stood a chance. Murders have become as common as breathing, madness is now our normal. Normal is now our madness. Everything has fallen to hell and further...maybe that's why I've stuffed myself beneath this desk...but, no matter how long I hide and no matter how much or how long I close my eyes. I can still hear the cries, the screams, the madness...of Rapture.
What are they going to do without a funeral home director? No one else is sane enough to set up these events...no one is capable of such tender actions any longer...bodies are just going to start to litter rapture...littering rapture like the trash they have become...like the trash they are. I no longer wish to be here, but there is no escape from Rapture anymore...Ryan has seen to that. So I've found an alternative...staying here...hidden away under this desk...this desk where I used to spend most of my days, a desk that I used to wish to get away from; now my only sanctuary. I used to work at this desk, dull work of scheduling funeral dates and body deliveries, where I couldn't wait to get away from these morbid people...now I miss that. I would give anything for that time back, to be able to smile and tell someone it was going to be okay, where someone actually cared about the death and cried. Now no one cares. It's a body dump to prepare for a Funeral no one bothers to come to. There's still the odd mother who mourns her children, the occasional husband who mourns his wife, but people have moved on with their lives, people no longer care about anyone but themselves...and I miss the people that did. I miss those who used to pay attention to me, to talk to me...now I'm just invisible...hidden under this desk...I'm invisible to this mad world, all but completely forgotten...but even so, just for a moment...just a moment, at peace once again.
Review and READ PlZ! 8D
