And He Screams
by Natalia Carter
Quiet. Finally.
Alone, in the darkness. He kneels by the bed, head drooping in exhaustion. His limbs tremble from time to time with the remains of terror. He reeks of fear, and it drives him insane.
He never knew, never anticipated that it would be so hard. Never thought he would break out in a cold sweat at the very sight of his old master. Never imagined that after so many years, he would still fear.
He needs. It is an indistinct need, a general need. He couldn't pinpoint, if asked, exactly what he needs. He is tormented by a general feeling of incompletion. Of sadness.
And of fear. Always of fear. He shudders as it rises up in him again, filling his throat, displacing his stomach. In a life where everything is so very under control, the fear is all the more paralyzing because it is out of his control. He cannot tell the fear what to do. He can't give detention to terror.
He moans quietly, hands clenching into fists as he struggles. His entire body trembles beneath his robes. His breath comes in short, uneven gasps. Terror swells up inside him, threatening to take him over. He fumbles for his wand, desperate for light--suddenly, the darkness he craved only moments before is disgusting, terrifying.
"Lumos," he whispers, his voice shaking, and his wand lights, providing the illumination he so desperately wants. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shadow in the corner. It moves.
And he screams.
by Natalia Carter
Quiet. Finally.
Alone, in the darkness. He kneels by the bed, head drooping in exhaustion. His limbs tremble from time to time with the remains of terror. He reeks of fear, and it drives him insane.
He never knew, never anticipated that it would be so hard. Never thought he would break out in a cold sweat at the very sight of his old master. Never imagined that after so many years, he would still fear.
He needs. It is an indistinct need, a general need. He couldn't pinpoint, if asked, exactly what he needs. He is tormented by a general feeling of incompletion. Of sadness.
And of fear. Always of fear. He shudders as it rises up in him again, filling his throat, displacing his stomach. In a life where everything is so very under control, the fear is all the more paralyzing because it is out of his control. He cannot tell the fear what to do. He can't give detention to terror.
He moans quietly, hands clenching into fists as he struggles. His entire body trembles beneath his robes. His breath comes in short, uneven gasps. Terror swells up inside him, threatening to take him over. He fumbles for his wand, desperate for light--suddenly, the darkness he craved only moments before is disgusting, terrifying.
"Lumos," he whispers, his voice shaking, and his wand lights, providing the illumination he so desperately wants. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shadow in the corner. It moves.
And he screams.