Author's Note: Uh. A little thing I wrote just then. Don't ask where it's from cause I have no idea. Let me just say, I love Christian's eyes. Anyway, Christian is a little mad as he always is in stuff I do and Satine...visits him.
Disclaimer: MR isn't mine. The song used is 'Dying Thoughts of an Atheist' by Muse who rock the box. I love muse.
Eerie whispers
Trapped beneath my pillow
You won't let me sleep
Your memories
I know you're in this room
I'm sure I heard you sigh
Floating in-between
Where our worlds collide
He can't sleep; the world of slumber is so foreign to him now. It's because...it's because he can hear her. Faint tremors of her whispers in his ears, in his head, in the room bouncing off the walls like rampant balls of energy just waiting to be consumed, or waiting to consume. He cannot sleep, he's too aware that if he falls asleep she might come and consume him, devour him, imprison him in the torment of his memories as revenge, as her revenge on him for not telling their story. He never thought she was the vengeful kind but he's sure, so sure, her heard her scream from out of the darkness from blood clotted lungs she suffers in damned death when he tossed the typewriter over the windowsill. He's certain he heard her violent breaths cross the boundary of the in between where the living and the dead world meet. He knows she's coming after him.
It scares the hell out of me
and the end is all I can see
and it scares the hell out of me
and the end is all I can see
Scared, terrified, traumatized, agonized. Curled up against the bedstead with sweaty sheets twisted around his body, he is waiting. He thinks she'll come in a demonic form, hair a blaze of flames, lips painted in blood, fingers curled into claws sharp enough to tear drawings into the skin with sadistic strokes. The fateful end is all that is there for him now, he broke a promise and now he must accept the consequence. So he waits, scared, terrified, traumatized, agonized and yet he wishes she would hurry.
I know the moments near
and there's nothing we can do
Look through a faithless eye
Are you afraid to die?
Stormy nights come in volleys. It's a sign, he believes, that she's getting closer. He locks his windows and draws the blinds to sit in the darkness of his room, hidden he thinks. But there's nothing he can do to stop his vengeful lover, he dresses himself in his best clothing and tries to scrawl a farewell note on a scrap piece of paper for the painter upstairs. But as he drinks green liquid and looks through the dishonest eyes of the faerie his insides become pent up and he screams for mercy, wails at the thought of death and as the rain pounds harder on the grimy windows he thinks he can see the lightening turning red as she finally arrives.
It scares the hell out of me
and the end is all I can see
and it scares the hell out of me
and the end is all I can see
Finally, he sleeps. Come morning he doesn't wake, the storm clouds stay gathered over the sky so the transition between night and day is hardly noticeable. He shivers and shakes in dreams, then smiles and almost cries in his sleep. When the lids of his blackened eyes open, he can see the pale light of gloomy afternoon that fills his room and wonders how he has come from a dream of colour to a reality of shades of grey. His vengeful lover, long since dead, enraptured him in memories of past times and played him songs he had long since forgotten, the replaying of a tumultuous love affair from fateful beginning to unjust end. She reminded him of all the things he had been so scared of remembering and freed him from those memories to wake again as he had feared she would not. What he thought was the end, was only the intermission.
Out the window he glances to see a typewriter still lying smashed to bits on the road below, so he picks up a pen and curves letters with his hands instead.
Okay. Put your hand up if you thought I turned Satine evil and I will have to crash tackle you. Me, turn Satine evil, hah! Madness I say!