Disclaimer: I dont own LOTF
R.I.P
"I hope that real love and truth
are stronger in the end than any
evil or misfortune in the world."
-Charles Dickens
Jack: *Sobs*
Roger: That's what your putting on her headstone, Kannibal?
-Yeah...I thought that'd be best...
Jack: Wahhhhhh!
-I'm sorry Jack...
Jack: I'm going to kill myself...
The trip back to the beach was taking longer because of the storm. The rain pooled in the low earth, leaving mud puddles everywhere. Jack plodded through the mess, grasping tightly on to your hand.
"It's getting deeper." He comments with caution in his tone.
You become wary of your surrounds, scanning the sludge carefully. Looking to the left, something snags your focus-a damp hump on the surface. The liquid bubbles and fills in a little more, creating a desperate gurgling noise. The object is tangled by a shirt and the mud around it slides in more.
'Is that…a body?' You blink rapidly in shock.
The body submerges with the same watery croak. Your words catch in your throat,
"There's a…a…!" You manage before trotting in the direction of the body.
As Jack tries to follow, your knees fight against the mass of debris. Without warning, the loose earth sucks you in waist deep. Your feet suckle into the mud,
"W-wait! (Your Name)!" Jack cries out as you are pulled down into the tomb.
Something rough, maybe a log, hits your foot and you stand up on it. The object is pulled into your torso but when you roll it over…
Hiss…
A black length recoils into your neck to attack. The voice behind you screams out and you jolt in protest, but the snake penetrates the spot. A violent clip sears the skin, making you writhe in agony. A new warm and sticky fluid leaks from its mouth. The blood drips and swirls into the brown film, a mixture of blood, sweat, and spit.
Just as you clutch the snake to yank it free; hot venom is pumped into your blood. Your arms splash against the slush in a slurping panic. You can feel the excruciating pain now, like glass scraping the marrow of your bones.
More blood dances on the surface, wispy like pieces of crimson silk.
The fire buzzes across your muscles as it spreads, rushing the blood cells. A wrenching sound of your tissues stretching fills your ears.
Or is that the water leaking in as your head tips backwards?
In seconds, the support of the log is broken and your numbing legs slip off. The disturbance causes the top layer of mud to falter, tugging you down again.
But Jack is close; trying to pull you out now. However, the murky substance is too slippery. Even when he gets a grip, your limbs start to make involuntary jerks and spasms.
You're sucked down until the liquid spills into your parted lips.
Someone yanks you up by the hair, a frantic attempt to keep your head above the water. The painful tug causes you to gasp, but no air enters. The same sickly gurgle makes you choke.
The muck crawls across your tongue, running into your mouth. It tastes of earth, dirt and tears. Even as it trickles into the shell of your lungs, it feels unpleasantly sharp and bitter.
Your body temperature rises, flushing your face and clenching your throat. Your vision has blurred and faded a long time ago. Did you even notice?
Everything is black, silent, and sour.
The muddy tomb would soon fill and settle. The film would be placid as your body goes inert-leaving you…
utterly forgotten.
((...))
"What's done can't be undone."
-Shakespeare