~*~Disclaimer=me no own~*~Hmm, dunno why I wrote this-think I was bored-
Enjoy! Oh and the poem is by my best friend so please don't use it without
her permission~*~
*He stood there in darkness, feeling its clammy fingers envelop him, swallowing him whole and all he did was stand there as a voice echoed round his head sounding like his own:
People are talking,
Their words make no sense,
My head is surrounded
By a high fence.
Fear upon fear,
Doubt upon doubt.
But the creatures are crawling
So I can't get out.
If the creatures could stop
Then I'd be let go
But I'll stop it up
Mustn't let the tears flow
Nothings going out
It's just staying in
As agony crawls
Inside of my skin.
There's no hope for me
I'm too full of dread.
Trapped in a prison
Inside of my head
Can't get out of my head,
My mind deep in thought.
Didn't know the pain that
One person has brought.
I'm full of hate
Grief and despair
They think they know me
They don't even care
Fear upon fear,
Doubt upon doubt,
'Cause the creatures are crawling
So I can't get out.
The darkness cleared and he could see the body of a man on the ground, arms slit from elbow to wrist. His face contorted. Blood flowing freely across Malcolm's feet, his hands stained red and all he could do was stare, feeling the deep agonising screams pounding within his chest.*
Archer wandered absentmindedly round the deck Porthos at his side. He was deep in thought and was enjoying the peace that filled the deck. He hadn't seen many people but he hadn't expected too. The night shift was notoriously boring.
Porthos padded alongside him, being unusually quiet knowing that people were probably sleeping somewhere nearby.
A small noise brought him from his thoughts. He looked to see where it might be coming from but was met by grey doors and grey walls.
All of a sudden a volley of screams rang through the deck. The pain and utter fear that echoed within them sent shivers down his spine. He realised someone must be having a nightmare. The source of the screams seemed to be coming from a door near the end of the corridor. Archer realised that it was Malcolm's quarters. All down the corridor doors were opening to see what the commotion was.
"Go back to bed-I'll sort this," he told them.
They nodded sleepily and retreated to the comfort of their beds.
Archer used his authorisation code to get into Malcolm's quarters.
He was obviously in great distress, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, screams still falling from his lips, quilt cover scrunched up in a ball.
"Malcolm, wake up," Archer urged shaking his shoulder.
Malcolm woke up and immediately stuck out, hitting Archer to the ground.
"Captain? I'm so sorry!"
"Forget it Malcolm," said Archer, wincing as he touched his eye.
Realisation dawned on Malcolm.
"Why are you here sir? Am I needed on the bridge?" Malcolm asked looking confused, seemingly unaware his eyes were all red and puffy with tear stains down his cheeks or that he still had his quilt in a vice grip.
"You were screaming in your sleep," Archer told him, sitting down. "Must've been one hell of a nightmare."
Malcolm blushed.
Archer wanted to stay and talk it out with Malcolm but from previous experience he knew Malcolm would keep silent and keep saying he was fine. He didn't particularly want him to order to tell him.
"I didn't realise, I'm sorry," he apologised sounding slightly flustered.
"Don't worry about it," said Archer.
There was an uneasy pause, where Malcolm stared at his quilt avoiding Archer's searching gaze.
"Do you have many nightmares?" Archer asked, deciding not to tiptoe round it.
"No sir."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not particularly sir."
"Ok, well you know where I am if you want to talk. Pleasant dreams Malcolm."
"Good night sir."
Malcolm watched Archer leave his small dog in tow and heaved a sigh of relief. He dragged himself up from his bed and peered at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
He hadn't had that dream in a long time.
'Fear upon fear, doubt upon doubt.........'
He thought briefly what had brought it on. It'd been years and years since he had read that poem, seen the body lying beside it and yet he could still see it fresh it in his mind as though it happened only moments ago.
He'd been embarrassed that Archer had found him and even more horrified that he'd hit him as he woke.
He splashed cold water on his face and returned to his bed. He found the book he'd been reading and picked up where he left off.
But the poem kept surfacing in his head and guilty feelings emerged. He should've noticed that man was unhappy, he should've done something, but he hadn't and the man had taken his own life.
He should've noticed his brother was unhappy, he should've tried to help him but he didn't. He didn't. If he could go back and change it he would. But the only son his father truly loved took his own life leaving only the poem behind.
He'd spent his whole life knowing that his father thought he should've died instead of his brother.
*Fear upon fear,
Doubt upon doubt,
'Cause the creatures are crawling,
So I can't get out.*
He sighed and closed his book. After all these years he still didn't know why his brother did it. But all he knew was it'd haunt his dreams for the rest of his life because he just couldn't let go.
~*~Please review, I know slightly dodgy and morbid but tell me your thoughts-they always help!~*~
*He stood there in darkness, feeling its clammy fingers envelop him, swallowing him whole and all he did was stand there as a voice echoed round his head sounding like his own:
People are talking,
Their words make no sense,
My head is surrounded
By a high fence.
Fear upon fear,
Doubt upon doubt.
But the creatures are crawling
So I can't get out.
If the creatures could stop
Then I'd be let go
But I'll stop it up
Mustn't let the tears flow
Nothings going out
It's just staying in
As agony crawls
Inside of my skin.
There's no hope for me
I'm too full of dread.
Trapped in a prison
Inside of my head
Can't get out of my head,
My mind deep in thought.
Didn't know the pain that
One person has brought.
I'm full of hate
Grief and despair
They think they know me
They don't even care
Fear upon fear,
Doubt upon doubt,
'Cause the creatures are crawling
So I can't get out.
The darkness cleared and he could see the body of a man on the ground, arms slit from elbow to wrist. His face contorted. Blood flowing freely across Malcolm's feet, his hands stained red and all he could do was stare, feeling the deep agonising screams pounding within his chest.*
Archer wandered absentmindedly round the deck Porthos at his side. He was deep in thought and was enjoying the peace that filled the deck. He hadn't seen many people but he hadn't expected too. The night shift was notoriously boring.
Porthos padded alongside him, being unusually quiet knowing that people were probably sleeping somewhere nearby.
A small noise brought him from his thoughts. He looked to see where it might be coming from but was met by grey doors and grey walls.
All of a sudden a volley of screams rang through the deck. The pain and utter fear that echoed within them sent shivers down his spine. He realised someone must be having a nightmare. The source of the screams seemed to be coming from a door near the end of the corridor. Archer realised that it was Malcolm's quarters. All down the corridor doors were opening to see what the commotion was.
"Go back to bed-I'll sort this," he told them.
They nodded sleepily and retreated to the comfort of their beds.
Archer used his authorisation code to get into Malcolm's quarters.
He was obviously in great distress, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, screams still falling from his lips, quilt cover scrunched up in a ball.
"Malcolm, wake up," Archer urged shaking his shoulder.
Malcolm woke up and immediately stuck out, hitting Archer to the ground.
"Captain? I'm so sorry!"
"Forget it Malcolm," said Archer, wincing as he touched his eye.
Realisation dawned on Malcolm.
"Why are you here sir? Am I needed on the bridge?" Malcolm asked looking confused, seemingly unaware his eyes were all red and puffy with tear stains down his cheeks or that he still had his quilt in a vice grip.
"You were screaming in your sleep," Archer told him, sitting down. "Must've been one hell of a nightmare."
Malcolm blushed.
Archer wanted to stay and talk it out with Malcolm but from previous experience he knew Malcolm would keep silent and keep saying he was fine. He didn't particularly want him to order to tell him.
"I didn't realise, I'm sorry," he apologised sounding slightly flustered.
"Don't worry about it," said Archer.
There was an uneasy pause, where Malcolm stared at his quilt avoiding Archer's searching gaze.
"Do you have many nightmares?" Archer asked, deciding not to tiptoe round it.
"No sir."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not particularly sir."
"Ok, well you know where I am if you want to talk. Pleasant dreams Malcolm."
"Good night sir."
Malcolm watched Archer leave his small dog in tow and heaved a sigh of relief. He dragged himself up from his bed and peered at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
He hadn't had that dream in a long time.
'Fear upon fear, doubt upon doubt.........'
He thought briefly what had brought it on. It'd been years and years since he had read that poem, seen the body lying beside it and yet he could still see it fresh it in his mind as though it happened only moments ago.
He'd been embarrassed that Archer had found him and even more horrified that he'd hit him as he woke.
He splashed cold water on his face and returned to his bed. He found the book he'd been reading and picked up where he left off.
But the poem kept surfacing in his head and guilty feelings emerged. He should've noticed that man was unhappy, he should've done something, but he hadn't and the man had taken his own life.
He should've noticed his brother was unhappy, he should've tried to help him but he didn't. He didn't. If he could go back and change it he would. But the only son his father truly loved took his own life leaving only the poem behind.
He'd spent his whole life knowing that his father thought he should've died instead of his brother.
*Fear upon fear,
Doubt upon doubt,
'Cause the creatures are crawling,
So I can't get out.*
He sighed and closed his book. After all these years he still didn't know why his brother did it. But all he knew was it'd haunt his dreams for the rest of his life because he just couldn't let go.
~*~Please review, I know slightly dodgy and morbid but tell me your thoughts-they always help!~*~