Came the Night, Came the End, 1/1, R, Gen
Mar. 7th, 2009 02:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mickeymTitle:Came the Night, Came the End
Pairing: None
Rating: R, for imagery
Word Count: 300
Spoilers/Warnings: Um, none, I guess. This is future!fic
Disclaimer: Sadly, still not mine.
Summary: Sometimes, he remembers.
A/N:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
digitalwave posted a rather chilling piece of artwork, Comes the Apocalypse, and my brain went to a really dark place. Well, dark for me, anyway. This isn't a happy piece at all, and it might make more sense if you look at her artwork first. Thanks for reading :)
Time passes differently Here than it did There.
Faster, wetter, and darker, it smolders and burns; minutes like embers waiting to ignite, hours heavy with pain, a conflagration that spreads, smothers, destroys.
Here, time tastes like iron and sounds like misery, hoarse and heavy; made of cries for salvation, for deliverance, for mercy.
He doesn't remember There very well. All he remembers – all he knows – is Here.
Here, where he can bathe in blood, and comb his fingers through entrails, picking and pulling on choice bits, the sound of flesh separating from flesh, thick and wet.
Here, where the screams trickle down over him, warm and comforting, soothing as they echo inside him.
Here he is the day, the night, an eternity of pain shot through with sulfur and brimstone, tinged with smoke and flames and heat.
Here – and everywhere, now – there is no sun, and the only wind comes when the cries of the damned stir the air around them.
But once in a while, when the screams come slower, softer, no longer twining around him like a lover's caress…he remembers.
There, he felt the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. There, he knew tenderness and love; knew the pleasure kisses and caresses could bring, and reveled in them.
There, he knew the purity of joy and the agony of loss, and rejoiced and ached with them.
There, he was human.
There, he was Sam.
He can still pick it out, now and again, one individual cry in amidst the cacophony surrounding him. Hears Sam, Sammy, stop, make it stop.
He doesn't, and he won't, because it never can. Here is how it is now; how it always will be. There is gone, never to be again.
But sometimes…sometimes…he can remember.
And then he weeps.
~fin~
Pairing: None
Rating: R, for imagery
Word Count: 300
Spoilers/Warnings: Um, none, I guess. This is future!fic
Disclaimer: Sadly, still not mine.
Summary: Sometimes, he remembers.
A/N:
digitalwave posted a rather chilling piece of artwork, Comes the Apocalypse, and my brain went to a really dark place. Well, dark for me, anyway. This isn't a happy piece at all, and it might make more sense if you look at her artwork first. Thanks for reading :)Time passes differently Here than it did There.
Faster, wetter, and darker, it smolders and burns; minutes like embers waiting to ignite, hours heavy with pain, a conflagration that spreads, smothers, destroys.
Here, time tastes like iron and sounds like misery, hoarse and heavy; made of cries for salvation, for deliverance, for mercy.
He doesn't remember There very well. All he remembers – all he knows – is Here.
Here, where he can bathe in blood, and comb his fingers through entrails, picking and pulling on choice bits, the sound of flesh separating from flesh, thick and wet.
Here, where the screams trickle down over him, warm and comforting, soothing as they echo inside him.
Here he is the day, the night, an eternity of pain shot through with sulfur and brimstone, tinged with smoke and flames and heat.
Here – and everywhere, now – there is no sun, and the only wind comes when the cries of the damned stir the air around them.
But once in a while, when the screams come slower, softer, no longer twining around him like a lover's caress…he remembers.
There, he felt the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. There, he knew tenderness and love; knew the pleasure kisses and caresses could bring, and reveled in them.
There, he knew the purity of joy and the agony of loss, and rejoiced and ached with them.
There, he was human.
There, he was Sam.
He can still pick it out, now and again, one individual cry in amidst the cacophony surrounding him. Hears Sam, Sammy, stop, make it stop.
He doesn't, and he won't, because it never can. Here is how it is now; how it always will be. There is gone, never to be again.
But sometimes…sometimes…he can remember.
And then he weeps.
~fin~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 07:41 pm (UTC)Wow, you've more than made my day. :)
*hugs you hard*
no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 07:54 pm (UTC)Honestly, I love it when something hits me so hard that I feel inspired, so thank you :)
*snugs*
no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-07 11:27 pm (UTC)Love, Robin
no subject
Date: 2009-03-08 09:53 am (UTC)*MEEP*
no subject
Date: 2009-03-08 04:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-08 05:27 pm (UTC)*topples*
Disturbing thought that Sam would enjoy his reign in hell.
*hides under blanket*
no subject
Date: 2009-03-09 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-09 05:18 pm (UTC)You're an extraordinary writer and the
last line just guts you and leaves you hollow.
I'm adding this to my memories, thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-03-09 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-10 08:54 am (UTC)