Word #106

[crazedturkey.livejournal.com]

Apologies for the lateness of this. I fail. It's a fact.

Don't look at the word until you are ready to write.  When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal.  If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.

Today's word is: bear

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<b>Title:</b> <b>Fandom/original:</b> <b>Characters:</b> <b>Rating:</b> <b>Word count:</b>

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[edenfalling]

Title: Endurance
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Characters: Susan, Edmund
Rating: G
Word count: 675

"The thing is," Susan tells Edmund once, "you have to live in the world you're given."

[deltachild.livejournal.com]

Title: Demons
F1 RPS:
Characters: Nelsinho Piquet
Rating:PG-13
Word count: 617

Whenever I sleep alone, I wake up to the sound of my demons crawling out of the shadows. They claw at each other in their desperation to get to me, fighting and growling amongst their pack, but I never leave the gaze of their hollow eyes. By the time the strongest reach me, their maws already wet and dripping, they are painted crimson in the darkness.

Their touches are like burning brands against my skin, arcing fire that streaks through me with increasing degrees of intensity. Sometimes I'm lucky and that is when I wake, throat hoarse from screaming and in time to watch dawns embers scatter across the sky.

Most of the time I am not lucky at all.

Their first touch is bad enough, but then they touch me again and all that came before feels like a cheap party trick. They trail their withered fingers along my face, a cheap mockery of tenderness, and bring their jaws close to mine. Sickly sweet breath washes over me, hollow sockets stare blankly into my eyes and they all but purr as they envelop me.

Watching them sink into my skin is horrific but I cannot look away. I can see and feel their darkness rippling beneath my skin, poisoning my soul, their essence clawing at me as they pass into my brain. They rob me of my sight, and cloud my senses. They whisper every failure to me, illustrating their words with bright tableaus that I cannot escape from. Sometimes they make me re-live every single lap of the day or the most recent weekend. Every line I got wrong, the vibration from every flat spot and the impact from every kerb is replayed to me in violent Technicolor. They love it when I crash, replaying it from impossible angles and probing at every mark the impact has left me with.

Then, without warning, they will leave me and like a fool I'll believe that it's forever. Like a fool I'll relax, draw breath, close my eyes and that will be all it takes.

Although I hear their growls, there is no time to register them before their weight falls upon me again. I used to try and fight them, but it never did any good and I got tired of explaining away the marks my raw knuckles left on successive hotel walls. Being passive doesn't earn me any favours though.

There's no pain, as their claws tear into me. No sensation, as they peel the flesh from my ribcage and abdomen. It no longer sickens or fascinates me either. The slick noise of flesh being separated from flesh burrows into my brain, as does the slurp of raw meat being drawn through wet lips. I sometimes catch the same sounds in the day to day background noise of my life, but they are fleeting moments in my consciousness, all too easily hidden by the hum of an iPod or the scream of an engine.

Occasionally they rest from their feeding to trail a lazy claw around a nipple, the hollow of my throat, sometimes even my balls. My lovers don't know how much it takes for me not to flinch when they unknowingly trace the same paths with teasing fingers and a curious tongue. When my demons return to feeding they squabble over me, dripping warm blood across my face. Sometimes so much blood falls that it works its way past my lips and oozes into my mouth. That always makes them laugh.

I wake up with their laughter echoing through my ears and with the taste of iron at the back of my throat. The memory of them fading with every breath I take.