Post by spyder on Jan 18, 2007 21:19:58 GMT -5
Just another one shot which opens a lot more doors into the past of Jeff Irvine of The Tomorrow That May Never Come.
I just wasn't sure that established well enough in that fic that Jeff had never felt comfortable anywhere because he'd never known where he really came from.
It's okay, not the best of my work, but just something I thought you guys might be interested in.
So yeah, I hope you like it! If it is, likeable XD
Without A Home
I lay back, leaning against the cold hard rock panting, my heart thumping against my chest as though it was trying to escape my body entirely. Beads of sweat slowly rolling down the sides of my face as I felt the fire raging behind me, in the wreckage of the building.
Slowly, I felt my conscious returning and the heat inside of me, boiling my blood and charging this anger through me, slowly ease away, and I was in control again, suddenly fully aware of what was going on. The first thing I saw was the markings upon my chest slowly burning away. It had taken control of me, I’d finally given in.
Blood soaked the skin on my hands, and my body was covered with cuts and markings, I felt them stinging as they came in contact with the rock. I winced; pulling myself up onto my feet, my left leg buckling at first when I saw it had a nasty gash across the back of it. My head was rushing and aching too, almost as though I wasn’t all there, almost as though the devil had taken something from deep within of me.
I leant up against the rock, standing with my knees bent slightly as I leant forward; catching what was left of my breath. Just like before I had no idea where I was, I had no idea where they’d taken me or what they’d done. But they’d gotten what they wanted; they’d summoned the evil inside of me, for another day, and I’d come one step closer to having the devil consume me entirely.
“I can’t” I said, my eyes flickering as the light from the embers bounced off of them “I can’t lose this,” I continued “I have to fight, just so I can make everything right. I have to do this, so I finally know why I’m here.”
The determination of my own words fuelled me and gave me enough strength to pull myself to my feet and carry own, even though I didn’t know how much longer I could live off second winds. I staggered closer into the flaming wreck that I’d been held in, staring upon my own destructive path in shock. Realising quickly that the blood on my hands was not my own, and the cuts and scars making my anatomy hadn’t been formed the way I thought they had.
There were at least 5 of them, lying there helplessly. The men the Huntsman had sacrificed to me, just to witness my power, but not at his own expense. I couldn’t stand it anymore; I couldn’t let him get away with this anymore.
“They probably had it coming,” I said, looking in upon the massacred bodies “But then again, they are human.”
I turned away from my own disaster, for I couldn't bare to look and picture myself attacking those men, completely consumed by evil. In a funny way, it was like I was my own worst nightmare, one that I had to escape everyday, just to be safe.
I continued to walk away from the fallen bodies, wanting to rid them of my mind completely as I followed the sloped and grassy plains upwards, not sure where I was taking myself but feeling as though I had somewhere to be.
I kept walking, guided on heart and soul, still clutching my scarred leg as I limped along. Even with the unbearable pain searing through it I didn't stop. I kept going until I reached the top of the hill and was able to see over onto the other side, finding what I'd been looking for.
There it sat, a few yards ahead of me. A small brick house across from the isolated, desolate road. I almost didn't believe my own eyes, and ran down as fast as I could my legs could carry me, forgetting my injuries, forgetting my pain. Just fuelled by the determination inside of me.
When I reached it, I actually stepped up to it and touched the brick in disbelief, as though my mind was tricking me and I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
“This place,” I said, looking upon it and shaking my head “I lived here for years and none of it made sense. Not a single part of it felt right.”
I walked forward and put my hand upon the rusted, dirty knob turning it and opening the door with a sickening screech. It was as though no one had entered it for years.
The room was dusty and stuffy, light searing through the stained curtains, which were hanging limply by a thread of the fabric. I looked across to an end table sitting beside the scruffy, worn couch and saw the photograph that made my heart skip a beat.
The woman in the photograph, with long black hair and caring wise, brown eyes, I knew her from before. Before. I hate that word now.
It symbols everything in the past, all the deceit and lies I'd been feed before I was even born. She was one of them. Her entire life she'd been tricked into been someone she really wasn't, she'd been tricked into pretended she was my mom.
“I can’t hate you,” I said staring at the photograph “because I know none of this is your fault. But I can’t love you, you because I’ve never known who you really are.”
“This is not the place...” I said to myself, after putting the photo back down and turning to head out. As much as I wanted it to be, as much as I just wished I could belong here and had everything I wanted within in these four walls, but I couldn't. Because I would be lying to myself, and that would make me become everything I'd grown to hate over the past few years.
“Maybe one day I will learn,” I continued as I walked off, stepping out of the old, worn building “Maybe one day I will find what I’m really looking for because I know somewhere it’s out there. The place I’ll live, the place I’ll be forever, the place I belong to. But until then I will always go on, living the same day over and over again, wallowing alone, without a moment or rest, or a real place to call my own. Without a sense of love or sanctuary. Without a home…”
I just wasn't sure that established well enough in that fic that Jeff had never felt comfortable anywhere because he'd never known where he really came from.
It's okay, not the best of my work, but just something I thought you guys might be interested in.
So yeah, I hope you like it! If it is, likeable XD
Without A Home
I lay back, leaning against the cold hard rock panting, my heart thumping against my chest as though it was trying to escape my body entirely. Beads of sweat slowly rolling down the sides of my face as I felt the fire raging behind me, in the wreckage of the building.
Slowly, I felt my conscious returning and the heat inside of me, boiling my blood and charging this anger through me, slowly ease away, and I was in control again, suddenly fully aware of what was going on. The first thing I saw was the markings upon my chest slowly burning away. It had taken control of me, I’d finally given in.
Blood soaked the skin on my hands, and my body was covered with cuts and markings, I felt them stinging as they came in contact with the rock. I winced; pulling myself up onto my feet, my left leg buckling at first when I saw it had a nasty gash across the back of it. My head was rushing and aching too, almost as though I wasn’t all there, almost as though the devil had taken something from deep within of me.
I leant up against the rock, standing with my knees bent slightly as I leant forward; catching what was left of my breath. Just like before I had no idea where I was, I had no idea where they’d taken me or what they’d done. But they’d gotten what they wanted; they’d summoned the evil inside of me, for another day, and I’d come one step closer to having the devil consume me entirely.
“I can’t” I said, my eyes flickering as the light from the embers bounced off of them “I can’t lose this,” I continued “I have to fight, just so I can make everything right. I have to do this, so I finally know why I’m here.”
The determination of my own words fuelled me and gave me enough strength to pull myself to my feet and carry own, even though I didn’t know how much longer I could live off second winds. I staggered closer into the flaming wreck that I’d been held in, staring upon my own destructive path in shock. Realising quickly that the blood on my hands was not my own, and the cuts and scars making my anatomy hadn’t been formed the way I thought they had.
There were at least 5 of them, lying there helplessly. The men the Huntsman had sacrificed to me, just to witness my power, but not at his own expense. I couldn’t stand it anymore; I couldn’t let him get away with this anymore.
“They probably had it coming,” I said, looking in upon the massacred bodies “But then again, they are human.”
I turned away from my own disaster, for I couldn't bare to look and picture myself attacking those men, completely consumed by evil. In a funny way, it was like I was my own worst nightmare, one that I had to escape everyday, just to be safe.
I continued to walk away from the fallen bodies, wanting to rid them of my mind completely as I followed the sloped and grassy plains upwards, not sure where I was taking myself but feeling as though I had somewhere to be.
I kept walking, guided on heart and soul, still clutching my scarred leg as I limped along. Even with the unbearable pain searing through it I didn't stop. I kept going until I reached the top of the hill and was able to see over onto the other side, finding what I'd been looking for.
There it sat, a few yards ahead of me. A small brick house across from the isolated, desolate road. I almost didn't believe my own eyes, and ran down as fast as I could my legs could carry me, forgetting my injuries, forgetting my pain. Just fuelled by the determination inside of me.
When I reached it, I actually stepped up to it and touched the brick in disbelief, as though my mind was tricking me and I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
“This place,” I said, looking upon it and shaking my head “I lived here for years and none of it made sense. Not a single part of it felt right.”
I walked forward and put my hand upon the rusted, dirty knob turning it and opening the door with a sickening screech. It was as though no one had entered it for years.
The room was dusty and stuffy, light searing through the stained curtains, which were hanging limply by a thread of the fabric. I looked across to an end table sitting beside the scruffy, worn couch and saw the photograph that made my heart skip a beat.
The woman in the photograph, with long black hair and caring wise, brown eyes, I knew her from before. Before. I hate that word now.
It symbols everything in the past, all the deceit and lies I'd been feed before I was even born. She was one of them. Her entire life she'd been tricked into been someone she really wasn't, she'd been tricked into pretended she was my mom.
“I can’t hate you,” I said staring at the photograph “because I know none of this is your fault. But I can’t love you, you because I’ve never known who you really are.”
“This is not the place...” I said to myself, after putting the photo back down and turning to head out. As much as I wanted it to be, as much as I just wished I could belong here and had everything I wanted within in these four walls, but I couldn't. Because I would be lying to myself, and that would make me become everything I'd grown to hate over the past few years.
“Maybe one day I will learn,” I continued as I walked off, stepping out of the old, worn building “Maybe one day I will find what I’m really looking for because I know somewhere it’s out there. The place I’ll live, the place I’ll be forever, the place I belong to. But until then I will always go on, living the same day over and over again, wallowing alone, without a moment or rest, or a real place to call my own. Without a sense of love or sanctuary. Without a home…”