Charioteer fan fiction
Title: Drowning
Author: Dramadream10
Book: The Charioteer
Characters: Ralph Lanyon
Rating: PG
Summary: Ralph’s version of Dunkirk when he’s ship went down.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and make no profit from them.
He was drowning. Being crushed wave after wave. His lungs filling with sea water. Everywhere was panic and death. He could smell it in the air, feel it in his bones. He didn’t know how he was still alive, only that he was. They were still shooting people down far off in the distance. He could hear the men yelling, ordering commands and trying to bring the bastards down. For him it was simple. They had won, while he himself had lost.
He didn’t know when he lost consciousness, only aware that his bodyweight was becoming a burden he was not sure he would keep afloat for long. Next thing he knew he was on a rescue boat and a man was trying to give him whiskey to wake him. He had coughed and choked a little, spitting a bit out before regaining his senses. He had taken another swing with the help of another passenger. His left hand was wrapped in a dirty towel, and the blood covered nearly the entire thing. He was afraid to peel back the filthy cloth and see his whole hand gone. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move his head when he heard more gunfire nearby. He couldn’t understand why he was alive. Why it was he was the one fished out of the water when so many others hadn’t been.
This was the day from hell. He had lost his ship but not his life. He couldn’t understand why.
Author: Dramadream10
Book: The Charioteer
Characters: Ralph Lanyon
Rating: PG
Summary: Ralph’s version of Dunkirk when he’s ship went down.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and make no profit from them.
He was drowning. Being crushed wave after wave. His lungs filling with sea water. Everywhere was panic and death. He could smell it in the air, feel it in his bones. He didn’t know how he was still alive, only that he was. They were still shooting people down far off in the distance. He could hear the men yelling, ordering commands and trying to bring the bastards down. For him it was simple. They had won, while he himself had lost.
He didn’t know when he lost consciousness, only aware that his bodyweight was becoming a burden he was not sure he would keep afloat for long. Next thing he knew he was on a rescue boat and a man was trying to give him whiskey to wake him. He had coughed and choked a little, spitting a bit out before regaining his senses. He had taken another swing with the help of another passenger. His left hand was wrapped in a dirty towel, and the blood covered nearly the entire thing. He was afraid to peel back the filthy cloth and see his whole hand gone. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move his head when he heard more gunfire nearby. He couldn’t understand why he was alive. Why it was he was the one fished out of the water when so many others hadn’t been.
This was the day from hell. He had lost his ship but not his life. He couldn’t understand why.