(no subject)
White Bark
Heroes | Sylar
PG16 | 755 words
As the door swung open, the connection with a frail wall caused a loud cracking thud as a young man slipped through into a grungy motel room. Throwing his few belongings on a tattered chair, he moved about the space with half-lidded eyes, the product of thirty one hours on the road.
Lack of sleep had taken a toll on his body; muscles burned and ached with each miniscule movement, his face was left void of emotion and ghostly images had begun to enter his psyche. When his knees gave out on him and he stumbled backwards onto the thin mattress, the small comfort of padding dragged him into a deep sleep.
Eyes opened to an unconscious world, dark brown orbits drifting along the sweeping curves of rolling hills as they disappeared into shadowed forests. As he surveyed his surroundings, a trail of white bark clouded in deep green foliage caught his attention, pulling him towards its long sweeping branches.
Beneath the protection of the large Cyprus tree, the man slumped to the ground as a thin mist of dirt drifted around his body, leaving a layer of dust speckled on his jeans. Pulling at his coat sleeve, brown eyes closed as his neck lulled back against the trunk and darkness overtook his senses.
Just as quickly as his eyes had closed, they were open at the sensation of droplets hitting his thigh. The rhythm cut into his thoughts as he stared at his outstretched leg, tiny red drips spreading into large bloodstained discs. As he watched the denim fabric soak in the crimson liquid, his eyes rose to the entwining branches above as violent screams assaulted his ears.
Above him, interlaced in the twisting branches hung faceless victims; limbs broken and gnarled as porcelain skin melded into white bark. Numbness crept through his veins, traveling its way to the tips of his fingers causing pale hands to tremble at his sides as his eyes followed the limp bodies beginning to sway.
The man shut his eyes, blocking out the horror from his view as his clothes became damp with the repeated pressure of heavy, thick drops continuing to beat against his skin. Trembling hands tore at his jeans as palms frantically brushed at blood caked fabric, shallow breaths exiting his lips as an impulsive grin crossed his features.
He tugged at his clothes, hoping to be free from the liquid moistening his skin as echoed screams were engulfed in an oppressive silence. As he stared vacantly at the crimson tinged denim, a careless act of distraught scratching and rabid compulsions followed; the desperation to be clean aiding his destruction. Blunt nails scraped at flesh, leaving shallow wounds against red-soaked palms as panic clouded his mind and unworthy prayers escaped his parted lips.
Overwhelmed by the deafening silence and whispered pleas of salvation, the man bolted up from the ground, willing his shaky legs to stumble forward. Brown eyes, fixed wide, watched as forested plains melted into stark white walls and a rush of crimson flooded the sterile floor.
A metallic sting filled the room, burning his nostrils as the deep red wave reached his knees, blood soaking through his jeans and chilling his skin to ice. His heartbeat quickened, nerves trembled as veins pulsed violently beneath pale flesh. It was only after the blood had reached his waist that he started to panic, lips parted to scream but what should have been heard became mute to his ears.
Thick liquid splashed against his throat, engulfing his entire body in a moist deluge as blood caked the stubble trailing down his neck. A sharp bite of iron infused his taste buds, sending his mind into sensory overload as blood seeped pass his sealed lips, drowning his lungs in a heavy claret solution.
With a strangled choke, the man’s body violently jerked awake, a trail of frantic coughs racking his chest. Sitting on the edge of the thin mattress, unsteady hands clutched at tousled damp hair, wishing desperately to shake the images from his mind. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck, moistening the second layer of skin that had once been his clothes as he weakly pushed off the bed.
He didn’t bother to calm his rapidly beating heart or his panic-stricken breath as he grabbed his possessions and stumbled out of the motel room. It became clear to him that he would just have to settle for a few more hours on the road, if only to lead him to his intended destination.
Heroes | Sylar
PG16 | 755 words
As the door swung open, the connection with a frail wall caused a loud cracking thud as a young man slipped through into a grungy motel room. Throwing his few belongings on a tattered chair, he moved about the space with half-lidded eyes, the product of thirty one hours on the road.
Lack of sleep had taken a toll on his body; muscles burned and ached with each miniscule movement, his face was left void of emotion and ghostly images had begun to enter his psyche. When his knees gave out on him and he stumbled backwards onto the thin mattress, the small comfort of padding dragged him into a deep sleep.
Eyes opened to an unconscious world, dark brown orbits drifting along the sweeping curves of rolling hills as they disappeared into shadowed forests. As he surveyed his surroundings, a trail of white bark clouded in deep green foliage caught his attention, pulling him towards its long sweeping branches.
Beneath the protection of the large Cyprus tree, the man slumped to the ground as a thin mist of dirt drifted around his body, leaving a layer of dust speckled on his jeans. Pulling at his coat sleeve, brown eyes closed as his neck lulled back against the trunk and darkness overtook his senses.
Just as quickly as his eyes had closed, they were open at the sensation of droplets hitting his thigh. The rhythm cut into his thoughts as he stared at his outstretched leg, tiny red drips spreading into large bloodstained discs. As he watched the denim fabric soak in the crimson liquid, his eyes rose to the entwining branches above as violent screams assaulted his ears.
Above him, interlaced in the twisting branches hung faceless victims; limbs broken and gnarled as porcelain skin melded into white bark. Numbness crept through his veins, traveling its way to the tips of his fingers causing pale hands to tremble at his sides as his eyes followed the limp bodies beginning to sway.
The man shut his eyes, blocking out the horror from his view as his clothes became damp with the repeated pressure of heavy, thick drops continuing to beat against his skin. Trembling hands tore at his jeans as palms frantically brushed at blood caked fabric, shallow breaths exiting his lips as an impulsive grin crossed his features.
He tugged at his clothes, hoping to be free from the liquid moistening his skin as echoed screams were engulfed in an oppressive silence. As he stared vacantly at the crimson tinged denim, a careless act of distraught scratching and rabid compulsions followed; the desperation to be clean aiding his destruction. Blunt nails scraped at flesh, leaving shallow wounds against red-soaked palms as panic clouded his mind and unworthy prayers escaped his parted lips.
Overwhelmed by the deafening silence and whispered pleas of salvation, the man bolted up from the ground, willing his shaky legs to stumble forward. Brown eyes, fixed wide, watched as forested plains melted into stark white walls and a rush of crimson flooded the sterile floor.
A metallic sting filled the room, burning his nostrils as the deep red wave reached his knees, blood soaking through his jeans and chilling his skin to ice. His heartbeat quickened, nerves trembled as veins pulsed violently beneath pale flesh. It was only after the blood had reached his waist that he started to panic, lips parted to scream but what should have been heard became mute to his ears.
Thick liquid splashed against his throat, engulfing his entire body in a moist deluge as blood caked the stubble trailing down his neck. A sharp bite of iron infused his taste buds, sending his mind into sensory overload as blood seeped pass his sealed lips, drowning his lungs in a heavy claret solution.
With a strangled choke, the man’s body violently jerked awake, a trail of frantic coughs racking his chest. Sitting on the edge of the thin mattress, unsteady hands clutched at tousled damp hair, wishing desperately to shake the images from his mind. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck, moistening the second layer of skin that had once been his clothes as he weakly pushed off the bed.
He didn’t bother to calm his rapidly beating heart or his panic-stricken breath as he grabbed his possessions and stumbled out of the motel room. It became clear to him that he would just have to settle for a few more hours on the road, if only to lead him to his intended destination.