deviant_muses August 2007 Prompt: Cry
Character Name: John Kramer AKA Jigsaw
Origin: Saw (series of films)
Word Count: 596
Character’s LJ: jigsaw_angel
Rating: Soft R for implied violence
Prompt: Cry
He was not unfeeling, nor were his eyes perpetually dry. Sometimes he wept, but for him it was as for Lorca’s Bernarda Alba - “Tears when you’re alone.”
Most times, however, he was calm and focused. His work was his mission. The tests were now everything to him. Taking those who did not appreciate their lives and forcing them to confront their sins through his ingenious traps - that had become the vocation of what was left of his life. He was dying, and there were so many people in the world who were ungrateful for the lives they had, wasting and squandering the most precious gift of all. He could have chosen to let himself collapse, to succumb to weakness because of this illness, the cancer consuming him - but after his failed suicide attempt he had risen and become strong. He was making a difference, taking one person at a time and inevitably changing them - if they lived to learn anything.
Once, he had just been John Kramer, a simple toy-maker; now he was the man that the media had dubbed Jigsaw. It was not a name he had chosen, or approved of, yet… there it was. Through it, the world was aware of him - and this perception of him was sure to linger, thanks to the sensational headlines and the public’s thirst for gory details.
If anyone could look into his heart and mind from the outside, they might call him a monster and a madman, and be tempted to judge him harshly for making others suffer the way he did. But his subjects brought their agonies upon themselves, he reasoned. If they failed their tests, it was because they lacked the instinct to survive. And it was not as if he was inflicting suffering upon them for his own pleasure. So often John himself underwent pain for the sake of what he had to do, depriving himself of food and sleep to devote his attentions entirely to his work. He was almost monastic in his discipline, giving himself completely to this philosophy that now gripped his mind and soul.
He missed Jill, his former wife, more than he was willing to admit, and there were moments when he felt sad for Zep, the orderly he had bonded with in hospital. If Zep had passed his test instead of getting killed, John would have taken him on, made him a part of this. He sometimes felt slightly remorseful for what he had put Amanda through - both her test and what he had had to do to train her as his apprentice - but he always managed to reassure himself that it was all necessary. If she was going to carry on his work after his death, then she would have to leave all traces of her former life behind and become as strong and disciplined as he.
Yes, John tested even those he felt something for now. It had to be this way - they must prove themselves worthy of life. Even if Jill were to return to him, supposing against all odds that she would ever want to, John had made up his mind that even she would not be exempt from the harrowing reality of his “games”.
These thoughts often brought tears to his eyes late at night, and usually he would blink them away in self-disgust. Crying was a luxury he could afford less and less these days.
But there were times, those moments when the loneliness and the specter of death became too much to bear, when John would allow the tears to fall.
Mun Note: The literary quote in this piece comes from the play, “The House of Bernarda Alba” by Federico Garcia Lorca.
Origin: Saw (series of films)
Word Count: 596
Character’s LJ: jigsaw_angel
Rating: Soft R for implied violence
Prompt: Cry
He was not unfeeling, nor were his eyes perpetually dry. Sometimes he wept, but for him it was as for Lorca’s Bernarda Alba - “Tears when you’re alone.”
Most times, however, he was calm and focused. His work was his mission. The tests were now everything to him. Taking those who did not appreciate their lives and forcing them to confront their sins through his ingenious traps - that had become the vocation of what was left of his life. He was dying, and there were so many people in the world who were ungrateful for the lives they had, wasting and squandering the most precious gift of all. He could have chosen to let himself collapse, to succumb to weakness because of this illness, the cancer consuming him - but after his failed suicide attempt he had risen and become strong. He was making a difference, taking one person at a time and inevitably changing them - if they lived to learn anything.
Once, he had just been John Kramer, a simple toy-maker; now he was the man that the media had dubbed Jigsaw. It was not a name he had chosen, or approved of, yet… there it was. Through it, the world was aware of him - and this perception of him was sure to linger, thanks to the sensational headlines and the public’s thirst for gory details.
If anyone could look into his heart and mind from the outside, they might call him a monster and a madman, and be tempted to judge him harshly for making others suffer the way he did. But his subjects brought their agonies upon themselves, he reasoned. If they failed their tests, it was because they lacked the instinct to survive. And it was not as if he was inflicting suffering upon them for his own pleasure. So often John himself underwent pain for the sake of what he had to do, depriving himself of food and sleep to devote his attentions entirely to his work. He was almost monastic in his discipline, giving himself completely to this philosophy that now gripped his mind and soul.
He missed Jill, his former wife, more than he was willing to admit, and there were moments when he felt sad for Zep, the orderly he had bonded with in hospital. If Zep had passed his test instead of getting killed, John would have taken him on, made him a part of this. He sometimes felt slightly remorseful for what he had put Amanda through - both her test and what he had had to do to train her as his apprentice - but he always managed to reassure himself that it was all necessary. If she was going to carry on his work after his death, then she would have to leave all traces of her former life behind and become as strong and disciplined as he.
Yes, John tested even those he felt something for now. It had to be this way - they must prove themselves worthy of life. Even if Jill were to return to him, supposing against all odds that she would ever want to, John had made up his mind that even she would not be exempt from the harrowing reality of his “games”.
These thoughts often brought tears to his eyes late at night, and usually he would blink them away in self-disgust. Crying was a luxury he could afford less and less these days.
But there were times, those moments when the loneliness and the specter of death became too much to bear, when John would allow the tears to fall.
Mun Note: The literary quote in this piece comes from the play, “The House of Bernarda Alba” by Federico Garcia Lorca.