So whooooo likes ragged/confused/jumbled prose? RAISE HANDS.
Otherwise known as fuckawhat, self, but okay. Here goes. Warnings for mentions of suicide, fake-out character death, and, uh. Yeah. :D? Also language and shit.
Everything Flows, Nothing Remains
At first, Sam didn’t even understand.
“What?” he said, because he’d heard that wrong, surely he’d heard that wrong, it was just his fucked up brain - things like this happened all the time, and he knew they weren’t real, knew it because he would blink and look to the left and sometimes check pulse and breathing just in case but only when Dean was sleeping because he’d freak out otherwise-
He looked to his left. The chair was empty.
“It would have been almost instant,” the man was saying, dry, almost mechanical, with an attempt at sympathy sprinkled on top. “There would likely have been no pain.” Sam dug his fingernails into the scar, into his wrist when that didn’t work, scrabbling for purchase, for pain. The man stayed.
“We need you to ID the body,” the man said. The body.
( ... )
OH GOSH let me love you for this comment, it made me smile so much. And I'm glad the prose style worked for you, it is not my usual and slkjdf thank you so much, you are too kind by halfs.
This prompt grabbed me for all of the reasons you have articulated so well, and I'm glad I could reflect them back at you. You give the best prompts, you really do. I think I've actually written for a few of yours now, and they always seem to end up going good (awful?) places.
I loved the style here; the disconnected stream-of-consciousness thing works really well for Sam's state of mind. I kept thinking of a record skipping, as Sam keeps coming back to the same thoughts.
And then Dean's back, and it's okay, kind of, except Sam's reminded how fragile life is, and that's not okay at all.
Otherwise known as fuckawhat, self, but okay. Here goes. Warnings for mentions of suicide, fake-out character death, and, uh. Yeah. :D? Also language and shit.
Everything Flows, Nothing Remains
At first, Sam didn’t even understand.
“What?” he said, because he’d heard that wrong, surely he’d heard that wrong, it was just his fucked up brain - things like this happened all the time, and he knew they weren’t real, knew it because he would blink and look to the left and sometimes check pulse and breathing just in case but only when Dean was sleeping because he’d freak out otherwise-
He looked to his left. The chair was empty.
“It would have been almost instant,” the man was saying, dry, almost mechanical, with an attempt at sympathy sprinkled on top. “There would likely have been no pain.” Sam dug his fingernails into the scar, into his wrist when that didn’t work, scrabbling for purchase, for pain. The man stayed.
“We need you to ID the body,” the man said. The body. ( ... )
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This prompt grabbed me for all of the reasons you have articulated so well, and I'm glad I could reflect them back at you. You give the best prompts, you really do. I think I've actually written for a few of yours now, and they always seem to end up going good (awful?) places.
Thank you so much!
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I loved the style here; the disconnected stream-of-consciousness thing works really well for Sam's state of mind. I kept thinking of a record skipping, as Sam keeps coming back to the same thoughts.
And then Dean's back, and it's okay, kind of, except Sam's reminded how fragile life is, and that's not okay at all.
BOYS. *sniffle*
Very, very nicely done.
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