15 minute fic
Title: Relativity
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Some guy 8D
Rating: Mmmm I dunno. PG.
Word count: 628
One day, he thought, he'd remember exactly why not having shoes on such a blisteringly hot day was a poor decision.
Where the sun burned incessantly upon his shoulders, leaving heat to crawl over his skin until he could feel it going pink, the melting ooze of tar-seal along the pavement and roads as he traversed them clung and stung to the soles of his feet, trapping their own heat there along with stray stones and pebbles and God-only-knew what else. The worst part was that it wasn't even really worth the effort of halting to clean his feet; the very next step would ensure that they returned to the same state. Resistance, as always, was futile. Really, a pair of jandals at the very least. Next time. Next time he'd remember.
Today - always - he was distracted.
His face pulled into a dismayed pout as a particularly sharp shrapnel of gravel found his foot (and, honestly, why weren't his feet yet toughened enough to be able to ignore such insults? A mystery) and this one had to be pried loose. For a moment he was reminded of caltrops, thrown at the hooves of cavalry during wars to rendering them limping and useless. Poorly-sealed roads, it seemed, were full of Nature's caltrops. Was it Her passive-aggressive resistance to the damage the most intelligent of Her children constantly wreaked upon her? Was it Karma, trying to balance his dues from previous small crimes, or perhaps even ones he was due to commit in the future? Was it just something so small and simple as him setting his path in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Sometimes - always - he was pulled into this convoluted conduit of intense thought, trains of which rushed him away from a reality that seemed more and more distant with every moment that passed. With increasing regularity he found himself drawn into complex philosophical introspection. Always a curious child, he'd grown into a curious man, and there were never quite enough answers to satisfy him. When he'd figured one to his satisfaction, half a hundred more clamoured for his attention, tantalising him with thoughts he'd partially-completed over the years.
He very carefully avoided the bigger ones, though. Questions such as Why are we here and Are we alone and Is there something bigger out there just led to madness, and the last thing he wanted was to go insane.
Another caltrop wormed under his foot; this time he ignored it, for he could hear the sounds of his pursuit jogging resignedly after him. Really, you'd think they would have given up by now. How often did he have to escape from them before they'd just let him go? Unfortunately they were always faster than him. Unfortunately, he always seemed to somehow wind up taking the same route, and now they'd figured that out, they could cut him off.
One of them came up to him now, face sympathetic, though the man didn't really notice. He was preoccupied with something far more important, after all. But the other spoke, softly and almost fondly, and the man stopped despite himself. His feet hurt. They'd caught him again. He may as well give them their victory and bide his time.
They led him away, back to the place with the gentle gardens and cheerful paintings, filled with mindless laughter or endless weeping. They kept putting him amongst the crazy people, and he just couldn't understand why. Why did they think he was crazy? Because he thought about something bigger than himself? Because he needed the answers? Or because he'd killed a woman to find out what people looked like inside?
Honestly, sometimes he wondered why they weren't locked up themselves. People just made no sense.
Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Some guy 8D
Rating: Mmmm I dunno. PG.
Word count: 628
One day, he thought, he'd remember exactly why not having shoes on such a blisteringly hot day was a poor decision.
Where the sun burned incessantly upon his shoulders, leaving heat to crawl over his skin until he could feel it going pink, the melting ooze of tar-seal along the pavement and roads as he traversed them clung and stung to the soles of his feet, trapping their own heat there along with stray stones and pebbles and God-only-knew what else. The worst part was that it wasn't even really worth the effort of halting to clean his feet; the very next step would ensure that they returned to the same state. Resistance, as always, was futile. Really, a pair of jandals at the very least. Next time. Next time he'd remember.
Today - always - he was distracted.
His face pulled into a dismayed pout as a particularly sharp shrapnel of gravel found his foot (and, honestly, why weren't his feet yet toughened enough to be able to ignore such insults? A mystery) and this one had to be pried loose. For a moment he was reminded of caltrops, thrown at the hooves of cavalry during wars to rendering them limping and useless. Poorly-sealed roads, it seemed, were full of Nature's caltrops. Was it Her passive-aggressive resistance to the damage the most intelligent of Her children constantly wreaked upon her? Was it Karma, trying to balance his dues from previous small crimes, or perhaps even ones he was due to commit in the future? Was it just something so small and simple as him setting his path in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Sometimes - always - he was pulled into this convoluted conduit of intense thought, trains of which rushed him away from a reality that seemed more and more distant with every moment that passed. With increasing regularity he found himself drawn into complex philosophical introspection. Always a curious child, he'd grown into a curious man, and there were never quite enough answers to satisfy him. When he'd figured one to his satisfaction, half a hundred more clamoured for his attention, tantalising him with thoughts he'd partially-completed over the years.
He very carefully avoided the bigger ones, though. Questions such as Why are we here and Are we alone and Is there something bigger out there just led to madness, and the last thing he wanted was to go insane.
Another caltrop wormed under his foot; this time he ignored it, for he could hear the sounds of his pursuit jogging resignedly after him. Really, you'd think they would have given up by now. How often did he have to escape from them before they'd just let him go? Unfortunately they were always faster than him. Unfortunately, he always seemed to somehow wind up taking the same route, and now they'd figured that out, they could cut him off.
One of them came up to him now, face sympathetic, though the man didn't really notice. He was preoccupied with something far more important, after all. But the other spoke, softly and almost fondly, and the man stopped despite himself. His feet hurt. They'd caught him again. He may as well give them their victory and bide his time.
They led him away, back to the place with the gentle gardens and cheerful paintings, filled with mindless laughter or endless weeping. They kept putting him amongst the crazy people, and he just couldn't understand why. Why did they think he was crazy? Because he thought about something bigger than himself? Because he needed the answers? Or because he'd killed a woman to find out what people looked like inside?
Honestly, sometimes he wondered why they weren't locked up themselves. People just made no sense.