Original Fiction! Run Away!
*
I may not have much time, so I'll keep this short.
Cities?
They're alive.
Not strictly, of course, but in a more... metaphorical sense.
London is an ancient madman, Paris is a raddled old whore desperately clutching the last shreds of her beauty, New York is brash, vibrant, violent...
Towns?
Towns are alive too.
Something about so many people in such small spaces...
There's something wrong with my town.
Something wrong with Scarborough, Queen of Watering Places.
Something...
It’s like… people who've lived here their whole lives, they don't notice it, or if they do don't care.
Or at least pretend they don’t.
People from away... they laugh about it, make cruel comments about inbreeding during cold Northern winters and try joking away the problem.
It's still there, though.
The men who built the castle, the Angles who built their settlement here centuries before, the Romans who built their watchtower up on the headland before that...
They knew what I mean, what I fear.
What other reason is there that they built where they did?
What were they watching for, who were they guarding against?
Why build such a huge fortress to protect a place of such little importance?
Oh, the historians can say it was to ward off attacks by raiding Norsemen, or protect the North against marauding Scots, or defend our trade routes from those ever-maligned French...
It's all nonsense.
Nonsense.
I discovered the secret by accident, of course- you always do.
I wasn't even looking for anything in the first place- I just stumbled across it.
Tripped and fell, late one night, looked up, saw…
Saw them.
I wish I hadn't.
Now every night I lock my doors and windows, turn all the lights on, build the fire as high as I can...
Anything to keep them out.
This town, crouching on the shore like some grotesque hunchback...
If you look closely, you realise it's only really half.
The rest of it, the true Old Town...
Sometimes you'll see lights in the bay, and you'll tell yourself that they’re fishing boats, or buoys, or anything other than what you know they are.
Sometimes you'll hear someone- some thing- behind you as you walk home from the pub, and you'll quicken your step without knowing why, and you'll slam and bolt the door behind you, you heart pounding in your chest, without ever knowing why.
Sometimes you'll awake from a dream of terrible staring eyes and you'll smell something foul, something rotten, dank and dead, and you'll search high and low, and never find the source of the stench.
People from away, they joke about there being "something in the water", and I want to shriek every time I hear it, want to tell them how right they are, scream at them the utter, shattering, awful truth...
They're in the bay, damn them, the things are in the sea, they've been there since forever, they were here first, they-
Oh, God, the window, they're at my window, they-
*
Watched House Of Wax with king_of_bees last night. He went "eeurgh" a record four times- mostly due to Achilles tendon slicing, but also due to what was done to Jared Padalecki's face in it.
He's also now suggesting I write fanfic about it.
Strange boy...
I may not have much time, so I'll keep this short.
Cities?
They're alive.
Not strictly, of course, but in a more... metaphorical sense.
London is an ancient madman, Paris is a raddled old whore desperately clutching the last shreds of her beauty, New York is brash, vibrant, violent...
Towns?
Towns are alive too.
Something about so many people in such small spaces...
There's something wrong with my town.
Something wrong with Scarborough, Queen of Watering Places.
Something...
It’s like… people who've lived here their whole lives, they don't notice it, or if they do don't care.
Or at least pretend they don’t.
People from away... they laugh about it, make cruel comments about inbreeding during cold Northern winters and try joking away the problem.
It's still there, though.
The men who built the castle, the Angles who built their settlement here centuries before, the Romans who built their watchtower up on the headland before that...
They knew what I mean, what I fear.
What other reason is there that they built where they did?
What were they watching for, who were they guarding against?
Why build such a huge fortress to protect a place of such little importance?
Oh, the historians can say it was to ward off attacks by raiding Norsemen, or protect the North against marauding Scots, or defend our trade routes from those ever-maligned French...
It's all nonsense.
Nonsense.
I discovered the secret by accident, of course- you always do.
I wasn't even looking for anything in the first place- I just stumbled across it.
Tripped and fell, late one night, looked up, saw…
Saw them.
I wish I hadn't.
Now every night I lock my doors and windows, turn all the lights on, build the fire as high as I can...
Anything to keep them out.
This town, crouching on the shore like some grotesque hunchback...
If you look closely, you realise it's only really half.
The rest of it, the true Old Town...
Sometimes you'll see lights in the bay, and you'll tell yourself that they’re fishing boats, or buoys, or anything other than what you know they are.
Sometimes you'll hear someone- some thing- behind you as you walk home from the pub, and you'll quicken your step without knowing why, and you'll slam and bolt the door behind you, you heart pounding in your chest, without ever knowing why.
Sometimes you'll awake from a dream of terrible staring eyes and you'll smell something foul, something rotten, dank and dead, and you'll search high and low, and never find the source of the stench.
People from away, they joke about there being "something in the water", and I want to shriek every time I hear it, want to tell them how right they are, scream at them the utter, shattering, awful truth...
They're in the bay, damn them, the things are in the sea, they've been there since forever, they were here first, they-
Oh, God, the window, they're at my window, they-
*
Watched House Of Wax with king_of_bees last night. He went "eeurgh" a record four times- mostly due to Achilles tendon slicing, but also due to what was done to Jared Padalecki's face in it.
He's also now suggesting I write fanfic about it.
Strange boy...