Or Are We Dreamers?
First dent on the fanfic100 challenge.
Title: I Walk This Line
Rating: PG
Character: Elizabeth Weir
Number: 011 Red
Length: 201 words
Summary: Sometimes there isn't a difference.
“One last question before you’re done: have you been having strange dreams lately?”
My dreams? They are full of earthquakes and stars, the city shuddering like a wounded beast and bodies stumbling over steps, dragging themselves away from the violence and dying slow, solitary deaths. I see monsters and peace and everything but the crucial pieces, making decisions that lead to thorn-strewn roads no one would ever walk, never finding that path less taken that should lead to sunrises and endings.
In my dreams I speak, walk, feast on flesh and bones until the sweet alien marrow is tender in my mouth; I trail fingers in still waters and watch rusted gears groaning as they strain to turn. My dreams have doors and pain and the pathetic gratefulness for a headache that reminds me, however cruelly, my blood still pulses, runs through my veins.
It is because of my dreams that I wear red, so that whenever I look down I am reminded to take everything seriously, to treat it with the respect reality deserves and attempt to make sane choices, if I can - because in my dreams, I wear red as well.
“No stranger than usual, I’m glad to say.”
Title: I Walk This Line
Rating: PG
Character: Elizabeth Weir
Number: 011 Red
Length: 201 words
Summary: Sometimes there isn't a difference.
“One last question before you’re done: have you been having strange dreams lately?”
My dreams? They are full of earthquakes and stars, the city shuddering like a wounded beast and bodies stumbling over steps, dragging themselves away from the violence and dying slow, solitary deaths. I see monsters and peace and everything but the crucial pieces, making decisions that lead to thorn-strewn roads no one would ever walk, never finding that path less taken that should lead to sunrises and endings.
In my dreams I speak, walk, feast on flesh and bones until the sweet alien marrow is tender in my mouth; I trail fingers in still waters and watch rusted gears groaning as they strain to turn. My dreams have doors and pain and the pathetic gratefulness for a headache that reminds me, however cruelly, my blood still pulses, runs through my veins.
It is because of my dreams that I wear red, so that whenever I look down I am reminded to take everything seriously, to treat it with the respect reality deserves and attempt to make sane choices, if I can - because in my dreams, I wear red as well.
“No stranger than usual, I’m glad to say.”