Scarlet Ribbons and Blue Silk - The Boy in the Lake 1/1
Series Title: Scarlet Ribbons and Blue Silk
Fragment Title: The Boy in the Lake (1/1)
Word Count: 221
Rating: M
Warnings: Character death and supernatural themes.
Summary: The boy is dying, but he's not dead, not even with all his bloodied finery of peasant's clothes.
It's difficult to explain this feeling of being dead-yet-alive. The black-haired boy is sinking into the depths of the lake, blood trailing from his body, air bubbling from his mouth as it leaves him. He thinks, for a moment, that the ribbons of scarlet liquid look rather beautiful against the blue of the water, ever darkening as the surface becomes more distant.
Why can't he feel the pain anymore? Only mere minutes ago, the boy had been hacked at with a knife, the cold metal puncturing his body as his dear wife stabbed him to death. It's too much to think of, and the boy closes his eyes, only for a moment you see, only to get his strength back so he can swim to the surface. There's no more air left in his lungs anymore, and the freezing water has ripped apart any hope of survival. He's tired, he's sick of being hunted, and there is peace in this watery grave.
Then someone is yelling, but everything is muffled and how is it that he can hear yelling, distorted by time rather than liquid? It doesn't make sense, but the yelling is clearer now. It's crisp, sharp, panicked, frightened.
Wake up.
And so he does, staring into a dull, painful morning light, seeing for the first time in many years.
******
Woah. I don't think I've written an original story fragment in ages. *pats self on back* Sorry for this...blahness. It's actually from a larger body of work called [data expunged].
JOKING: I have not forgotten your donation!fic, it's just giving me trouble.
Fragment Title: The Boy in the Lake (1/1)
Word Count: 221
Rating: M
Warnings: Character death and supernatural themes.
Summary: The boy is dying, but he's not dead, not even with all his bloodied finery of peasant's clothes.
It's difficult to explain this feeling of being dead-yet-alive. The black-haired boy is sinking into the depths of the lake, blood trailing from his body, air bubbling from his mouth as it leaves him. He thinks, for a moment, that the ribbons of scarlet liquid look rather beautiful against the blue of the water, ever darkening as the surface becomes more distant.
Why can't he feel the pain anymore? Only mere minutes ago, the boy had been hacked at with a knife, the cold metal puncturing his body as his dear wife stabbed him to death. It's too much to think of, and the boy closes his eyes, only for a moment you see, only to get his strength back so he can swim to the surface. There's no more air left in his lungs anymore, and the freezing water has ripped apart any hope of survival. He's tired, he's sick of being hunted, and there is peace in this watery grave.
Then someone is yelling, but everything is muffled and how is it that he can hear yelling, distorted by time rather than liquid? It doesn't make sense, but the yelling is clearer now. It's crisp, sharp, panicked, frightened.
Wake up.
And so he does, staring into a dull, painful morning light, seeing for the first time in many years.
******
Woah. I don't think I've written an original story fragment in ages. *pats self on back* Sorry for this...blahness. It's actually from a larger body of work called [data expunged].
JOKING: I have not forgotten your donation!fic, it's just giving me trouble.