Title: Tunnel Vision
Author: ren
Rating: PG for language, and drugs
Notes: No fic lately, so this is my fifteen minutes of shit
Summary: Or alternate title if you like - 'Why ren avoids
hallucinogenic drugs'
Tunnel Vision
...there's light at the end of this...light and notlight...
there's fire at the end of this tunnel, and
...the walls were bleeding, pulsing tumours foul with the smell
of things rotting and long dead, and
...pressure under his skin, pulsing and God, God, there was
something, the most important thing ever and if he had it
everything would be okay but he'd lost it, he'd forgotten,
and
...there was sound, awful animal noises that tasted like fear,
and
(How long has he been like this?)
...fingernails (his own?) scratched fiery furrows down his
cheeks, hot and jagged and
...burning...?
...there were faces now, staring at him with empty black eyes
and sharp jagged lines of teeth, and
(Has anyone managed to get hold of)
...wailing now, that faded into soft crooning (or moaning?)
that was comforting somehow
(What the hell was in that stuff anyway?)
...and the world stopped circling, because rocking was so
infinitely better, keeping everything in its proper place and
the warm trickle of liquid on his cheeks was oh, heavenly...if
only the voices would stop now, maybe he could think, and
(We've got him, he's on his way)
...remember where he left that one thing, that special thing
that was his spell to keep the dark things away, keep the bad
things away, and
...hands (his own?) that were twisted and clawed and painted
with red like roses (like blood?) and
...he didn't know where or even who he was, only that the world
had shifted somehow, everything shattered like glass and he
swallowed, tasting it and the tearing of his throat, and
(Shit, he's...hurry the fuck up)
...his skin was stretching to meet the flex of bone and he felt
himself melting, rotting from the inside out and his mouth
stretched wide like a yawn (or a scream) and
...hands, all over hands, crawling his skin and despair washed
him, where was it, where was his One Good Thing, and
(He's on his way up now)
...there's fire at the end of this...fire or fire or fire or
fire or
...more hands, cool hands, strong and safe and holding him
together hands, fusing the broken pieces and calming the
shudders beneath the skin, and a voice he knew better than
his own, for all that it was so seldom heard, soothing the
harsh bite of fire and blood and fear and
...and words so sweet in their normality, mundane become
beautiful, lazy and lyrical in his ear and this time the
wetness was tears, and
"You're safe, I'm here..."
...there's light at the end of this tunnel.
End. Phew. Second time's the charm, maybe? Like I was saying
before everything went to shit, this is an AWfully strange
little thing, but I don't care, 'cause it kept the bunnies
happy.
