Fic: Torn Out Memories
Title: Torn Out Memories
Summary: He breathes in deeply, only now perceiving what the ink formed on the paper
Spoilers: Up to Human Nature
Rating: None
Word count: 336
Notes: Not betaed, because written about 5 minutes ago. Tell me if this is any good?
Fic Masterlist: Here.
John Smith is a man of his time, dreading to be anything other than ordinary.
He wakes from another of his strange dreams, like every day he gets up quickly to scribble them into his journal. It is a nice, relaxing habit, that writing and drawing while his thoughts drift back to his dream and his eyes out of the window.
The blonde girl had been there again, her lips like velvet against his, making his entire body sing with unearthly energy. There had been fear, death, sorrow and blindingly bright light.
He rubs his eyes, the details already fading from his consciousness like the morning mist. He breathes in deeply, only now perceiving what the ink formed on the paper. There's a man in a military uniform there, handsome and young, grinning like a madman. He turns the pages, finds more images of the stranger between the returning scribbles of gas masks and metal monsters. He sees the man collapsed in a corner, maybe shot, certainly dead as the text suggests.
His eyes drift over the rest of the words squeezed next to the portraits of the soldier. His guts fill with dread when he reads about mourning a loyal companion, his hands shake when he reads about love, friendship and shared goodbye-kisses.
The soldier with his military cap grins at him from the middle of the page, even as John Smith tears the pages concerning him out of the journal. He throws them into the smouldering embers of the fireplace, watching as the pages crumple, then blacken and finally catch fire. He smiles when the image of the soldier turns into ash, leaving no trace behind he ever existed. No trace of that utter indecency concerning Smith's dreams about other men.
He focuses on the image of the blonde girl - Rose, he thinks she's called - refining the strands of hair that obscure her lovely face.
Because John Smith is a man of his time, dreading to be anything other than ordinary.
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dune_drd) wrote,
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