Bridget's Flame JFF week 3 & OrigFic Bingo: Torture
Title: Love and War
Prompt (Bridget's Flame): Lover
Prompt (OrigFic Bingo): Torture
Word Count: 600
Verse: Tick,Tock (Stand alone)
Warnings: None
Characters: Lindsey
Summary: Sometimes revenge is worth its cost.
"A dumpster," sneered the woman with a wrinkle of her speckled nose. They stood at the head of the alley watching as her fiancee shoved the last of several heavy plastic bags into the canister and slammed down the heavy lid. He jumped as the noise echoed off the bricks and froze.
She turned to her companion, a gentleman clad in white, and threw her hands up. "He threw me in a dumpster."
"That he did," the gentleman agreed. "He'll get caught, if it's any consolation."
"A dumpster," she fussed and crossed her arms. Her hawkish brown eyes were back upon her--presumably ex- --fiancee as the man in question continued to stare at his crime. It wouldn't take a fortune teller to make the gentleman's prediction; Richard seemed genuinely surprised at himself, if not particularly mournful.
Then, with a derisive snort, he kicked the dumpster he'd just loaded her mangled corpse into, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked toward them.
"Bethany," said the gentleman as Richard passed through her, "I think it's time to go, now."
"He left me in a dumpster," she repeated for the umpteenth time and crossed her arms over her blood-stained chest. "That's just rude. I won't go anywhere until someone takes me out of there."
"I'm afraid that may not happen for while," the gentleman replied. "We simply don't have the time to wait."
"What's so pressing?" she snapped, "I'm dead. I should think I have all the time in the world." Bethany turned, then, to give him a shrewd stare. At the far end of the alley, a homeless man entered the enclosure and lit a cigarette. "If I'm dead, then who are you?"
The gentleman lifted a single brunette brow at her. He didn't seem used to people addressing him like that, but he stuffed his leather gloved hands into the pockets of his white duster and answered, "You may call me Lindsey. I am your Death."
"Ah." Bethany watched the homeless man settle against a wall near to her impromptu grave and sighed faintly. "I didn't realize this would be quite so personified."
Lindsey nodded. "That isn't unusual."
"What happens if I refuse to go with you?" Bethany asked. The man in the alley had gone to sleep--he hadn't yet noticed the bit of blood dripping down the side of the dumpster. "Limbo? Nothing?"
"You're thinking of haunting your lover," Lindsey stated. "I told you he won't get away with it."
"He threw me in a dumpster!" The woman gestured to the can again, and stomped one of her white nursing shoes.
"It isn't exactly dignified," the gentleman agreed with a hum. After another moment's though, he nodded. "Alright. I'll let you stay... for a time. But the longer you remain bodiless, the fewer choices you'll have when I return."
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"I'm afraid I can't explain until you agree to move on."
"That," Bethany scoffed, "is the worst policy I've ever heard."
"I don't make the rules, Bethany," Lindsey warned. The ghost sighed. Then she nodded, mostly to herself, and brushed non-existent dust off her non-existent scrubs.
"I want to see that bastard to pay. I don't care what it costs."
The gentleman nodded and one hand left his pocket. He placed it on her shoulder and the alley disintegrated into her blood-stained bedroom. Richard wasn't home yet, she realized, and Mr Fluffles, their seven-year-old Siamese, was busy chewing on a bit of meat that she was pretty sure had come from her thigh.
"Fluffles," she snapped, and the cat flew to it's feet, fur raised. Rather than go to her, the animal hissed and ran to hide in the pantry. Bethany sighed. She went to sit on the bed, alone now, and waited for her naughty lover to show himself.
Originally posted at The Mouse Hole.
Prompt (Bridget's Flame): Lover
Prompt (OrigFic Bingo): Torture
Word Count: 600
Verse: Tick,Tock (Stand alone)
Warnings: None
Characters: Lindsey
Summary: Sometimes revenge is worth its cost.
"A dumpster," sneered the woman with a wrinkle of her speckled nose. They stood at the head of the alley watching as her fiancee shoved the last of several heavy plastic bags into the canister and slammed down the heavy lid. He jumped as the noise echoed off the bricks and froze.
She turned to her companion, a gentleman clad in white, and threw her hands up. "He threw me in a dumpster."
"That he did," the gentleman agreed. "He'll get caught, if it's any consolation."
"A dumpster," she fussed and crossed her arms. Her hawkish brown eyes were back upon her--presumably ex- --fiancee as the man in question continued to stare at his crime. It wouldn't take a fortune teller to make the gentleman's prediction; Richard seemed genuinely surprised at himself, if not particularly mournful.
Then, with a derisive snort, he kicked the dumpster he'd just loaded her mangled corpse into, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked toward them.
"Bethany," said the gentleman as Richard passed through her, "I think it's time to go, now."
"He left me in a dumpster," she repeated for the umpteenth time and crossed her arms over her blood-stained chest. "That's just rude. I won't go anywhere until someone takes me out of there."
"I'm afraid that may not happen for while," the gentleman replied. "We simply don't have the time to wait."
"What's so pressing?" she snapped, "I'm dead. I should think I have all the time in the world." Bethany turned, then, to give him a shrewd stare. At the far end of the alley, a homeless man entered the enclosure and lit a cigarette. "If I'm dead, then who are you?"
The gentleman lifted a single brunette brow at her. He didn't seem used to people addressing him like that, but he stuffed his leather gloved hands into the pockets of his white duster and answered, "You may call me Lindsey. I am your Death."
"Ah." Bethany watched the homeless man settle against a wall near to her impromptu grave and sighed faintly. "I didn't realize this would be quite so personified."
Lindsey nodded. "That isn't unusual."
"What happens if I refuse to go with you?" Bethany asked. The man in the alley had gone to sleep--he hadn't yet noticed the bit of blood dripping down the side of the dumpster. "Limbo? Nothing?"
"You're thinking of haunting your lover," Lindsey stated. "I told you he won't get away with it."
"He threw me in a dumpster!" The woman gestured to the can again, and stomped one of her white nursing shoes.
"It isn't exactly dignified," the gentleman agreed with a hum. After another moment's though, he nodded. "Alright. I'll let you stay... for a time. But the longer you remain bodiless, the fewer choices you'll have when I return."
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"I'm afraid I can't explain until you agree to move on."
"That," Bethany scoffed, "is the worst policy I've ever heard."
"I don't make the rules, Bethany," Lindsey warned. The ghost sighed. Then she nodded, mostly to herself, and brushed non-existent dust off her non-existent scrubs.
"I want to see that bastard to pay. I don't care what it costs."
The gentleman nodded and one hand left his pocket. He placed it on her shoulder and the alley disintegrated into her blood-stained bedroom. Richard wasn't home yet, she realized, and Mr Fluffles, their seven-year-old Siamese, was busy chewing on a bit of meat that she was pretty sure had come from her thigh.
"Fluffles," she snapped, and the cat flew to it's feet, fur raised. Rather than go to her, the animal hissed and ran to hide in the pantry. Bethany sighed. She went to sit on the bed, alone now, and waited for her naughty lover to show himself.
Originally posted at The Mouse Hole.