[fic] Sanctuary to Monsters(Claire/Boyd) PG-13
Title: Sanctuary to Monsters
Author: Ersatz Fiction
Characters: Whiskey, Claire/Boyd
Word Count: 139
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: If only they were mine.
Spoilers: Epitaph One. Not Season 2 compliant.
Summery: Only in dreams has Whiskey seen it.
AN:Written forstill_grrr classic horror month using prompt 140 Nightbreed. I have not seen this movie (or read the book). I just read the Wikipedia entry for the film, but it was enough to write this melancholy little thing.
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Whiskey has seen in only in dreams. The ghost town. The safe haven. Gifted by the demon with the curved blade.
They use to talk about it, Before. When the only sounds in the House were made by the two of them, soft footfalls and the frequent cries of passion. Laying together after, lulled by the staccato of his heart, he would talk of what it must be like now, warded against the loss of self. The struggle to stay hidden. He talked of leaving together. Of rebuilding. Of new growth.
He is gone now. The House is still. No one here but the ghosts. The Phantom.
She waits. And dreams. Of uneven streets. Of patchy gardens. A place offering sanctuary to the lost ones, the ones fighting to keep self, the monsters that made it all possible.
Fin
Author: Ersatz Fiction
Characters: Whiskey, Claire/Boyd
Word Count: 139
Rated: PG-13
Disclaimer: If only they were mine.
Spoilers: Epitaph One. Not Season 2 compliant.
Summery: Only in dreams has Whiskey seen it.
AN:Written forstill_grrr classic horror month using prompt 140 Nightbreed. I have not seen this movie (or read the book). I just read the Wikipedia entry for the film, but it was enough to write this melancholy little thing.
---
Whiskey has seen in only in dreams. The ghost town. The safe haven. Gifted by the demon with the curved blade.
They use to talk about it, Before. When the only sounds in the House were made by the two of them, soft footfalls and the frequent cries of passion. Laying together after, lulled by the staccato of his heart, he would talk of what it must be like now, warded against the loss of self. The struggle to stay hidden. He talked of leaving together. Of rebuilding. Of new growth.
He is gone now. The House is still. No one here but the ghosts. The Phantom.
She waits. And dreams. Of uneven streets. Of patchy gardens. A place offering sanctuary to the lost ones, the ones fighting to keep self, the monsters that made it all possible.
Fin