[Fic] fix it up so it will work again
Title: fix it up so it will work again
Characters: Abe Sapien
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~550
Prompt: poltergeist
Summary: Abe has a case.
AN:: The literature I read indicated that poltergeists might be the product of angry teenagers with excess mental energy. Obviously, I ignored the literature.
It is dark here. I don't like the darkness. But I must stay. He told me to stay.
==
Upon his arrival, Abe Sapien had thought that this would be a simple in and out case. Find the pranksters who had been throwing bits of trash around the abandoned house at the edge of town, prove their involvement, then get home in time for supper. That thought lasted until the moment Abe sets foot inside the old Lancaster house.
There is something wrong with this place. There is a layer of dust over every surface, thick enough that Abe's feet leave clear tracks across the floor, and the aged floorboards creak every time he takes a step. Those aspects of the environment could be ignored as simple products of neglect, but for the sensation of pressure squeezing ever so gently at Abe's body. His skin feels slightly too small and his tongue slightly too big for his mouth. The feeling lingers in the too-still air, its source unidentifiable, yet disquieting all the same.
"How curious."
Having ascertained the necessity of his presence, Abe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he takes off his glove. It is with a certain reverence that he caresses the banister of the staircase with his bare palm. Reading the past is so very intrusive, even if it is for a good reason.
==
"Be good," He said, "and wait for Me to come back. I will come back."
It has been so long, though. So very, very long. He is not back. And it is very dark.
==
Moments later, Abe's eyes snap open, just in time for him to duck out of the way of the lamp that soars through the air where his head had been. He swerves and tilts out of the way of several mismatched shoes and a pair of bookends before he looks to the top of the stairs and shouts, "Stop!", eyes flashing.
"You know what I'm going to tell you."
The objects float in the air, as if unsure where they are meant to be going. Abe hesitates, then murmurs in a much quieter tone.
"He's not coming back."
The apologetic air he had assumed must not have been very comforting. Several plates smash into the walls in quick succession and cutlery sweeps through the air, studding the railing with steak knives as ominous creaking noises sound from upstairs. Hastily, for the prospect of getting to second base with a king-sized bed is never pleasant, Abe starts rooting through his bag.
"Wait! He's not coming back, but, ah..." He pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen, swiftly scrawling out a circle of symbols in red ink. "I can send you to him."
Suddenly the creaking stops and the feeling of upset seems to waver into curiosity. Taking that as his cue, Abe knicks his finger with his pocket knife and lets a drop of his blood fall onto the center of his sigil.
"There."
Nothing about the room changes, but as his blood soaks into the paper, the heavy presence in the room disappears so quickly that it leaves Abe reeling. Glass shatters on the floor behind him, but he takes no notice of it as he sinks to his knees in relief.
"Rest in peace, friend."
After several heartbeats, Abe stands. As he leaves, the sun catches his eyes, blinding him for a moment. When he blinks away the glare, the spots in his vision leave him with the impression of bright eyes and a wagging tail.
==
It is light now. He is here and all is well.
I am happy.
Characters: Abe Sapien
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~550
Prompt: poltergeist
Summary: Abe has a case.
AN:: The literature I read indicated that poltergeists might be the product of angry teenagers with excess mental energy. Obviously, I ignored the literature.
It is dark here. I don't like the darkness. But I must stay. He told me to stay.
==
Upon his arrival, Abe Sapien had thought that this would be a simple in and out case. Find the pranksters who had been throwing bits of trash around the abandoned house at the edge of town, prove their involvement, then get home in time for supper. That thought lasted until the moment Abe sets foot inside the old Lancaster house.
There is something wrong with this place. There is a layer of dust over every surface, thick enough that Abe's feet leave clear tracks across the floor, and the aged floorboards creak every time he takes a step. Those aspects of the environment could be ignored as simple products of neglect, but for the sensation of pressure squeezing ever so gently at Abe's body. His skin feels slightly too small and his tongue slightly too big for his mouth. The feeling lingers in the too-still air, its source unidentifiable, yet disquieting all the same.
"How curious."
Having ascertained the necessity of his presence, Abe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he takes off his glove. It is with a certain reverence that he caresses the banister of the staircase with his bare palm. Reading the past is so very intrusive, even if it is for a good reason.
==
"Be good," He said, "and wait for Me to come back. I will come back."
It has been so long, though. So very, very long. He is not back. And it is very dark.
==
Moments later, Abe's eyes snap open, just in time for him to duck out of the way of the lamp that soars through the air where his head had been. He swerves and tilts out of the way of several mismatched shoes and a pair of bookends before he looks to the top of the stairs and shouts, "Stop!", eyes flashing.
"You know what I'm going to tell you."
The objects float in the air, as if unsure where they are meant to be going. Abe hesitates, then murmurs in a much quieter tone.
"He's not coming back."
The apologetic air he had assumed must not have been very comforting. Several plates smash into the walls in quick succession and cutlery sweeps through the air, studding the railing with steak knives as ominous creaking noises sound from upstairs. Hastily, for the prospect of getting to second base with a king-sized bed is never pleasant, Abe starts rooting through his bag.
"Wait! He's not coming back, but, ah..." He pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen, swiftly scrawling out a circle of symbols in red ink. "I can send you to him."
Suddenly the creaking stops and the feeling of upset seems to waver into curiosity. Taking that as his cue, Abe knicks his finger with his pocket knife and lets a drop of his blood fall onto the center of his sigil.
"There."
Nothing about the room changes, but as his blood soaks into the paper, the heavy presence in the room disappears so quickly that it leaves Abe reeling. Glass shatters on the floor behind him, but he takes no notice of it as he sinks to his knees in relief.
"Rest in peace, friend."
After several heartbeats, Abe stands. As he leaves, the sun catches his eyes, blinding him for a moment. When he blinks away the glare, the spots in his vision leave him with the impression of bright eyes and a wagging tail.
==
It is light now. He is here and all is well.
I am happy.