Poetry and drabbles
Just posted two poems and four drabbles for the Write like it's the end of the world!!! challenge @ whedonland and decided that I'll share them with you! Comments are really appreciated!
The days slip by
falling across the red sky.
The dust has long since settled in
demanding payment for every sin.
The redemption that seemed so close
lost in the desert of the pretty pose.
Somehow saving today
but never managing to save the day.
Fighting on the field
with no protection from a shield.
Fighting for the nothing
that’s left of everything.
Loosing the soul,
taking that final bow,
saying one last goodbye
and meeting the morning sky.
As your day slips by.
For Spike, post NFA
She feels it in her bones.
They whisper in her ears.
And slowly the end nears.
For Dru
How the world ended
Charles Gunn
He faces the horde as it runs toward him. It runs and runs but it never reaches him. He’s already dead. Bits if him have died over the years. With his sister, with Cordy, with Fred. And now he’s following them. No thoughts enter his mind in this final moment. Surprising. No life flashing before his eyes. No strong feelings taking over his heart. No fear creeping in. Only coldness and rain. One last rainy day. He doesn’t wonder, if there’s heaven, he doesn’t have time to wonder. He wants to kill one last bad guy before he goes down.
Illyria
Demons, vampires, all around, creatures that dare think they can take her. Her! Illyria! How naïve. She was going to destroy them all. Wesley had gone down, the human was dying but she and the two vampires will stay to the end. They’ll kill them all. They’ll win. Illyria will make sure of that. She never loses. One more down. They were like flies. Insignificant, easy to take on, easy to predict, easy to kill. And she wanted to do more violence. Something flashed. Illyria stopped. The end was coming. The world was going down. But they damn well weren’t.
Angel
He knew this moment will come. He was prepared for it because he saw it for what it was. The end. He’d had his fair share of this world, memories that always haunted him told that and so much more. His soul was screaming at him. Guilt. For Illyria, for her being here. For Wesley, for letting him down. For Lorne, for forcing him to kill. For Spike, for not sending him to have his cookies. For Connor, for leaving him. For Cordy. But there was no way for him to hear his soul because the demon’s growl was too loud.
Spike
It was intoxicating. The smell of the battle. The feel of the rain. The trill was something he’d never felt before. Like in the Hellmouth, only better, because there was noone to worry about, there was nothing to worry about. He was free, he knew it all. The world was going to stay here and keep on going without even knowing about The Apocalypse, everything was going to end in this alley. They were the ones going down. It was going to be messy, and ugly, and scary, and painful and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.