Never Forgive Me, Never Forget Me [1a/??]
anonymous
July 6 2009, 13:44:54 UTC
"Arthur."
That voice.
"Arthur."
I know that voice.
"Where are you, Arthur?"
I'm right here.
"Come back to me."
...Where?
The closer to the voice he got, however, the more confused he felt himself becoming. He couldn't pinpoint where the owner of the voice came from but he knew that had to find something tangible to hold on to. Vaguely, he knew that he shouldn't be floating. It was against all laws of physics but he was here, suspended in nothing. No wind, no strings, no other weight that was holding him up. He found it unsettling, it shouldn't feel right. Arthur couldn't see anything either; maybe he had closed his eyes at some point, so he tried to open them.
And he wished that he hadn't opened them at all.
He was suddenly standing on solid ground. Arthur couldn't breathe, he coughed and choked; there was smoke everywhere. The calm atmosphere that came with the voice had suddenly vanished and in it's place, a world that seemed to be set ablaze. His senses were attacked with the foul smell of burning flesh and his eyes burned with it. Shielding his eyes, he tried to look around and realized with some familiarity that it was a town. Arthur froze, eyes wide and unblinking. He knew this town. It's where he spent his earliest childhood memories.
But now the houses were towers of fire and even the sky that used to be so clear was now painted black and red. The town he used to know was now being devoured by flames and for a moment, he just wanted everything to stop. Just stop. Arthur tried to cover his nose, trying to lessen the smoke that was filling his lungs; it was no less easy to breathe than to move around, the buildings all looked like they would cave in at any minute. How in bloody hell could he find a bolt-hole in a place like this? He could barely see anything in front of him because of all the smoke.
Then he heard the screams. The air was filled with the mixture of screams of people dying and something else, something inhuman. Thick white fog was sweeping across the town, engulfing the ruined buildings and everything along it's path. The sight made Arthur's hairs stand on end and a sudden feeling of despair launched itself in the pit of his stomach. The fog was different from the usual humid weather of London, it looked like it was almost alive and the fact that things it 'consumed' disappeared underneath it. What in God's name was happening?
"Ar..thur" The voice spoke with such despair.
Arthur faltered, stopping instinctively as he heard the sound; it was that voice again but now it was twisting in agony. He could hear it clearly over the screams of others. The voice screamed in pain and Arthur felt his blood run cold with a feeling he hated the most. Helplessness.
His breaths panted out one by one, heartbeat erratic while his body buzzed with adrenaline. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to get out of there. But he was surprised when his feet moved on their own accord, the desire to look for that person had overcome his initial fear of the shadows and the flames. He turned to a corner, entering the high-street, listening closely and trying to tune out all the other noises, trying to concentrate on that voice but it was difficult to focus when he noticed that the fog was becoming larger with every house, tree and corpse they ate. Bloody hell. "Where are you?" He grit his teeth and tried to call out but it came out as more of a choked cough than anything else. Ruined houses flashed past him when he started running from the flames. "Bugger," he muttered, stopping when he saw a movement in the fire from the corner of his eye. Now that he peered harder, though, he was sure he could make out a shape, a silhouette of a person. Of a child.
The flames roared and Arthur feel it licking at his skin. He ran.
That voice.
"Arthur."
I know that voice.
"Where are you, Arthur?"
I'm right here.
"Come back to me."
...Where?
The closer to the voice he got, however, the more confused he felt himself becoming. He couldn't pinpoint where the owner of the voice came from but he knew that had to find something tangible to hold on to. Vaguely, he knew that he shouldn't be floating. It was against all laws of physics but he was here, suspended in nothing. No wind, no strings, no other weight that was holding him up. He found it unsettling, it shouldn't feel right. Arthur couldn't see anything either; maybe he had closed his eyes at some point, so he tried to open them.
And he wished that he hadn't opened them at all.
He was suddenly standing on solid ground. Arthur couldn't breathe, he coughed and choked; there was smoke everywhere. The calm atmosphere that came with the voice had suddenly vanished and in it's place, a world that seemed to be set ablaze. His senses were attacked with the foul smell of burning flesh and his eyes burned with it. Shielding his eyes, he tried to look around and realized with some familiarity that it was a town. Arthur froze, eyes wide and unblinking. He knew this town. It's where he spent his earliest childhood memories.
But now the houses were towers of fire and even the sky that used to be so clear was now painted black and red. The town he used to know was now being devoured by flames and for a moment, he just wanted everything to stop. Just stop. Arthur tried to cover his nose, trying to lessen the smoke that was filling his lungs; it was no less easy to breathe than to move around, the buildings all looked like they would cave in at any minute. How in bloody hell could he find a bolt-hole in a place like this? He could barely see anything in front of him because of all the smoke.
Then he heard the screams. The air was filled with the mixture of screams of people dying and something else, something inhuman. Thick white fog was sweeping across the town, engulfing the ruined buildings and everything along it's path. The sight made Arthur's hairs stand on end and a sudden feeling of despair launched itself in the pit of his stomach. The fog was different from the usual humid weather of London, it looked like it was almost alive and the fact that things it 'consumed' disappeared underneath it. What in God's name was happening?
"Ar..thur" The voice spoke with such despair.
Arthur faltered, stopping instinctively as he heard the sound; it was that voice again but now it was twisting in agony. He could hear it clearly over the screams of others. The voice screamed in pain and Arthur felt his blood run cold with a feeling he hated the most. Helplessness.
His breaths panted out one by one, heartbeat erratic while his body buzzed with adrenaline. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to get out of there. But he was surprised when his feet moved on their own accord, the desire to look for that person had overcome his initial fear of the shadows and the flames. He turned to a corner, entering the high-street, listening closely and trying to tune out all the other noises, trying to concentrate on that voice but it was difficult to focus when he noticed that the fog was becoming larger with every house, tree and corpse they ate. Bloody hell. "Where are you?" He grit his teeth and tried to call out but it came out as more of a choked cough than anything else. Ruined houses flashed past him when he started running from the flames. "Bugger," he muttered, stopping when he saw a movement in the fire from the corner of his eye. Now that he peered harder, though, he was sure he could make out a shape, a silhouette of a person. Of a child.
The flames roared and Arthur feel it licking at his skin. He ran.
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