(no subject)
One of the best parts about summer is that I have enough free time to write. So this is, gods willing, the first of many updates. I wrote this during finals week, posted it up for Heather (she requested it). Fixed it a bit before posting it here.
Title: Nightmare
Fandom: Lost
Rating: G
Word Count: Approx 770
Note 1: Written for Heather. Done in about 30 minutes before class. Edited up recently in 15.
When James dreams, he is assaulted by the sounds and smells and sensations of childhood. He can hear his mother’s voice in the kitchen, singing an old country tune about a two-timing man with devilish blue eyes softly to herself. He can smell the sweetness of something baking in the oven; it is probably another apple pie, his mother loves making those. He can feel the soft breeze caress his chubby cheeks as he plays with his favorite old toy, a green-grey dinosaur that is missing a leg and has an arm that’s only hanging on by a few plastic strings. James’ mother always tells him that they need to buy a new one but James refuses to give up on the sorry looking thing (which he calls Abe when he is alone in his room surrounded by his toys).
There is a voice somewhere, deep in the back of Sawyer’s head around this point in the dream. It is small and it is sad and he can barely hear it; it tells him only one thing and it repeats itself over and over. “Only a dream,” it says, wistfully. It reminds him that he is no longer a boy, that the child’s hands that hold the dinosaur are no longer his. Little James is dead. The man, Sawyer, remains.
And it happens then, just like it always does. There’s a shout and a bang. The pie in the oven is burning suddenly and the scent of the scorched pastry hangs heavy in the air. His mother runs in, her cheeks red and her eyes wide. She says one word, “Hide,” and James obeys. It is a little boy that releases the old plastic dinosaur, but it is a grown man who hides under the bed, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Daddy is coming, Sawyer thinks to himself and his stomach is filled with that familiar heavy dread. He can do nothing in this dream. The voice reminds him of this.
There are two gunshots, one after the other. And then nothing. Sawyer knows they’re dead without having to check, and a part of him wants to get up and get help anyway. But he’s trembling so badly and the fear’s taken such a hold of him that he cannot move. He can only stare as the red pools before him and the scent of burning pie is replaced by that of death and of blood and of an innocence forever lost. And the poor soul under the bed, not quite James but not quite Sawyer, sits transfixed and frightened. Unable to cry, unable to speak. There is only silent horror and the knowledge that even though years will pass, the memories will always be enough to reduce him to a shivering, useless thing.
Sawyer’s eyes snap open then and for a moment, all he can do is breathe and stare up at the beautiful blue sky. The sound of oceans waves and wind blowing through the trees is all that he hears, but it does not calm him. Sawyer wills the dread away and tells himself that he’s sweaty because of the weather and nothing more. In the back of his head, he reminds himself to stop napping in the middle of the day. And then he hears her.
“Sawyer!”
Instantly, a smile brightens his face. It does not quite reach his eyes, though. The fear is still there and it takes him all of his control to push the ugly thoughts aside. “Looking for something, Freckles?” He cannot see her completely; the sun is so bright that he can only make out her silhouette against the baby blue sky.
“Have you seen Jack?” There’s something in her voice, but he does not catch it right away. Heavy with the weight of his dreams, he is not as sharp as he normally is.
Sawyer rolls his eyes, “Y’know, it does something to a man’s ego when a pretty woman like you always comes here looking for someone else.” When Kate fails to come up with a sarcastic remark, Sawyer knows something is off. “What is it?”
“The hatch…” Kate’s eyes are wide. “There was shooting. We need Jack. Now.”
“Who?” Sawyer is sitting up, suddenly alarmed.
“Libby. And Ana Lucia.” She looks down for a moment, unable to finish the thought.
Sawyer rises to his feet. “I saw Jack go down that way earlier,” he points Kate in the right direction as he begins for the hatch. There’s that familiar feeling of dread growing in his stomach and the echo of two shots rings in his ears.
Title: Nightmare
Fandom: Lost
Rating: G
Word Count: Approx 770
Note 1: Written for Heather. Done in about 30 minutes before class. Edited up recently in 15.
When James dreams, he is assaulted by the sounds and smells and sensations of childhood. He can hear his mother’s voice in the kitchen, singing an old country tune about a two-timing man with devilish blue eyes softly to herself. He can smell the sweetness of something baking in the oven; it is probably another apple pie, his mother loves making those. He can feel the soft breeze caress his chubby cheeks as he plays with his favorite old toy, a green-grey dinosaur that is missing a leg and has an arm that’s only hanging on by a few plastic strings. James’ mother always tells him that they need to buy a new one but James refuses to give up on the sorry looking thing (which he calls Abe when he is alone in his room surrounded by his toys).
There is a voice somewhere, deep in the back of Sawyer’s head around this point in the dream. It is small and it is sad and he can barely hear it; it tells him only one thing and it repeats itself over and over. “Only a dream,” it says, wistfully. It reminds him that he is no longer a boy, that the child’s hands that hold the dinosaur are no longer his. Little James is dead. The man, Sawyer, remains.
And it happens then, just like it always does. There’s a shout and a bang. The pie in the oven is burning suddenly and the scent of the scorched pastry hangs heavy in the air. His mother runs in, her cheeks red and her eyes wide. She says one word, “Hide,” and James obeys. It is a little boy that releases the old plastic dinosaur, but it is a grown man who hides under the bed, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Daddy is coming, Sawyer thinks to himself and his stomach is filled with that familiar heavy dread. He can do nothing in this dream. The voice reminds him of this.
There are two gunshots, one after the other. And then nothing. Sawyer knows they’re dead without having to check, and a part of him wants to get up and get help anyway. But he’s trembling so badly and the fear’s taken such a hold of him that he cannot move. He can only stare as the red pools before him and the scent of burning pie is replaced by that of death and of blood and of an innocence forever lost. And the poor soul under the bed, not quite James but not quite Sawyer, sits transfixed and frightened. Unable to cry, unable to speak. There is only silent horror and the knowledge that even though years will pass, the memories will always be enough to reduce him to a shivering, useless thing.
Sawyer’s eyes snap open then and for a moment, all he can do is breathe and stare up at the beautiful blue sky. The sound of oceans waves and wind blowing through the trees is all that he hears, but it does not calm him. Sawyer wills the dread away and tells himself that he’s sweaty because of the weather and nothing more. In the back of his head, he reminds himself to stop napping in the middle of the day. And then he hears her.
“Sawyer!”
Instantly, a smile brightens his face. It does not quite reach his eyes, though. The fear is still there and it takes him all of his control to push the ugly thoughts aside. “Looking for something, Freckles?” He cannot see her completely; the sun is so bright that he can only make out her silhouette against the baby blue sky.
“Have you seen Jack?” There’s something in her voice, but he does not catch it right away. Heavy with the weight of his dreams, he is not as sharp as he normally is.
Sawyer rolls his eyes, “Y’know, it does something to a man’s ego when a pretty woman like you always comes here looking for someone else.” When Kate fails to come up with a sarcastic remark, Sawyer knows something is off. “What is it?”
“The hatch…” Kate’s eyes are wide. “There was shooting. We need Jack. Now.”
“Who?” Sawyer is sitting up, suddenly alarmed.
“Libby. And Ana Lucia.” She looks down for a moment, unable to finish the thought.
Sawyer rises to his feet. “I saw Jack go down that way earlier,” he points Kate in the right direction as he begins for the hatch. There’s that familiar feeling of dread growing in his stomach and the echo of two shots rings in his ears.