Trust. Write a ficlet on the theme of "trust."
He stared at the poster, an old cast off from the 1990s: TRUST NO ONE. The green lettering on black background made a stark contrast for the words. Vachon could probably count on one hand when he actually had ever trusted anyone. At this point including anything from his fleeting mortal life would have been a drop making no splash in the bucket of his life so he disregarded those memories.
Stepping off the curb into the deserted street, the wet pavement reflecting the lamp post light as a soft glow, his steps echoed his lonely journey through a momentary playground from a time gone by. The glimpses of what had been simply reminded him of the times when he was disappointed and equally of times when he knew he had instilled that same sense within the heart of another.
The city was a ghost town; one with specters of intimate moments shared between ships that pass in the night. The shadows of remembering danced within his mind: her blonde hair piled high but with spirals of loose curls swirling gently, framing her face and her pleading eyes.
Had she trusted him to do her bidding? She had no reason to, since their meeting was chance and they would likely never see each other again. Can a person trust a stranger that much, to ask such a thing of him? Does the shroud of desperation blind a person to reality?
Vachon knew, non-the-less, that in his decision to alter her request to what he believed to be a better fate he had broken a trust. Yes, his Urs, his beautiful daughter of the night, never allowed him to see the betrayal she felt except that one time.
The Raven was closed, a shell of its old self, with the silent curtain of chains still hanging between the bar and the stage. More traces of betrayal floated up to the surface as the ghosts of lost souls clamored for attention. If one listened, they could be heard. Running his fingers over the dusty surface of the bar, Vachon recalled the night he walked from the night crawler's roost for the last time.
His own trust had been torn to shreds within the moment he had gone down the alley following the sounds of a whimpering child. Vachon knew he had changed, or had he? Would he not have gone before Tracy came into his life? Of what consequence was it now that it lay restlessly in the past? None, Vachon knew. The clarity of that instant in time was startling. The child, huddled in the alley morphed into a raging ancient horror, long nails grazing Vachon's face, her hand grabbing his own, forcing him to the ground then descending upon him, her fangs sinking into him, even as his own master's had done once. What this grotesque monster infused Vachon with was an unbearable pleasure of slaughter and flowing blood.
Another stranger trusted; another betrayal played. Javier Vachon sat down in the quiet, wondering how he might have gotten the one other person who counted the most to trust him enough to make a go of it with him, even as their differences starkly presented the improbability of their situation. Tracy had put her finger on it. The evil within him kept her away, muting her desire for him.
Leaving the club, taking flight, Vachon flew from the phantoms of that time long ago and far away, solemnity his only companion.
Stepping off the curb into the deserted street, the wet pavement reflecting the lamp post light as a soft glow, his steps echoed his lonely journey through a momentary playground from a time gone by. The glimpses of what had been simply reminded him of the times when he was disappointed and equally of times when he knew he had instilled that same sense within the heart of another.
The city was a ghost town; one with specters of intimate moments shared between ships that pass in the night. The shadows of remembering danced within his mind: her blonde hair piled high but with spirals of loose curls swirling gently, framing her face and her pleading eyes.
Had she trusted him to do her bidding? She had no reason to, since their meeting was chance and they would likely never see each other again. Can a person trust a stranger that much, to ask such a thing of him? Does the shroud of desperation blind a person to reality?
Vachon knew, non-the-less, that in his decision to alter her request to what he believed to be a better fate he had broken a trust. Yes, his Urs, his beautiful daughter of the night, never allowed him to see the betrayal she felt except that one time.
The Raven was closed, a shell of its old self, with the silent curtain of chains still hanging between the bar and the stage. More traces of betrayal floated up to the surface as the ghosts of lost souls clamored for attention. If one listened, they could be heard. Running his fingers over the dusty surface of the bar, Vachon recalled the night he walked from the night crawler's roost for the last time.
His own trust had been torn to shreds within the moment he had gone down the alley following the sounds of a whimpering child. Vachon knew he had changed, or had he? Would he not have gone before Tracy came into his life? Of what consequence was it now that it lay restlessly in the past? None, Vachon knew. The clarity of that instant in time was startling. The child, huddled in the alley morphed into a raging ancient horror, long nails grazing Vachon's face, her hand grabbing his own, forcing him to the ground then descending upon him, her fangs sinking into him, even as his own master's had done once. What this grotesque monster infused Vachon with was an unbearable pleasure of slaughter and flowing blood.
Another stranger trusted; another betrayal played. Javier Vachon sat down in the quiet, wondering how he might have gotten the one other person who counted the most to trust him enough to make a go of it with him, even as their differences starkly presented the improbability of their situation. Tracy had put her finger on it. The evil within him kept her away, muting her desire for him.
Leaving the club, taking flight, Vachon flew from the phantoms of that time long ago and far away, solemnity his only companion.