Darkfic: it's good for the soul. Or, you know, not.
My first stab at writing Tom. It seems this was a month for exploration. In this month I've tried a new poetry style, a new writing style, and I've taken a stab at two charaters I've never written before. I'm a little proud of it all :)
Title: Easy to Blame the Dark
Rating: R
Character(s): Tom Riddle
Warnings: ambiguous cannibalism, references to previous character death
Author's Notes: Thanks to arison for the wonderful beta job.
Dedication: To Spessartine because I know you love Tom so. And to bluerose16 because your Tom piece sparked the line from which this piece grew.
He tries to avoid mirrors. Not because of the mirror itself, but what lies within it. Because if he looks at the mirror he might see Him and His eyes scare him. They’re too wild too mesmerizing and he feels like they see right through him. He knows they see into him because He knows everything. But even without the piercing stare he knows he has too many secrets. They lie inside him like tiny little bombs waiting to explode. He knows he can’t keep them all quiet. One day they’ll go off. One by one they’ll shred his insides until his organs resemble the deep splatters of blood on her porcelain white skin. The image haunts his dreams and He laughs. He can hear Him from the bed.
He paints his face white to avoid looking at the darkness within. White on the outside means white on the inside. Except when it doesn’t. Except when the ghosts of his past deeds swell within him like a dark void waiting to swallow him whole. He remembers the slit the knife made in her chest. It was a lipsticked mouth begging for a kiss. And she was his crucifix.
Sometimes he thinks he’s losing it. He looks in the mirror. His face is reflected back at him but he can’t see that. One peek through the hands covering his eyes and He laughs. “You haven’t seen the best of it,” He says, “Just wait.” Deep within he knows He’s right. The darkness will swallow him whole.
It is easy to blame the dark: the mouth of a door,
The cellar's belly. They've blown my sparkler out.
- “Witch Burning” by Sylvia Plath
Title: Easy to Blame the Dark
Rating: R
Character(s): Tom Riddle
Warnings: ambiguous cannibalism, references to previous character death
Author's Notes: Thanks to arison for the wonderful beta job.
Dedication: To Spessartine because I know you love Tom so. And to bluerose16 because your Tom piece sparked the line from which this piece grew.
He tries to avoid mirrors. Not because of the mirror itself, but what lies within it. Because if he looks at the mirror he might see Him and His eyes scare him. They’re too wild too mesmerizing and he feels like they see right through him. He knows they see into him because He knows everything. But even without the piercing stare he knows he has too many secrets. They lie inside him like tiny little bombs waiting to explode. He knows he can’t keep them all quiet. One day they’ll go off. One by one they’ll shred his insides until his organs resemble the deep splatters of blood on her porcelain white skin. The image haunts his dreams and He laughs. He can hear Him from the bed.
He paints his face white to avoid looking at the darkness within. White on the outside means white on the inside. Except when it doesn’t. Except when the ghosts of his past deeds swell within him like a dark void waiting to swallow him whole. He remembers the slit the knife made in her chest. It was a lipsticked mouth begging for a kiss. And she was his crucifix.
Sometimes he thinks he’s losing it. He looks in the mirror. His face is reflected back at him but he can’t see that. One peek through the hands covering his eyes and He laughs. “You haven’t seen the best of it,” He says, “Just wait.” Deep within he knows He’s right. The darkness will swallow him whole.
It is easy to blame the dark: the mouth of a door,
The cellar's belly. They've blown my sparkler out.
- “Witch Burning” by Sylvia Plath