Inuyasha: Tryst
Original fic: Parlor Trick, by abraxas_ren
Remix title: Tryst [Mrs Higurashi, 400 Words, Rated T], by lye_tea
She’d been lonely for so long.
So, when she met him that day, fateful some might say, it felt so right. It felt so good, like they were meant to meet. And when she agreed to leave with him (back to his place for "a couple of drinks), it seemed like the natural thing to do.
Mrs. Higurashi was not a woman to regret. Mrs. Higurashi was ready to take in the world and live, after so many windowless, widowed years.
So, she allowed him to guide her through the doors and up the stairs and up, up into the inky emptiness (with only the earthy scent of dirt and flowers and an animalistic, emotive heat).
"Just wait here, for a moment," he said, "I’ve been waiting for you for so long."
She smiled in flattery and watched his back retreat, saw the strains of muscle against silk and almost got giddy.
After ten, twenty, thirty minute had gone by and he still wasn’t coming back (but he promised!), that was when she first started getting second doubts. Felt her nerves betraying her again, thought they’d just ran out and ditched her, thought she was going crazy.
Maybe this wasn’t so right, so perfect, so meant-to-be-just happen, all spontaneous and fun and not-caring.
And maybe, this was really, very wrong. And maybe, something was going to happen if she didn’t go.
"Are you there?" she called out.
A stench was starting and her head was aching badly. Mrs. Higurashi sighed one last time and started walking. And Mrs. Higrushi found her feet dangling in mid-air, and found her body dropping.
And there’s a sticky, slippery nest of threads latching onto her skin, clothes, hair. She struggled and wanted to scream, wanted to choke and cry and flee. Out of fear, out of the revulsion rotating in her stomach. And by now, she knew: there is something wrong.
She could see the parlor (lobby) below and realized the ceiling, the plants, the ornaments had been suspended from chains. An illusion (like him, she wanted to say).
Mrs. Higurashi claws her way out. Mrs. Higurashi runs (like a blind bat out of hell) into the streets.
And Mrs. Higurashi is filling her head with shame: that, that thing, that whatever-monster with spidery eyes and intents was not human.
Disgusting.
She wants to cry but just can’t force out the tears.
Remix title: Tryst [Mrs Higurashi, 400 Words, Rated T], by lye_tea
She’d been lonely for so long.
So, when she met him that day, fateful some might say, it felt so right. It felt so good, like they were meant to meet. And when she agreed to leave with him (back to his place for "a couple of drinks), it seemed like the natural thing to do.
Mrs. Higurashi was not a woman to regret. Mrs. Higurashi was ready to take in the world and live, after so many windowless, widowed years.
So, she allowed him to guide her through the doors and up the stairs and up, up into the inky emptiness (with only the earthy scent of dirt and flowers and an animalistic, emotive heat).
"Just wait here, for a moment," he said, "I’ve been waiting for you for so long."
She smiled in flattery and watched his back retreat, saw the strains of muscle against silk and almost got giddy.
After ten, twenty, thirty minute had gone by and he still wasn’t coming back (but he promised!), that was when she first started getting second doubts. Felt her nerves betraying her again, thought they’d just ran out and ditched her, thought she was going crazy.
Maybe this wasn’t so right, so perfect, so meant-to-be-just happen, all spontaneous and fun and not-caring.
And maybe, this was really, very wrong. And maybe, something was going to happen if she didn’t go.
"Are you there?" she called out.
A stench was starting and her head was aching badly. Mrs. Higurashi sighed one last time and started walking. And Mrs. Higrushi found her feet dangling in mid-air, and found her body dropping.
And there’s a sticky, slippery nest of threads latching onto her skin, clothes, hair. She struggled and wanted to scream, wanted to choke and cry and flee. Out of fear, out of the revulsion rotating in her stomach. And by now, she knew: there is something wrong.
She could see the parlor (lobby) below and realized the ceiling, the plants, the ornaments had been suspended from chains. An illusion (like him, she wanted to say).
Mrs. Higurashi claws her way out. Mrs. Higurashi runs (like a blind bat out of hell) into the streets.
And Mrs. Higurashi is filling her head with shame: that, that thing, that whatever-monster with spidery eyes and intents was not human.
Disgusting.
She wants to cry but just can’t force out the tears.