Into the Light - Firefly fic - PG
Title: Into the Light
Fandom: "Firefly"
Disclaimer: I did not think up River Tam. I wrote this merely because I love to write.
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 280
Point of view: third
There is a light at the end of the tunnel… such a bright, beautiful light, glorious and gorgeous. She is drawn to it, helpless to escape its’ pull. She floats ever closer, drawn by want.
To claim the light. To touch it. To burn in its’ glow.
To be cleansed of the blood that flows in rivulets down her skin and pools at her feet.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Her satin wings flutter in the tiny breeze and she draws ever closer; the light dances and flickers, beckoning.
Come, daughter, she hears in the wind. Come to me.
Her jagged pieces glimmer in the light, silver and golden, but the crimson still stains her. I am not worthy of you, she says. I am too broken, incomplete. I am shattered. You need someone whole.
No, child. You are what I need. You see.
The words are a balm to her soul and she sighs, wraps them around her like a cloak. Gently held in the wind’s grip, she drifts nearer the warm light.
But the blood still drips, a trail following her to the light. She flutters her soft wings, beats at her skin with torn, trembling hands, and the blood will not stop. Am I failing? she asks, tears building behind her eyes.
No, the voice answers. You are as you were meant to be. My beautifully broken girl.
The light explodes, bathing her with fire, and she shrieks; her wings tear and she plummets to the ground, lands in a pool of cooling blood.
If this is dream, she cannot wake up.
And the light at the end of the tunnel won’t stop shining.
Fandom: "Firefly"
Disclaimer: I did not think up River Tam. I wrote this merely because I love to write.
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 280
Point of view: third
There is a light at the end of the tunnel… such a bright, beautiful light, glorious and gorgeous. She is drawn to it, helpless to escape its’ pull. She floats ever closer, drawn by want.
To claim the light. To touch it. To burn in its’ glow.
To be cleansed of the blood that flows in rivulets down her skin and pools at her feet.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Her satin wings flutter in the tiny breeze and she draws ever closer; the light dances and flickers, beckoning.
Come, daughter, she hears in the wind. Come to me.
Her jagged pieces glimmer in the light, silver and golden, but the crimson still stains her. I am not worthy of you, she says. I am too broken, incomplete. I am shattered. You need someone whole.
No, child. You are what I need. You see.
The words are a balm to her soul and she sighs, wraps them around her like a cloak. Gently held in the wind’s grip, she drifts nearer the warm light.
But the blood still drips, a trail following her to the light. She flutters her soft wings, beats at her skin with torn, trembling hands, and the blood will not stop. Am I failing? she asks, tears building behind her eyes.
No, the voice answers. You are as you were meant to be. My beautifully broken girl.
The light explodes, bathing her with fire, and she shrieks; her wings tear and she plummets to the ground, lands in a pool of cooling blood.
If this is dream, she cannot wake up.
And the light at the end of the tunnel won’t stop shining.