(no subject)
The stereo clock had been turned off hours ago. The lights had been switched to black, the few small open flames snuffed. There was no light to be seen as he strode about, undetected by the others in the house. He was by himself here, now. No one else awake. No one else knowing. No on else to see this. To try and change it. He was by himself, and that was that.
A small wooden drawer was slid open, revealing small little cylinders with a wick at the end. Red like fire. No. Deeper than fire. Darker than that awful bright orange flicker. They were like blood. Dark. Dangerous. Not to be tampered with expecting no reprecussions. It was funny, he thought - how something so small could pack such energy, such explosive power to someone. How something so small could change things so severely.
They were placed in a figure on the table. No need to hide them, or place them anywhere but right there in the open. Right as he wanted them. Everyone else was asleep. No chance of discovery. No chance of tampering. It was his to do as he wished with, free from anyone else. His to design, his to build. His to set aflame. It was all his, in these late hours of the night. It was all his, and that was that.
They'd been placed correctly, according to his plans. He reached into his back pocket, producing a half empty lighter. He didn't smoke, of course - they were just useful to have around. The pale green shell looked black in the dark, no light to pass through it and show its color. With a sigh, he regretted it'd end like this. Something so promising, something that should've held such joy...but it was over. Regret or not, it'd passed. Its time was at an end. Still...it would've been nice to have someone else there, when it was all finished. Someone to share the last moments with. Someone to share something with.
No one was here, though. No one he needed or wanted to be here now. Everyone else had come and gone and he'd been thankful, but...someone was missing. Someone he never found. Someone he probably would never find. She needed to be here, and wasn't. On this night of all nights he needed the one he'd never met. Some things just can't be helped, he supposes. With an unsteady hand, he flicks fire and light into existance, and touches the wicks with the flame in his hand. No turning back now. He moves fast, lighting all of them. Waiting for the pain to come.
It's done. All lit. All burning down towards their blood red cores in the pattern he designed. And here, in these last few moments, he begins to sing.
"Happy Birthday to me. Happy birthday...to...me. Happy Birth...day...dear....Seth. Hap..py...birth...day....to.............me."
The clock strikes midnight - and that was that.
A small wooden drawer was slid open, revealing small little cylinders with a wick at the end. Red like fire. No. Deeper than fire. Darker than that awful bright orange flicker. They were like blood. Dark. Dangerous. Not to be tampered with expecting no reprecussions. It was funny, he thought - how something so small could pack such energy, such explosive power to someone. How something so small could change things so severely.
They were placed in a figure on the table. No need to hide them, or place them anywhere but right there in the open. Right as he wanted them. Everyone else was asleep. No chance of discovery. No chance of tampering. It was his to do as he wished with, free from anyone else. His to design, his to build. His to set aflame. It was all his, in these late hours of the night. It was all his, and that was that.
They'd been placed correctly, according to his plans. He reached into his back pocket, producing a half empty lighter. He didn't smoke, of course - they were just useful to have around. The pale green shell looked black in the dark, no light to pass through it and show its color. With a sigh, he regretted it'd end like this. Something so promising, something that should've held such joy...but it was over. Regret or not, it'd passed. Its time was at an end. Still...it would've been nice to have someone else there, when it was all finished. Someone to share the last moments with. Someone to share something with.
No one was here, though. No one he needed or wanted to be here now. Everyone else had come and gone and he'd been thankful, but...someone was missing. Someone he never found. Someone he probably would never find. She needed to be here, and wasn't. On this night of all nights he needed the one he'd never met. Some things just can't be helped, he supposes. With an unsteady hand, he flicks fire and light into existance, and touches the wicks with the flame in his hand. No turning back now. He moves fast, lighting all of them. Waiting for the pain to come.
It's done. All lit. All burning down towards their blood red cores in the pattern he designed. And here, in these last few moments, he begins to sing.
"Happy Birthday to me. Happy birthday...to...me. Happy Birth...day...dear....Seth. Hap..py...birth...day....to.............me."
The clock strikes midnight - and that was that.