[team three] rushing
Had a dream about people running into the forest to join the fairies, and it kinda stuck so uhhh a short little original piece by my sleepy brain!
"Stay awake!" A faint voice, barely audible through the blood rushing in his ears. Another voice, so sweet, was calling for him, telling him beautiful, beautiful things, and he would much rather listen to that. They promised him anything he ever wanted, and he wanted to be with them. It would be so easy, so, so easy - if not for the ropes tying him down, the oppressive restraints, the hands squeezing at him, the liquids they poured down his throat. “We have to cure it,” they said, and he didn’t know what they could possibly mean.
“Don’t give in!” Again, the voice was like a buzzing fly, a disruption he simply wanted to swat away. He hummed noncommittally in response.
The lovely silhouette appeared in front of him, and he sighed with joy. His love was here, his angel who had been calling to him. Now they could be together, he knew, as soon as he was free of his restraints, then he could run, run, run to the woods and find them, find the fairies with whom he truly belonged. Soon.
“It’s not curable, child,” someone said. “He’s simply another victim of the Outrushing.” And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Silly, silly humans, he thought, am I a victim? I am the only one who sees! I’ve found my true home! The woods where the fairies live, where the food is sweet and the flowers smell like gumdrops, and the wine flows like water, and their voices are music to my ears. That, that is freedom, and I will have it.
At nightfall, his captors slept, but he was wide awake, dreaming of the life he would have, whispering words that were whispered into his mind, repeating and repeating and repeating. Then - a hush. He shivered as something unseen caressed his arm. And then his restraints slipped off, like barely tied pieces of silk. Finally he could move.
Come to us.
“I will,” he whispered into the cold night air.
avantnuit is up!
"Stay awake!" A faint voice, barely audible through the blood rushing in his ears. Another voice, so sweet, was calling for him, telling him beautiful, beautiful things, and he would much rather listen to that. They promised him anything he ever wanted, and he wanted to be with them. It would be so easy, so, so easy - if not for the ropes tying him down, the oppressive restraints, the hands squeezing at him, the liquids they poured down his throat. “We have to cure it,” they said, and he didn’t know what they could possibly mean.
“Don’t give in!” Again, the voice was like a buzzing fly, a disruption he simply wanted to swat away. He hummed noncommittally in response.
The lovely silhouette appeared in front of him, and he sighed with joy. His love was here, his angel who had been calling to him. Now they could be together, he knew, as soon as he was free of his restraints, then he could run, run, run to the woods and find them, find the fairies with whom he truly belonged. Soon.
“It’s not curable, child,” someone said. “He’s simply another victim of the Outrushing.” And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Silly, silly humans, he thought, am I a victim? I am the only one who sees! I’ve found my true home! The woods where the fairies live, where the food is sweet and the flowers smell like gumdrops, and the wine flows like water, and their voices are music to my ears. That, that is freedom, and I will have it.
At nightfall, his captors slept, but he was wide awake, dreaming of the life he would have, whispering words that were whispered into his mind, repeating and repeating and repeating. Then - a hush. He shivered as something unseen caressed his arm. And then his restraints slipped off, like barely tied pieces of silk. Finally he could move.
Come to us.
“I will,” he whispered into the cold night air.
avantnuit is up!