[Fic] "A Place for Shadows"
Title: A Place for Shadows
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: DOGS: Bullets&Carnage (Nill-centric)
Rating: G
Words: 696
Summary:
A/N: Just a little ficlet that's been on my mind for some time.
A Place for Shadows
You have a lot of things on your mind.
I know that your past plagues you, because you just don’t know what is good or true. I’m not sure what happened to me, or how I got here, but I know that things are better now. For me, that is good enough.
For you, it’s not. The ghosts of your past haunt you. I see it in the way that you talk to others. I see it in the way that you talk to Badou, that you don’t want to be associated with people who have accepted their pasts and have since moved on. That even though our pasts are all dark and buried in the underground, your journey still must continue. It makes you angry.
I see it in the way you talk to Naoto, how your eyes wrap around her pale, bare neck. That even though she should be dead by the scar that marks her chest, she’s not. It doesn’t help that she’s a woman, which makes it difficult for you to look at her. Your eyes advert from her direct stare. It makes you angry. I’ve seen you really, really angry.
But, I’ve also seen you when you’re not stewing over something clawing at your back, or something trivial that is made bigger by the weight of the collar around your neck. The church is a large, but empty place. I’m the one that listens to you when you just want to talk. There’s no fear of interruption. I will be the keeper of all your secrets. I hope that you know that even if I could speak, I would absorb your words and stay silent. Really, I don’t have too much to say, or many people to say things to.
It’s the days when you come back that I am the happiest. You always greet me warmly, like you had forgotten about me for a small moment. That’s okay with me. I’m not too certain about what you do, who it is that shoots those bullets at you, or who it is that you do all this for. But, I know you are hurting. I look at you when you talk to Badou or the preacher, but I listen to the language of your face that’s always twisted and tense, your hands that are forever clenched and anxious.
One day, I held your hand in the church, and you smiled at me and told me that I shouldn’t worry or be afraid of the things happening in the outside world. I don’t worry about those things as much as I worry about you. The preacher says that you’re a hollow man, dragging shadows of the past behind you, going deeper into darkness. He says, though, that you can be saved if you find your own way back, but that no one can help you do that. No one but yourself. I think that every shadow must be cast by a source of light. I know there is hope for you.
I don’t like to think too much about it, but sometimes I think about how all of us should be dead. I wonder sometimes the reason you are so angry is because you are still alive. I think these things, and I’m only one person, just a small person in a world full of people. In comparison, I’m surely not as interesting or intriguing as the people that you have met in your life.
But I hope that you will always find me, among this sea of many. I hope you will find me again, not because you pity me, or because it’s some kind of reconciliation for the way you problems with violence. I hope it’s because you can say that I am your family, your home.
Whenever you need to rest, I’ll be here. When your legs are too tired to carry you, and your mind stops racing for a few, serene moments, I’ll be here.
You have a lot of things on your mind. I don’t think that I am one of them, but I do know that you think kindly of me. That is enough, for now.
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: DOGS: Bullets&Carnage (Nill-centric)
Rating: G
Words: 696
Summary:
A/N: Just a little ficlet that's been on my mind for some time.
A Place for Shadows
You have a lot of things on your mind.
I know that your past plagues you, because you just don’t know what is good or true. I’m not sure what happened to me, or how I got here, but I know that things are better now. For me, that is good enough.
For you, it’s not. The ghosts of your past haunt you. I see it in the way that you talk to others. I see it in the way that you talk to Badou, that you don’t want to be associated with people who have accepted their pasts and have since moved on. That even though our pasts are all dark and buried in the underground, your journey still must continue. It makes you angry.
I see it in the way you talk to Naoto, how your eyes wrap around her pale, bare neck. That even though she should be dead by the scar that marks her chest, she’s not. It doesn’t help that she’s a woman, which makes it difficult for you to look at her. Your eyes advert from her direct stare. It makes you angry. I’ve seen you really, really angry.
But, I’ve also seen you when you’re not stewing over something clawing at your back, or something trivial that is made bigger by the weight of the collar around your neck. The church is a large, but empty place. I’m the one that listens to you when you just want to talk. There’s no fear of interruption. I will be the keeper of all your secrets. I hope that you know that even if I could speak, I would absorb your words and stay silent. Really, I don’t have too much to say, or many people to say things to.
It’s the days when you come back that I am the happiest. You always greet me warmly, like you had forgotten about me for a small moment. That’s okay with me. I’m not too certain about what you do, who it is that shoots those bullets at you, or who it is that you do all this for. But, I know you are hurting. I look at you when you talk to Badou or the preacher, but I listen to the language of your face that’s always twisted and tense, your hands that are forever clenched and anxious.
One day, I held your hand in the church, and you smiled at me and told me that I shouldn’t worry or be afraid of the things happening in the outside world. I don’t worry about those things as much as I worry about you. The preacher says that you’re a hollow man, dragging shadows of the past behind you, going deeper into darkness. He says, though, that you can be saved if you find your own way back, but that no one can help you do that. No one but yourself. I think that every shadow must be cast by a source of light. I know there is hope for you.
I don’t like to think too much about it, but sometimes I think about how all of us should be dead. I wonder sometimes the reason you are so angry is because you are still alive. I think these things, and I’m only one person, just a small person in a world full of people. In comparison, I’m surely not as interesting or intriguing as the people that you have met in your life.
But I hope that you will always find me, among this sea of many. I hope you will find me again, not because you pity me, or because it’s some kind of reconciliation for the way you problems with violence. I hope it’s because you can say that I am your family, your home.
Whenever you need to rest, I’ll be here. When your legs are too tired to carry you, and your mind stops racing for a few, serene moments, I’ll be here.
You have a lot of things on your mind. I don’t think that I am one of them, but I do know that you think kindly of me. That is enough, for now.