The Event Entire
Here's another fanfic - which is sort of almost a poem. This is what happens when I watch You're Welcome and A Hole In The World back to back.
The prompt at still_grrr was "Tears Down My Cheeks".
The Event Entire
And yet it happens,
Over and again.
The sky is breaking open.
“Dawnie, I have to.”
The last march takes us,
One by one by another,
All we can do is watch.
We fall to duty,
Streets away, the ambush has begun.
“And you fall for it every single time!”
to prophecy,
It’s an urgent, desperate hope.
“There’s a shot - CPR.”
“You have to do it. I have no breath.”
to chance untimely,
Collapsed on a couch, one afternoon.
No chance for last goodbyes.
to heroic choice,
“Picture happy things,”
comes the suggestion. “A lake, candy canes, bunnies…”
“Bunnies. Floppy, hoppy, bunnies.”
to coincidental fate.
A puzzled look of concern.
“Your shirt.”
As each one falls
We gather yet again
And mourn for what we knew would come.
She holds him and asks,
“Would you like me to lie to you now?”
It is our only finish.
It is what we have chosen.
“I’m not asking you to follow me into hell.
Just help send me there.”
A small sob, and in goes the icepick.
Some of us leave to return once more.
“No you don’t,” is the gentle reply. “But thanks for saying it.”
Some of us may not.
“Too bad we’ll never know -
if this is a face you could learn to love.”
He turns, and jumps.
Some of us echo onward.
“This will do.”
Her blue-stained twin gets up and leaves.
But we do not see what will be
Only what is.
“One for the road?” she pulls him in.
A kiss, a ringing phone,
and there’s no-one in the room.
That being tragedy,
We mourn.
He snaps her neck, and sighs.
“I never get tired of doing that.”
We must.
“Close your eyes.”
And the sword goes cleanly through.
For we are the heroes,
And this is our final task.
Crumbling to dust in a rain soaked street.
“You make sure to tell him that.”
There are tears on our faces,
And we stand silent.
The prompt at still_grrr was "Tears Down My Cheeks".
The Event Entire
And yet it happens,
Over and again.
The sky is breaking open.
“Dawnie, I have to.”
The last march takes us,
One by one by another,
All we can do is watch.
We fall to duty,
Streets away, the ambush has begun.
“And you fall for it every single time!”
to prophecy,
It’s an urgent, desperate hope.
“There’s a shot - CPR.”
“You have to do it. I have no breath.”
to chance untimely,
Collapsed on a couch, one afternoon.
No chance for last goodbyes.
to heroic choice,
“Picture happy things,”
comes the suggestion. “A lake, candy canes, bunnies…”
“Bunnies. Floppy, hoppy, bunnies.”
to coincidental fate.
A puzzled look of concern.
“Your shirt.”
As each one falls
We gather yet again
And mourn for what we knew would come.
She holds him and asks,
“Would you like me to lie to you now?”
It is our only finish.
It is what we have chosen.
“I’m not asking you to follow me into hell.
Just help send me there.”
A small sob, and in goes the icepick.
Some of us leave to return once more.
“No you don’t,” is the gentle reply. “But thanks for saying it.”
Some of us may not.
“Too bad we’ll never know -
if this is a face you could learn to love.”
He turns, and jumps.
Some of us echo onward.
“This will do.”
Her blue-stained twin gets up and leaves.
But we do not see what will be
Only what is.
“One for the road?” she pulls him in.
A kiss, a ringing phone,
and there’s no-one in the room.
That being tragedy,
We mourn.
He snaps her neck, and sighs.
“I never get tired of doing that.”
We must.
“Close your eyes.”
And the sword goes cleanly through.
For we are the heroes,
And this is our final task.
Crumbling to dust in a rain soaked street.
“You make sure to tell him that.”
There are tears on our faces,
And we stand silent.