hc_bingo: The art of subconscious illusion
title: The art of subconscious illusion
characters: Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross, The Academy Is..., Stephen King!
pov: 3rd
rating: PG-13
prompt: nightmares
summary: Brendon and Ryan visit Spencer at the hospital
word count: 504
disclaimer: I own only the nightmare :B
A/N: for hc_bingo - I really had this dream a while ago, only it was me and a friend instead of Brendon and Ryan. The title is of a song by Avenged Sevenfold
“Do you think Spencer will get better soon?” Brendon asks Ryan, entering the hospital building, the smell of medicines and cleaning products immediately filling his nostrils.
“Of course he will,” Ryan scoffs, without looking at Brendon: he doesn’t want to show his concerned look, not to worry the dark haired guy.
They head to the spacious lift, with its metallic walls and white buttons. They reach the fourth floor preceded by a ping: the doors open on bloodstained walls, but nurses and visitors seem not paying attention to it.
“Good afternoon, can I help you?” Stephen King asks from his chair behind the nurses desk.
“Hi, we’re here to visit Spencer Smith, we’d like to know which is his room,” Ryan asks, totally unbothered by King’s presence.
“Yes, he’s in room 692, on the right,” the man replies with what wanted to be a cordial smile but that looked totally creepy.
“Thank you,” Ryan nods, heading in the direction pointed by King, followed by Brendon.
Brendon gets distracted with the contents of a trolley pushed by a cute nurse, and when the two guys turn the corner Ryan disappears.
“Ryan?” Brendon calls perplexed, “Where are you?”
He looked away only a second, his friend couldn’t have gone anywhere.
Some inpatients start exiting their room, looking sickeningly gray-greenish, emaciated, and walking around slightly stooped.
“Oh my god,” Brendon exhales when he recognizes Sisky, Carden, The Butcher and Chizz in the amid the sick people, who’re looking at him with big gloomy eyes. Stephen King is suddenly behind him, giving him advices of what to do.
Brendon sprints back to the lift, pushing buttons blindly, but every floor he ends in has bloody walls and zombie-like people shuffling aimlessly. He finally stops at a floor, uncaring of what he’ll find, and when the doors of the lift open he’s welcomed by a writing made with blood that says, ‘SWITCH THE LIGHTS OFF AND HIDE’: he punches the main switch that is right beside the lift and runs in the closer room, that turns out to be a kitchen furnished in country style, closing himself in with key and latch. Very cleverly, Brendon hides under the table, hoping the long tablecloth will cover him in case someone manages to break in.
He lifts the tablecloth an inch, just enough to peer at the door and see shadows walking behind the closed door -they must have turned the lights back on.
One of the windows in the kitchen silently opens, and a tall lanky man makes his way in easily, thanks to his long legs; he looks around examining the dark kitchen dimly lightened by the lights outside, until he stares at the table. With two long steps he is in front of it and crouches down to take the hem of the tablecloth.
Brendon turns sharply, seeing a greener and even thinner Bill Beckett looking back at him with a weird smile.
Brendon wakes up with a start, still feeling unsettled after the nightmare he just had.
characters: Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross, The Academy Is..., Stephen King!
pov: 3rd
rating: PG-13
prompt: nightmares
summary: Brendon and Ryan visit Spencer at the hospital
word count: 504
disclaimer: I own only the nightmare :B
A/N: for hc_bingo - I really had this dream a while ago, only it was me and a friend instead of Brendon and Ryan. The title is of a song by Avenged Sevenfold
“Do you think Spencer will get better soon?” Brendon asks Ryan, entering the hospital building, the smell of medicines and cleaning products immediately filling his nostrils.
“Of course he will,” Ryan scoffs, without looking at Brendon: he doesn’t want to show his concerned look, not to worry the dark haired guy.
They head to the spacious lift, with its metallic walls and white buttons. They reach the fourth floor preceded by a ping: the doors open on bloodstained walls, but nurses and visitors seem not paying attention to it.
“Good afternoon, can I help you?” Stephen King asks from his chair behind the nurses desk.
“Hi, we’re here to visit Spencer Smith, we’d like to know which is his room,” Ryan asks, totally unbothered by King’s presence.
“Yes, he’s in room 692, on the right,” the man replies with what wanted to be a cordial smile but that looked totally creepy.
“Thank you,” Ryan nods, heading in the direction pointed by King, followed by Brendon.
Brendon gets distracted with the contents of a trolley pushed by a cute nurse, and when the two guys turn the corner Ryan disappears.
“Ryan?” Brendon calls perplexed, “Where are you?”
He looked away only a second, his friend couldn’t have gone anywhere.
Some inpatients start exiting their room, looking sickeningly gray-greenish, emaciated, and walking around slightly stooped.
“Oh my god,” Brendon exhales when he recognizes Sisky, Carden, The Butcher and Chizz in the amid the sick people, who’re looking at him with big gloomy eyes. Stephen King is suddenly behind him, giving him advices of what to do.
Brendon sprints back to the lift, pushing buttons blindly, but every floor he ends in has bloody walls and zombie-like people shuffling aimlessly. He finally stops at a floor, uncaring of what he’ll find, and when the doors of the lift open he’s welcomed by a writing made with blood that says, ‘SWITCH THE LIGHTS OFF AND HIDE’: he punches the main switch that is right beside the lift and runs in the closer room, that turns out to be a kitchen furnished in country style, closing himself in with key and latch. Very cleverly, Brendon hides under the table, hoping the long tablecloth will cover him in case someone manages to break in.
He lifts the tablecloth an inch, just enough to peer at the door and see shadows walking behind the closed door -they must have turned the lights back on.
One of the windows in the kitchen silently opens, and a tall lanky man makes his way in easily, thanks to his long legs; he looks around examining the dark kitchen dimly lightened by the lights outside, until he stares at the table. With two long steps he is in front of it and crouches down to take the hem of the tablecloth.
Brendon turns sharply, seeing a greener and even thinner Bill Beckett looking back at him with a weird smile.
Brendon wakes up with a start, still feeling unsettled after the nightmare he just had.