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Rachel (soulfirez) wrote in quiet_requiem,
@ 2003-08-09 00:24:00
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    Current mood: angry
    Current music:Switchfoot; Only Hope

    Mini-fic. PWP
    There's a song that's inside of my soul
    It's the one that I've tried to write
    Over and over again
    I'm awake and in the infinite cold
    But you sing to me over and over and over again


    Am pissed and irritated. It's short.


    Title: Pink Blood
    Rating: PG
    Warning: PWP

    Pink Blood
    It's him. Christopher.

    I sit up at the end of my bed, watching him. Not doing anything, just watching.

    His body flickers like a dying flame. He turns and looks at me. "Ellen."

    I don't respond.

    "Ellen..." He tries to move to me, but finds he can't. Chains materialize and wrap around his arms, pulling him down. Chris stares at me with eyes full of hurt, begging. Pleading. "Ellen..."

    Finally, I reply. "Christopher," I say. Nothing more. Nothing less.

    "Ellen, I'm..." Chains tighten around his neck, and he gasps. "I'm... please, Ellen..."

    He's on his stomach now. Crawling. Crawling to me. Hands seem to shoot out of the bed, clambering, grasping at him.

    Bloody, bloody hands.

    "Ellen... please... forgive..."

    He's near me now.

    "Ellen..."

    I lean forward, and kiss him. His body feels cold, and for an instant he sighs in relief. His body seems to go solid.

    "Chris..."

    "Yes..."

    I pull back from him sharply. "Go to hell."

    He stares, then screams. His scream is sharp, breaking my eardrums, and I lay myself flat on the bed, covering my ears, hoping to escape that horrible, horrible scream. The hands rip out of my blanket and grip him hard, the chains pulling so tight they slash at his skin.

    "Ellen... ELLEN!"

    "Go to hell..." I whisper.

    And he does. And screams as the hands pull his body down; as the chains wrap around him, yanking his ethereal self down; down into the midsts of hell.

    Then... the screaming stops.

    I get up, eardrums burst and bleeding.

    Blood. Blood everywhere.

    I huddle myself into the shredded blankets. And cry.

    The blood dilutes.

    It turns pink.

    Summary? Dead teen murderer tries to return to life. His last chance is his girlfriend. That *points up* is what happens.

    The pink has some significance. If i write the whole story out (fat chance of that), you'll see what I mean.



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