DARK ANGEL PIECES
29 May 2011 21:55![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skylar0graceThere was a challenge over at Raising Hell called 'Opening Lines' where there were a bunch of opening lines from books/film and they had to be used as opening lines in our own pieces. I've separated them into two lots so that the posts aren't as long.
Snow Falling
We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. Even years later, the escape, and subsequent years, were burned into the back of my mind. I don’t know if I could have forgotten it even if I wanted to. Looking around at the Transgenics around TC, I’d never felt more alive - my unit, my brothers and sisters, had sacrificed themselves for this.
For freedom.
Alec nodded to me as he rushed past and I was on my feet in an instant. We were expecting more Transgenics and although the world had forced us into this prisoned city, it hadn’t stopped the refugees who saw this as the most freedom they’d ever had.
The thing about the snow is that, although it falls, it builds once it hits the ground. Some snowflakes don’t make it but the ones that do build into a sturdy layer upon which others can be built. I wasn’t under any illusions - I knew I was nothing more than a single snowflake that had happened to make it to the ground and that the war probably wouldn’t be over until long after I was dead, but I was one of the many who were creating a place for those that needed it.
As I saw the expressions on the faces of the usually stoic Transgenics who’d just arrived, I knew that it was worth it. Even if I’d been one of those snowflakes who hadn’t made it to the ground but had created a path for the others, it would still have been worth it.
~.~.~
The Artistry of Death
I was 12 going on 13 the first time I saw a dead human being. I’d been curious and my curiosity had led me outside my comfort zone and into the ‘world unknown’ - at least, unknown to me. I’d seen and smelt a lot of disgusting things that morning and thought that it was all the world around me had to offer. I had no idea why everyone had warned me away from these parts of town but I had yet to see any real threat.
When I’d first seen him, I’d thought he was asleep. There’d been people everywhere who had made a shelter out of whatever they’d been able to get their hands on. The man had managed to snag himself a newspaper and I’d been contemplating just how warm that could possibly be as I tried to read the headline on the front page. It was as I was reading it that I noticed - I’d prepared my brain to get ready to read the heading despite the rise and fall of his chest but I hadn’t needed to.
I suppose I knew he’d been dead even as I approached him but I hadn’t wanted to believe it. Or couldn’t. Either way, I approached him with caution just in case it was a trap for unsuspecting rich, white boys like myself but he didn’t move. His lips were blue and his entire face was a deathly shade of white - a phrase I had never fully understood until that moment.
A light breeze whipped around me and gently picked up the newspaper but he still didn’t move. Not even the slightest bit and I realised that rigor must have set in. I tried to approach the situation like a medical examiner would in one of the books I had read but my body didn’t agree and the bile rose before I could stop it. I had enough time to turn my head before my body ejected it. There was a noise nearby and my brain kicked in a ‘fight or flight’ response. Having never been one to fighting, I was really surprised I ran.
I continued running until I was not only safe in my own house, but in my own room. The housekeeper stuck her head around the door and asked if I was alright and I nodded my head dismissively as I tried to forget all about the scene I had just stumbled across. There was something about the colour of his skin, the blue tinge to his lips that struck me as unreal and I hoped I never had to see something like that again.
The bile rose again as I looked at her on the couch, a worried Alec checking her vitals and trying to keep her as warm as possible. I cursed the virus that had made me unable to touch her without dying and tried not to overlap the image of the dead man with Max.
She was alive.
~.~.~
The Toll Of War
I remember the First War. The way the sky burned. The way the city seemed to suddenly plunge into darkness despite the fact that the sun was still up. I hadn’t known what was going on - no one had - but everybody knew one thing for certain: it was something bad. It had only been hours when I saw the first soldier and only a day when the army had followed and tried to restore some semblance of peace.
Ha!
It was war and although our country was at war, the citizens were at war with each other, fighting for whatever ground they could. There was no currency except trade and even in those early days when people had been hopeful we would be back on our feet in no time, money held no value; they were just useless pieces of paper and metal.
The noise in the streets could be utterly deafening but when it was still, my heart stopped in fear. Even the tanks and soldiers made more noise as they moved through the city and the only time silence tightened its grip was when something was truly changing - like the night the upper east side had nearly every single one of its residents murdered mercilessly.
The Second War was worse. Sure, the First War had completely reset the country, taken us from the top dog to the bottom overnight and there had been a huge death toll despite the only real weapon being relatively safe to us physically but the Second War heralded a new age. It was no longer countryman against countryman or neighbour against neighbour - it was good vs evil and we were no longer sure on which side we stood.
I watched as Transgenics battled Familiars and realised suddenly the precarious position we were in. We were Human. Ordinaries. No matter what the outcome, we would suddenly find ourselves at the bottom of the food chain and inexplicably in a new world in which we were no longer the caretakers. Yes, I remember the First War, the way the sky burned and the darkness cried but it was the Second War that would remain forever with me for that was when the world truly changed.
~.~.~
Dream A Little Dream Of Me
The dream is always the same. There’s a woman in a long, white dress running through the forest. I don’t know how, but I know that it’s me even though she looks nothing like me. I stumble, trip and fall over rocks and sticks and it’s not until I’ve done it a handful of times that I realise that my dress is dirty. Not just with mud, but with blood. Lots of blood. I know instinctively that it isn’t mine but I still run an eye over my arms just in case.
There’s a rustle behind me. I don’t know what it is but it frightens me all the same and a deep fear resonating inside makes me gasp. The me in the dream knows what I’m running from, has been trying to outrun it for so long but is so exhausted that’s she more worried than ever to let it find her. I run until my breath is just a serious of painful gasps and then I stop, my back pressed up against a thick tree beside me.
There is a moment when the fog descends around me that I feel the most panicked I’ve ever been in my life. The fog chokes me like ice and I find myself remembering my fall into the ice when I escaped. It settles all around me, sinking into my skin and chilling me to the bone and oddly enough, I’m not at all worried about where this sudden fog has descended from - just that it’s there.
However, it’s the ending that changes. For years I was just running - running and running until I took a breath and it caught in my throat and I woke up gasping. Then one night, just I was about to take that painful awakening breath, I spied a cottage. It was nestled in amongst the trees and had vines and flowers adorning it. It was clearly run down but it looked so homely and like everything I wanted. I was torn about where to go; I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was caught but a part of me didn’t want to stain the picturesque view of the cottage with my bloodied appearance.
An unfamiliar man appears in the garden as he picks a rose. His gaze startles me as I realise he’s holding out the rose for me and I want nothing more than to take up his offer and hide away in the cottage forever but as I pull in a bedraggled breath, it catches in my throat and my decision is torn from me.
Last night was different. As I’m standing there, waiting for the breath that pulls me away from the fear and the calm, I hear a sound and before I can run, a large horse pulls up beside me, its nostrils flaring from exhaustion. The man atop the horse reaches out a hand and I don’t even think for a second before reaching up and allowing him to pull me onto the saddle. As my chest presses against his back and the horse gathers speed, I can feel his heartbeat and for the first time I can breathe. I don’t struggle for each breath and I don’t have the mind-numbing fear about being chased although I know I still am.
We reach the top of a cliff and as I’m looking out over the landscape, he turns around and smiles. It’s that smile that takes my breath and I wake up gasping for air but instead of lingering fear, there is only peace. Until, of course, I realise where I am. I make my way into Command, passing several Transgenics who nod their heads at me as I pass but it’s not until I see the conference table stacked with papers and a handful of surrounding citizens that I stop.
And it’s not until a certain X5 glances up at me, his sparkling hazel eyes catching mine as he smiles, that my breath catches in my throat and I once again feel that sense of peace.
| Snow Falling | We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. |
| The Artistry of Death | I was 12 going on 13 the first time I saw a dead human being. |
| The Toll Of War | I remember the First War. The way the sky burned. |
| Dream A Little Dream Of Me | The dream is always the same. |
Snow Falling
We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. Even years later, the escape, and subsequent years, were burned into the back of my mind. I don’t know if I could have forgotten it even if I wanted to. Looking around at the Transgenics around TC, I’d never felt more alive - my unit, my brothers and sisters, had sacrificed themselves for this.
For freedom.
Alec nodded to me as he rushed past and I was on my feet in an instant. We were expecting more Transgenics and although the world had forced us into this prisoned city, it hadn’t stopped the refugees who saw this as the most freedom they’d ever had.
The thing about the snow is that, although it falls, it builds once it hits the ground. Some snowflakes don’t make it but the ones that do build into a sturdy layer upon which others can be built. I wasn’t under any illusions - I knew I was nothing more than a single snowflake that had happened to make it to the ground and that the war probably wouldn’t be over until long after I was dead, but I was one of the many who were creating a place for those that needed it.
As I saw the expressions on the faces of the usually stoic Transgenics who’d just arrived, I knew that it was worth it. Even if I’d been one of those snowflakes who hadn’t made it to the ground but had created a path for the others, it would still have been worth it.
The Artistry of Death
I was 12 going on 13 the first time I saw a dead human being. I’d been curious and my curiosity had led me outside my comfort zone and into the ‘world unknown’ - at least, unknown to me. I’d seen and smelt a lot of disgusting things that morning and thought that it was all the world around me had to offer. I had no idea why everyone had warned me away from these parts of town but I had yet to see any real threat.
When I’d first seen him, I’d thought he was asleep. There’d been people everywhere who had made a shelter out of whatever they’d been able to get their hands on. The man had managed to snag himself a newspaper and I’d been contemplating just how warm that could possibly be as I tried to read the headline on the front page. It was as I was reading it that I noticed - I’d prepared my brain to get ready to read the heading despite the rise and fall of his chest but I hadn’t needed to.
I suppose I knew he’d been dead even as I approached him but I hadn’t wanted to believe it. Or couldn’t. Either way, I approached him with caution just in case it was a trap for unsuspecting rich, white boys like myself but he didn’t move. His lips were blue and his entire face was a deathly shade of white - a phrase I had never fully understood until that moment.
A light breeze whipped around me and gently picked up the newspaper but he still didn’t move. Not even the slightest bit and I realised that rigor must have set in. I tried to approach the situation like a medical examiner would in one of the books I had read but my body didn’t agree and the bile rose before I could stop it. I had enough time to turn my head before my body ejected it. There was a noise nearby and my brain kicked in a ‘fight or flight’ response. Having never been one to fighting, I was really surprised I ran.
I continued running until I was not only safe in my own house, but in my own room. The housekeeper stuck her head around the door and asked if I was alright and I nodded my head dismissively as I tried to forget all about the scene I had just stumbled across. There was something about the colour of his skin, the blue tinge to his lips that struck me as unreal and I hoped I never had to see something like that again.
The bile rose again as I looked at her on the couch, a worried Alec checking her vitals and trying to keep her as warm as possible. I cursed the virus that had made me unable to touch her without dying and tried not to overlap the image of the dead man with Max.
She was alive.
The Toll Of War
I remember the First War. The way the sky burned. The way the city seemed to suddenly plunge into darkness despite the fact that the sun was still up. I hadn’t known what was going on - no one had - but everybody knew one thing for certain: it was something bad. It had only been hours when I saw the first soldier and only a day when the army had followed and tried to restore some semblance of peace.
Ha!
It was war and although our country was at war, the citizens were at war with each other, fighting for whatever ground they could. There was no currency except trade and even in those early days when people had been hopeful we would be back on our feet in no time, money held no value; they were just useless pieces of paper and metal.
The noise in the streets could be utterly deafening but when it was still, my heart stopped in fear. Even the tanks and soldiers made more noise as they moved through the city and the only time silence tightened its grip was when something was truly changing - like the night the upper east side had nearly every single one of its residents murdered mercilessly.
The Second War was worse. Sure, the First War had completely reset the country, taken us from the top dog to the bottom overnight and there had been a huge death toll despite the only real weapon being relatively safe to us physically but the Second War heralded a new age. It was no longer countryman against countryman or neighbour against neighbour - it was good vs evil and we were no longer sure on which side we stood.
I watched as Transgenics battled Familiars and realised suddenly the precarious position we were in. We were Human. Ordinaries. No matter what the outcome, we would suddenly find ourselves at the bottom of the food chain and inexplicably in a new world in which we were no longer the caretakers. Yes, I remember the First War, the way the sky burned and the darkness cried but it was the Second War that would remain forever with me for that was when the world truly changed.
Dream A Little Dream Of Me
The dream is always the same. There’s a woman in a long, white dress running through the forest. I don’t know how, but I know that it’s me even though she looks nothing like me. I stumble, trip and fall over rocks and sticks and it’s not until I’ve done it a handful of times that I realise that my dress is dirty. Not just with mud, but with blood. Lots of blood. I know instinctively that it isn’t mine but I still run an eye over my arms just in case.
There’s a rustle behind me. I don’t know what it is but it frightens me all the same and a deep fear resonating inside makes me gasp. The me in the dream knows what I’m running from, has been trying to outrun it for so long but is so exhausted that’s she more worried than ever to let it find her. I run until my breath is just a serious of painful gasps and then I stop, my back pressed up against a thick tree beside me.
There is a moment when the fog descends around me that I feel the most panicked I’ve ever been in my life. The fog chokes me like ice and I find myself remembering my fall into the ice when I escaped. It settles all around me, sinking into my skin and chilling me to the bone and oddly enough, I’m not at all worried about where this sudden fog has descended from - just that it’s there.
However, it’s the ending that changes. For years I was just running - running and running until I took a breath and it caught in my throat and I woke up gasping. Then one night, just I was about to take that painful awakening breath, I spied a cottage. It was nestled in amongst the trees and had vines and flowers adorning it. It was clearly run down but it looked so homely and like everything I wanted. I was torn about where to go; I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was caught but a part of me didn’t want to stain the picturesque view of the cottage with my bloodied appearance.
An unfamiliar man appears in the garden as he picks a rose. His gaze startles me as I realise he’s holding out the rose for me and I want nothing more than to take up his offer and hide away in the cottage forever but as I pull in a bedraggled breath, it catches in my throat and my decision is torn from me.
Last night was different. As I’m standing there, waiting for the breath that pulls me away from the fear and the calm, I hear a sound and before I can run, a large horse pulls up beside me, its nostrils flaring from exhaustion. The man atop the horse reaches out a hand and I don’t even think for a second before reaching up and allowing him to pull me onto the saddle. As my chest presses against his back and the horse gathers speed, I can feel his heartbeat and for the first time I can breathe. I don’t struggle for each breath and I don’t have the mind-numbing fear about being chased although I know I still am.
We reach the top of a cliff and as I’m looking out over the landscape, he turns around and smiles. It’s that smile that takes my breath and I wake up gasping for air but instead of lingering fear, there is only peace. Until, of course, I realise where I am. I make my way into Command, passing several Transgenics who nod their heads at me as I pass but it’s not until I see the conference table stacked with papers and a handful of surrounding citizens that I stop.
And it’s not until a certain X5 glances up at me, his sparkling hazel eyes catching mine as he smiles, that my breath catches in my throat and I once again feel that sense of peace.
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no subject
Date: 29 May 2011 14:02 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 May 2011 13:59 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 May 2011 04:50 (UTC)You use of imagery is incredible in these pieces. I love the one from Logan's POV, but of course I enjoyed all of them.
no subject
Date: 30 May 2011 14:00 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 May 2011 23:57 (UTC)<3
no subject
Date: 31 May 2011 01:59 (UTC)