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Title: A Torment of Mind, A Tempest Everlasting
Character(s): 1st Year Remus Lupin
Summary: "What's Loony Lupin doing outside?" "Staring at the moon. Again."
Rating: PG
Author's Note: Free write, timed twenty minutes, no revision.
Warnings: None, really.
"A Torment of Mind, A Tempest Everlasting"
Darkness falls, stars above, night sounds abound.
He’s alone, the bottom of his robes and inside his boots wet from moisture.
He shouldn’t be out. He’s following the trail of the moon.
Moon, moon, moonlight. Feel the pull of the moon.
The pock-marked orb lies low, the trees of the forest standing sentry against sky.
Heat stings his skin, he raises his face to it.
The sensation of a million crawling insects under his skin.
Urges he feels, urges he denies.
Teeth clenched together tightly, wanting to bite, tear, chew. Teeth are humming.
Boots slip in mud along the lake. Sliding backwards, down, he feels himself falling. Landing on his back, moon over head.
Moon, moon, moonlight.
He sits up and clenches his fists into the ooze, the mud sliding through his fingers, imagined feeling of prey.
A splash in the distance, a ripple growing ever wider across the span of the lake. Shards of diamonds sprinkled along the surface, glistening, taunting.
Fingers flexing in the mud, imagined claws, digging, ripping, tearing flesh. Skin tightening, bones aching to be released. Senses alert.
Smell, smell, nose to the wind.
Woodsmoke. Pumpkins. Rot. Meat. Amber and orange leaves. Earth, dirt. Blood. Fur.
Teeth, teeth, clench. An insect sighs in the trees above.
Mud underfoot, lake at his toes. So easy to slide towards the water. Down, down, drown. Misery, forsaken. Redemption granted. Requiem held.
Moon, moon, moonlight. Not full. Not yet. Soon.
Character(s): 1st Year Remus Lupin
Summary: "What's Loony Lupin doing outside?" "Staring at the moon. Again."
Rating: PG
Author's Note: Free write, timed twenty minutes, no revision.
Warnings: None, really.
"A Torment of Mind, A Tempest Everlasting"
Darkness falls, stars above, night sounds abound.
He’s alone, the bottom of his robes and inside his boots wet from moisture.
He shouldn’t be out. He’s following the trail of the moon.
Moon, moon, moonlight. Feel the pull of the moon.
The pock-marked orb lies low, the trees of the forest standing sentry against sky.
Heat stings his skin, he raises his face to it.
The sensation of a million crawling insects under his skin.
Urges he feels, urges he denies.
Teeth clenched together tightly, wanting to bite, tear, chew. Teeth are humming.
Boots slip in mud along the lake. Sliding backwards, down, he feels himself falling. Landing on his back, moon over head.
Moon, moon, moonlight.
He sits up and clenches his fists into the ooze, the mud sliding through his fingers, imagined feeling of prey.
A splash in the distance, a ripple growing ever wider across the span of the lake. Shards of diamonds sprinkled along the surface, glistening, taunting.
Fingers flexing in the mud, imagined claws, digging, ripping, tearing flesh. Skin tightening, bones aching to be released. Senses alert.
Smell, smell, nose to the wind.
Woodsmoke. Pumpkins. Rot. Meat. Amber and orange leaves. Earth, dirt. Blood. Fur.
Teeth, teeth, clench. An insect sighs in the trees above.
Mud underfoot, lake at his toes. So easy to slide towards the water. Down, down, drown. Misery, forsaken. Redemption granted. Requiem held.
Moon, moon, moonlight. Not full. Not yet. Soon.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-28 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-28 05:24 pm (UTC)Hence, the free write...