Spike (i_wannadance) wrote in blood_red_sky, @ 2011-08-29 21:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | spike |
laugh, laugh, I nearly died (open)
He sat curled against a tree, the tree closest to the fifth gate.
He was balled up into himself, like a child, combat boots half buried by old leaves and dirt, black duster curled underneath him. His head was down, cradled by his hands. He'd been pulling at his hair.
There were marks on his neck and on his chest. The top of his t-shirt was torn.
Spike had tried to claw out his soul. He'd tried more than once.
Now he fluctuated between crying and laughing as he sat here, rocking back and forth.
He'd been in Africa. That was the last thing he remembered. And the bright light. And now he was... where was here? There were these gate... things. And sounds, everywhere. Laughter. Laughter of the dead.
He knew they were dead because he could see them. Just like he could see all of his victims, suddenly. Every single one.
"I've been to Africa, lookin' for my soul," he sang. "And I feel like an actor, lookin' for a role..."