clara llewellyn set fire to the rain. (claraty) wrote in invol_rpg, @ 2013-01-14 11:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! narrative, clara llewellyn |
WHO: Clara Llewellyn.
WHAT: Why does Clara ever bother sleeping?
WHEN: Around the same time as the fire drill, 13 Jan.
WHERE: Her room.
WARNINGS: None.
STATUS: Complete.
Hot, crackling flames danced in the palm of her hand, leaving her with familiar and pleasant tingles on her skin, in her veins and arteries, in the marrow of her bones. She couldn't turn her eyes away from the spectacle as it glowed a warm red, orange, yellow hue on her skin, radiating in the darkness. She didn't want to. It was comforting, her crutch in this middle of nowhere as a darkness pressed in around her. The stars above had blinked out of existence, no voices called back when she shouted out the names of everyone she loved, everyone she cared about. As she sunk to her knees, they fell onto the soft cushioning of a rug -- no, fur -- no, a bear skin. The glow of the fire revealed wooden floors, wooden walls with animal heads glaring down menacingly at her. "Clara," sang out the voice of her youngest brother. "Clara, Clara, Clara!" The disembodied laughter of a child floated around her. "Why don't you come home? Don't you love me anymore?" A shadowy figure shifted in front of her. "Do you remember what I look like? What I sound like?" It walked closer. "I don't remember you, Clara. No one remembers you." She tried to object, but her voice had been stolen from her, ripped away so that she couldn't utter a sound. The figure moved into the glow of her firelight, dark mop of hair, pale, mocking face, serene smile. The flames balled into a weapon and flew across the room into his body. He screeched, batting the flames away protruding a gun and shouting in a Canadian accent. Bullets rained all around her, but every time she tried to take a step, all she could see was blood and wounds and limbs and corpses with burns and blistered skin. "This was all you," they said. "Your fault. You did this." The sound of bullets grew louder and louder, more and more insistent, wailing urgently for her to take notice until they no longer sounded like bullets at all. She blinked open her eyes and found herself safe in the sheets of her bed, perspiring slightly. The siren wailed on, yet the words of her dream echoed in her head. This was her. Her fault. She did this. |