InsaneJournal

272 // open dreams
[ Option one: UnSub of the Week. ]

[ You’re hunted. Maybe you really did something, or perhaps you’re falsely accused but whatever happened, they’re on to you. The FBI is closing in. They know where you live, big black vans swarming like bluebottle flies outside the building, men and women in dark blue flak vests filing in, weapons at the ready. They’re on to you.

The soft footsteps of worn sneakers are coming closer in the hallway. They’re on to you. They’re almost here. ]


[ Option two: Compulsion to Move ]

[ You find yourself in a loft apartment. It’s dimly lit, shadows concealing most of the furniture aside from a lit circle in the middle of the floor. Two chairs pulled up, facing each other. Perhaps you’re tied to one of them, or maybe you’re just a bystander. Whichever you are, Reid is sitting in the other. Hands tied behind his back, blindfold fastened over his eyes.

Whatever is happening, it’s clear you’re not alone. ]


[ Option three: Phantasmagoria ]

[ The room is warmly lit, a deep golden sunshine filtering in from the tall windows, glistening off the leeches that are slowly and endlessly seeping out of the walls. Sawdust is flickering through the air, catching the light and piling onto the floor in soft, golden mounds, rippled like sand dunes around the electric chair that stands in the middle of the room.

There’s someone sitting in it, zipped up in a body bag. Slight movement reveals that it’s not a corpse. Aside from this, the room remains still and calm. ]