WOTD fic - "Sonorous"
Feb. 19th, 2007 11:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aibhinn_ficsTitle: A Long Way Home
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aibhinn
Character: Jack
Rating: G
Summary: I went to war when I was a boy. I was with my best friend. We got caught crossing the border over enemy lines. They tortured him, not me, because he was weaker. They made me watch him die.
Warnings: None, unless a dead body squicks you out.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Author's notes: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tw_wotd_fic community. Prompt: sonorous.
The bell rang, deep and sonorous. Once, twice, three times. A pause, then another three rings. And another. Tolling the death of one more prisoner; milking the despair of the occupied village below. Their so-vaunted defenders from off-world were not invulnerable.
He lay in the mud, throat raw from screaming, eyes sore from weeping. His own body was undamaged; not so much as a bruise except his wrists, which were raw and painful where he'd been shackled to the wall. They'd not touched him, not once, though he begged for it. Once he'd been secured, they never went near him, no matter how much he pleaded. Take me instead. Torture me. Kill me. Just leave him alone. I'll do anything. Please!
Beside him lay a broken, bloody, filthy body: a lump of flesh now, nothing more. Green eyes stared at the sky; a youthful mouth hung slack; smooth, hairless cheeks spoke of years yet unlived. He knew it was there, had heard the squish of the mud as it had landed beside him, thrown as unceremoniously out the door as he had been, accompanied by laughter—laughter that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.
He closed his eyes and tried hard to picture their home planet. Long summer afternoons fishing on the lake; evenings studying together for their school exams; idle hours spent laughing and talking and planning. Their first dates. Their first kisses. The fateful afternoon when he'd gone to his friend's house with glossy brochures. "We're old enough to join up now! We should go. We can make a difference in this war. Besides, it'll get us off-world. It'll be an adventure!"
And this was how the adventure had ended: in torture and screams and death, and the knowledge that the debt of his best friend's life now lay on his soul.
I'll have to tell his mother.
That was the thought that dragged him out of his lethargy. He had to get home; he had to tell the woman who had been a second mother to him that her only blood son was dead. He had to beg her forgiveness. Without his urging, his best friend would never have been here. Would never have been tortured. Would never have died. He'd still be alive, probably at university, where he'd wanted to go in the first place. Studying the law, maybe. Or medicine. Or chemistry.
Not this. Not here, battered and cold and unmoving. Not gone, forever.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees and then looked. Took in the sight of his best friend, his brother in all but blood. With a shaking hand, he reached over and closed the green eyes for the last time.
"I'll never forget you, James Harper," he whispered.
He climbed slowly to his feet and began walking toward the spaceport, not caring that he was deserting. It was a long way home.
Author:
aibhinnCharacter: Jack
Rating: G
Summary: I went to war when I was a boy. I was with my best friend. We got caught crossing the border over enemy lines. They tortured him, not me, because he was weaker. They made me watch him die.
Warnings: None, unless a dead body squicks you out.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money. Please not to sue me.
Author's notes: Written for the
tw_wotd_fic community. Prompt: sonorous.The bell rang, deep and sonorous. Once, twice, three times. A pause, then another three rings. And another. Tolling the death of one more prisoner; milking the despair of the occupied village below. Their so-vaunted defenders from off-world were not invulnerable.
He lay in the mud, throat raw from screaming, eyes sore from weeping. His own body was undamaged; not so much as a bruise except his wrists, which were raw and painful where he'd been shackled to the wall. They'd not touched him, not once, though he begged for it. Once he'd been secured, they never went near him, no matter how much he pleaded. Take me instead. Torture me. Kill me. Just leave him alone. I'll do anything. Please!
Beside him lay a broken, bloody, filthy body: a lump of flesh now, nothing more. Green eyes stared at the sky; a youthful mouth hung slack; smooth, hairless cheeks spoke of years yet unlived. He knew it was there, had heard the squish of the mud as it had landed beside him, thrown as unceremoniously out the door as he had been, accompanied by laughter—laughter that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.
He closed his eyes and tried hard to picture their home planet. Long summer afternoons fishing on the lake; evenings studying together for their school exams; idle hours spent laughing and talking and planning. Their first dates. Their first kisses. The fateful afternoon when he'd gone to his friend's house with glossy brochures. "We're old enough to join up now! We should go. We can make a difference in this war. Besides, it'll get us off-world. It'll be an adventure!"
And this was how the adventure had ended: in torture and screams and death, and the knowledge that the debt of his best friend's life now lay on his soul.
I'll have to tell his mother.
That was the thought that dragged him out of his lethargy. He had to get home; he had to tell the woman who had been a second mother to him that her only blood son was dead. He had to beg her forgiveness. Without his urging, his best friend would never have been here. Would never have been tortured. Would never have died. He'd still be alive, probably at university, where he'd wanted to go in the first place. Studying the law, maybe. Or medicine. Or chemistry.
Not this. Not here, battered and cold and unmoving. Not gone, forever.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees and then looked. Took in the sight of his best friend, his brother in all but blood. With a shaking hand, he reached over and closed the green eyes for the last time.
"I'll never forget you, James Harper," he whispered.
He climbed slowly to his feet and began walking toward the spaceport, not caring that he was deserting. It was a long way home.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 08:16 pm (UTC)And this was how the adventure had ended: in torture and screams and death, and the knowledge that the debt of his best friend's life now lay on his soul.
*sobs again* Thank you so much for sharing this. Lovely work, but man does it hurt!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 10:29 pm (UTC)Wow, that was amazing. Love that his name was James Harper, love everything about this story.
*sniffles some more*
Well done.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-21 05:14 pm (UTC)Lovely piece of writing! :D
:'(
Date: 2007-03-01 06:52 pm (UTC)Just glad I have a ton of tissues lying around.