not much in the way of footwear...
Sep. 6th, 2003 01:31 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
invader-jim.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionThis came to me last night but I was too chicken to post it without someone else reading it over. Strangely enough, finding someone awake at 3am is rather difficult, hence the delay in posting. I have some issues with some of the wording but can't figure out how to change it without changing the tone. Hopefully they aren't too distracting. At 350 words:
The knife pressed uncomfortably close to his jugular, and a pressure in his abdomen was making his vision fade. “Again, I ask: where is he?” What must have been a knee dug more sharply yet into his stomach.
“OK, OK, please, just ease up on me, OK?” The pressure lessened enough that he could make out the cold eyes drilling into his own. Into his brain, it felt like. “God, that hurts. Why not just kill me already?” The man shoved his knee down and he gasped, “Sorry, OK? He's back there, in the back room. We didn't hurt him much, just knocked him around some, OK? Just please don't hurt me no more.”
He was half hauled up and slammed into the wall. “If he has so much as a scratch on him, you will wish you were dying of exposure in the deepest crevasse of the Artic instead of dealing with me. Do you understand?” He nodded wildly, looking at the man with bugged eyes. With one final shove into the wall the man let go of his jacket. He huddled against the wall, sobbing for breath as the man strode toward the rear of the building without a backward glance.
***
God, he prayed, if you have any sense of justice let him be all right. He jerked open the door and halted, struggling to breath. A pair of boots peeked out from under a pile of fabric and carpet swaths. Painfully familiar boots. The feet they were on, and the legs attached to them, didn't move in the slightest, even when the door barked sharply against the interior wall. Shaking off his paralysis he fell upon the pile, scattering the cloth haphazardly until he unearthed the man below. With two fingers at the throat of the still body, he discovered a strong pulse beating. The man below him stirred weakly against his bonds, still mostly unconscious. He cut the cords binding him and gathered him into his arms. Finally holding him, Fraser let the terror of the day rack him as the wails of the sirens echoed.
The knife pressed uncomfortably close to his jugular, and a pressure in his abdomen was making his vision fade. “Again, I ask: where is he?” What must have been a knee dug more sharply yet into his stomach.
“OK, OK, please, just ease up on me, OK?” The pressure lessened enough that he could make out the cold eyes drilling into his own. Into his brain, it felt like. “God, that hurts. Why not just kill me already?” The man shoved his knee down and he gasped, “Sorry, OK? He's back there, in the back room. We didn't hurt him much, just knocked him around some, OK? Just please don't hurt me no more.”
He was half hauled up and slammed into the wall. “If he has so much as a scratch on him, you will wish you were dying of exposure in the deepest crevasse of the Artic instead of dealing with me. Do you understand?” He nodded wildly, looking at the man with bugged eyes. With one final shove into the wall the man let go of his jacket. He huddled against the wall, sobbing for breath as the man strode toward the rear of the building without a backward glance.
***
God, he prayed, if you have any sense of justice let him be all right. He jerked open the door and halted, struggling to breath. A pair of boots peeked out from under a pile of fabric and carpet swaths. Painfully familiar boots. The feet they were on, and the legs attached to them, didn't move in the slightest, even when the door barked sharply against the interior wall. Shaking off his paralysis he fell upon the pile, scattering the cloth haphazardly until he unearthed the man below. With two fingers at the throat of the still body, he discovered a strong pulse beating. The man below him stirred weakly against his bonds, still mostly unconscious. He cut the cords binding him and gathered him into his arms. Finally holding him, Fraser let the terror of the day rack him as the wails of the sirens echoed.
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Date: 2003-09-06 06:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-06 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-06 06:27 pm (UTC)Okay. I'm all right now. :)
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Date: 2003-09-06 06:38 pm (UTC)On the contrary, I think it was a totally skillful and original interpretation of the challenge! Those unmoving feet were quite terrifying. Well done!
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Date: 2003-09-06 07:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-06 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-06 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-06 09:59 pm (UTC)Bad guys should not mess with Fraser's mate.
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Date: 2003-09-07 12:35 am (UTC)This was wonderful, I loved it, write more. And no, you're not getting your DVDs back, but you may be gaining a copy of Call of the Wild on VHS by the end of the month. :-)
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Date: 2003-09-07 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-07 07:02 pm (UTC)