herr_bookman (
herr_bookman) wrote2014-10-05 07:27 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Entry tags:
OOM: Conversations with Dead People II
Autor finds himself floating this evening. He flails in the air, thinking he's falling, though he doesn't feel that pull on his stomach. After a while, he surrenders to it, lying on his back and putting his feet up.
A chair with broken legs sits empty in front of him, and a lighted chessboard--his side oriented to white--hovers in the air. He gasps, recognizing the set, and executes a graceful turn in the air in an attempt to get away from the zombies that he knows are coming.
A chair with broken legs sits empty in front of him, and a lighted chessboard--his side oriented to white--hovers in the air. He gasps, recognizing the set, and executes a graceful turn in the air in an attempt to get away from the zombies that he knows are coming.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He pauses, almost at peace with how he's floating, and his friend is here. Almost. Something still bothers him, though he can't pinpoint what. "Oswin, what are you doing here?"
no subject
no subject
When she sits in the chair, his nose fills with the pungent smell of rot. "Oswin... Are you all right? Do you smell that?"
no subject
no subject
His breath hitches. "Didn't I?"
no subject
no subject
"How did it happen?" he demands, though his anger cools as soon as he says it, and the fight goes out of him with a noisy breath. "Why are you dead?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Your current time, of course," the boy says, and removes his glasses to scrub at his eyes with his palms. "I'd love to try some soufflé. Do you have an extra fork?"
no subject
It'd help, of course, if the souffle was something more than part of Oswin's imagination. It fades as soon as her attention is pulled away from it.
no subject
no subject
no subject
The boy can't start crying again--and over such a small thing, too, or so he thinks--so he bites his lip. He swims toward her again, and embraces her. "Thank you for coming to visit me."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Is it just him, or is her skin hard and cool? He wants to believe the lie, wants to smell rose oil and cloves, wants to listen for a heartbeat--which he can't hear.
He's parched, so he draws a breath through his nose. "I still love you. No matter what form you take."
no subject
AND. I. LOVE YOU. AU-TOR.
Someone had taken the time to strip the rose that's now in his hands of all its thorns.
no subject