Strange Tomato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
strangetomato) wrote2008-10-15 10:45 am
strangetomato) wrote2008-10-15 10:45 am
Entry tags:
Drabble+: Nightmare
There's nothing quite like breaking your own rules, is there? I'm contrary like that, so actually coming out and saying I'm not going to post much will obviously make me want to write something. So here it is... a drabble+.
Prompt: A character wakes from a nightmare in the middle of the night to the person they least want to see at that moment.
Characters: Tank Grunt (and others, but you'll have to read it to see)
Wordcount: 400
Warnings: language, violence
Then Johnny stopped moving. Tank held his neck in his hands, and Johnny looked back at him with lifeless eyes.
He was dead, and Tank had killed him.
Finally.
Goddamned alien piece of shit.
But why did he feel so empty?
Oh, god. He had killed him.
"Johnny... Johnny?!" Tank shook him. "Shit... I didn't mean it. Wake up, you asshole!"
Frantically, he tried to revive him, but it was too late.
Then Ripp was there, wailing. He fell onto the corpse in despair. "Johnny! You've killed him. You've killed my Johnny!"
"Stop it!" Tank yelled, "Stop crying!"
"You killed him. My brother... you killed my brother."
"I'M your brother."
Why, Ripp? Why him? Why not me?
"I hate you."
Had he said the words, or had Ripp?
Then he was choking him, pressing Ripp to the floor, and feeling the life go out of him too.
Why not me?
He was killing him.
He wanted to stop, but couldn't.
He tried to break out of it, but couldn't.
He tried to scream, but nothing came out.
"Tank?" Frances was on him, shaking him. "TANK!"
Tank still couldn't move or say anything. He couldn't even catch his breath. He could see the room around him, and Frances reaching down at him, but he couldn't move. Frances had his hands reaching out towards his neck, and he thought he must be trying to kill him too. He tried to yell, "Get the fuck off of me!" but nothing came out.
"Tank?! What's wrong with you? Stop it! Wake up! You're scaring me." Frances felt his panic rising, and the next thing he knew, he had slapped Tank squarely across the face. "WAKE UP!"
Tank woke up.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Tank wanted to escape, to shove Frances aside and get out of there, but he felt a strange comfort in having him there too.
He didn't want to be comforted.
He didn't need it.
How much of that had Frances been able to witness? Had he cried out in his sleep? Dreams were blurring into reality, and he didn't want Frances to see that... to see what he had done. He didn't want Frances on his bed either.
"You... hit me."
"I'm sorry." Frances bit his quivering lip, and tried not to cry, but the panic and relief were too much for him.
"God... don't cry."
Prompt: A character wakes from a nightmare in the middle of the night to the person they least want to see at that moment.
Characters: Tank Grunt (and others, but you'll have to read it to see)
Wordcount: 400
Warnings: language, violence
Then Johnny stopped moving. Tank held his neck in his hands, and Johnny looked back at him with lifeless eyes.
He was dead, and Tank had killed him.
Finally.
Goddamned alien piece of shit.
But why did he feel so empty?
Oh, god. He had killed him.
"Johnny... Johnny?!" Tank shook him. "Shit... I didn't mean it. Wake up, you asshole!"
Frantically, he tried to revive him, but it was too late.
Then Ripp was there, wailing. He fell onto the corpse in despair. "Johnny! You've killed him. You've killed my Johnny!"
"Stop it!" Tank yelled, "Stop crying!"
"You killed him. My brother... you killed my brother."
"I'M your brother."
Why, Ripp? Why him? Why not me?
"I hate you."
Had he said the words, or had Ripp?
Then he was choking him, pressing Ripp to the floor, and feeling the life go out of him too.
Why not me?
He was killing him.
He wanted to stop, but couldn't.
He tried to break out of it, but couldn't.
He tried to scream, but nothing came out.
"Tank?" Frances was on him, shaking him. "TANK!"
Tank still couldn't move or say anything. He couldn't even catch his breath. He could see the room around him, and Frances reaching down at him, but he couldn't move. Frances had his hands reaching out towards his neck, and he thought he must be trying to kill him too. He tried to yell, "Get the fuck off of me!" but nothing came out.
"Tank?! What's wrong with you? Stop it! Wake up! You're scaring me." Frances felt his panic rising, and the next thing he knew, he had slapped Tank squarely across the face. "WAKE UP!"
Tank woke up.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Tank wanted to escape, to shove Frances aside and get out of there, but he felt a strange comfort in having him there too.
He didn't want to be comforted.
He didn't need it.
How much of that had Frances been able to witness? Had he cried out in his sleep? Dreams were blurring into reality, and he didn't want Frances to see that... to see what he had done. He didn't want Frances on his bed either.
"You... hit me."
"I'm sorry." Frances bit his quivering lip, and tried not to cry, but the panic and relief were too much for him.
"God... don't cry."
no subject
Maybe that's just something about Tank as a sim. He really has a lot of little habits and mannerisms (like that thing where he's thinking and tapping his head, or how often he takes out the trash) that paint a very clear picture of him for me. Or maybe we're just on the same page with him. (Well, not the Johnny-loving page. :P I don't think I'd ever go there, though I have enjoyed that storyline as a spectator.)
no subject
As bad as I am with being too-indulgent, I can't expect everyone's life to end up puppies and sunshine. Actually, a comic I read for years ended that way (for all but 1 character) and it felt so fake it really put me off (especially since it felt so damn rushed).