cutthroatpixie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cutthroatpixie) wrote2009-07-11 07:05 pm
cutthroatpixie) wrote2009-07-11 07:05 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: A Night to Remember
I so totally forgot to post this haha. It's my fic from the last round of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fandomcommerce. :)
Title: A Night to Remember
Recipient's LJ name:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mizzmoonyluver
Rating: R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bellatrix and Barty mostly, other Death Eaters and Werewolves
Word Count: 1380
Warnings: Blood, mentions of torture, violence
Prompt Chosen: #7
Authors/Artists notes: Sorry this is rambly? Once I get going it is like word vomit. I hope you enjoy, nonetheless. :)
Beyond the bustle of city boundaries, surrounded by hills and trees and solitude, a small town began to rest. As a warm summer day cooled into a summer night, the houses went dark and the land went silent, the only sound being dry air as it rustled through trees and over chimneys. A typical night for an average town, parents kissing children goodnight, young couples heading inside for the night, babies slowly ceasing their fussing.
"We shall move in soon."
At the edge of the town, secluded by a thriving forest, a woman's voice cut through the silence. A low thrum of agreement, her blood red nails tapping against her side, the rustle of moving feet all added together to break any facade of calm the area might have once possessed.
Low, inhuman grunts joined the quiet voices as larger, dirtier forms added to the congregation of cloaked figures. The stars shined in the sky, the only source of light, a black gap revealing the new moon for what it was, the sky refusing to offer any sort of aid to the not really human creatures at the edge of the gathering of people.
The last lights of the town faded out, along with any remaining noise, and the group knew it was time to introduce mayhem to the otherwise uneventful evening.
"Go."
The word left a hidden feminine mouth, and like a suddenly undamed river the group advanced, flowing into the town, disturbing the cooling night air. Still sleeping, entirely unaware, the town's citizens lay in their beds, vulnerable to the attack, not knowing what was in store for them.
Crash
Wood split and gave way, a door was kicked in, and a light shot on in the upper levels of the invaded house.
Thud thud thud
A man ran down the stairs, all adrenaline and panic and gottokeepthemsafe, an inadequate weapon held in his hand, his only intent being to get the intruders out, to protect the family he held dear. A laugh cut through the house, disturbed and manic and entirely gleeful, and the man really did not know what to think when he was met with nothing but that terrifying sound and a broken door.
The man looked around, alert, ever alert, attempting to find the source of that laughter, clutching that wontreallyhelp weapon in his sweaty palm. Descending, further, further, into the hidden depths of his house, those familiar walls were transformed into the man's deepest fears. Some unknown intruder lurked somewhere within, nothing was sacred anymore.
The laughter continued.
Getting closer.
And closer.
Until--
Squeak
Though his movements had ceased, a floorboard creaked right behind the doomed man, and soon enough, before he could whip around or react or put up a fight, a long, hard object was pressed against his back, and with that sensation and overwhelming pain was cast upon him.
A woman reacted to the screams of her husband, rushing down to his aid, her frail, useless hands going to her mouth at the wretched sight before her-- a robed figure, giggling away, her husband, on the floor, his skin slowing peeling away from his muscles, his bones, blood gushing as veins and arteries were pulled away with the skin.
"Oh look, we've got another party guest." Had she not seen what was going on, the jovial nature of the intruder's voice may have made the woman pause in her fright-- surely he meant no harm, this laughing, cheerful, cloaked man. Perhaps it was all an illusion, some horrid trick he was playing, perhaps she really was just another party guest...
She screamed. A swishwaveflick and she was on the ground, holding bloodied hands over her nolongereyes, her sockets now nothing but blood and sinew and broken blood vessels.
A pause. An amused sigh. "You're not missing much, I've seen better eyes."
She didn't fight. Didn't scream. Didn't rush to the aid of her probably dead husband, or stumble upstairs to protect her sleeping child.
As more pain filled her body, as more body parts flew off into the darkness around her, she just laughed.
The surrounding houses were awoken by the screams, the laughter, the overwhelming sound of chaos that was so very out of place in their quiet little community. Their awareness did them no good, they were too unarmed, too outnumbered, too sleepy, to put up much of a fight-- though they did manage to put up enough to be amusing.
Red nails wrapped around a throat, aching for a little old-fashioned, hands on torture. A child whimpered beneath the grip, crying for its mother, begging for sleep, for mercy, just to be let go. Screaming. Doing everything those brutal hands wanted it to, playing out the perfect scene.
Rustle
A young girl fled her own scene of terror, clutching the hand of her younger sister, blood spatter on her face, in her golden strawberry hair, on her clothes. The pair's parents, long dead, biding them time as a gruesome monster took its time devouring their corpses.
"I want Mama." A useless cry, quickly shushed, filled the older sister with dread. Why couldn't the damn child just be quiet, she wondered, in vain, as she would never find out that particular answer. Billowing robes put a damper on the escape attempt, their hue poisoning the darkness they so closely blended with. A hand was raised, three breaths hitched, and then... gone. The figure was gone.
And they ran.
Amidst the bloodshed, the torture, the notquitecannibalism, those two girls ran for it, bathed in darkness, the older silently thanking the deaths of others for the distraction they provided. They ran, and ran, lurking behind houses and in bushes, until they reached the forest where all this madness had begun so many hours before.
"Stop crying, we'll hide in here. Be quiet, be quiet." The child, wailing and clinging, was silenced over and over, a panicked tone to her elder sibling's voice, an understanding of what was going on clearly only in the mind of one of the girls.
As soon as she heard it, that ragged, hungry breath, the snarling voice, the older girl was soverysure that had it not been for her inobedient, snivelling younger sister, she would never have heard that sound. She would have been able to get away, had it not been for that child.
In her last moments, moments that outlived those of her sister, her entire soul was filled with regret-- not for failing to protect her baby sister, but for the attempt. Claws ripped her sister from her, ripped into her chest, her face, her stomach. Pain beyond any she had felt before, worse than anything she had ever dared to imagine, filled quickly torn nerves. Tearing, slashing, eating, until all she was-- all her regret, her anger, her fear-- was gone forever.
Well into the evening, the morning, until the pink hues of morning light appeared beyond the horizon, the massacre continued. Snarls and screams and laughs blended together, some enjoying a meal, others taking pleasure from the fight, and still more meeting bloody, pain-filled ends.
A woman lay at the edge of the massacre, her pale form sprawled out, arms limp, face lifeless, her nightgown blowing in the chilled night air. The only evidence of what had truly happened to her--that horrid, unbelievable truth that no "sane" Muggle agreed to believe-- sat in her curled up hand, resting against her mangled wrist. Had anyone come by just then, and proven lucky enough to steer clear of the werewolves and masked figures, they may have happened upon the discovery of a lifetime.
Unfortunately, the woman's justice would not be carried out just so, nothing was that perfect, and a pair of hairy, claw-like hands trampled her last testimony, it's nails sinking into her to remove any sense of beauty she may have still clung to in that soulless form.
Beyond the town, past the forest, a rainbow of light blazed through the sky, unaware of any disturbance. Light passed through the lifeless town, making blood glisten and grey skin shine, revealing the aftermath of a busy night, but no hint of those who caused that typical, average, peaceful town to have an abnormal night.
fandomcommerce. :)Title: A Night to Remember
Recipient's LJ name:
mizzmoonyluverRating: R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Bellatrix and Barty mostly, other Death Eaters and Werewolves
Word Count: 1380
Warnings: Blood, mentions of torture, violence
Prompt Chosen: #7
Authors/Artists notes: Sorry this is rambly? Once I get going it is like word vomit. I hope you enjoy, nonetheless. :)
Beyond the bustle of city boundaries, surrounded by hills and trees and solitude, a small town began to rest. As a warm summer day cooled into a summer night, the houses went dark and the land went silent, the only sound being dry air as it rustled through trees and over chimneys. A typical night for an average town, parents kissing children goodnight, young couples heading inside for the night, babies slowly ceasing their fussing.
"We shall move in soon."
At the edge of the town, secluded by a thriving forest, a woman's voice cut through the silence. A low thrum of agreement, her blood red nails tapping against her side, the rustle of moving feet all added together to break any facade of calm the area might have once possessed.
Low, inhuman grunts joined the quiet voices as larger, dirtier forms added to the congregation of cloaked figures. The stars shined in the sky, the only source of light, a black gap revealing the new moon for what it was, the sky refusing to offer any sort of aid to the not really human creatures at the edge of the gathering of people.
The last lights of the town faded out, along with any remaining noise, and the group knew it was time to introduce mayhem to the otherwise uneventful evening.
"Go."
The word left a hidden feminine mouth, and like a suddenly undamed river the group advanced, flowing into the town, disturbing the cooling night air. Still sleeping, entirely unaware, the town's citizens lay in their beds, vulnerable to the attack, not knowing what was in store for them.
Crash
Wood split and gave way, a door was kicked in, and a light shot on in the upper levels of the invaded house.
Thud thud thud
A man ran down the stairs, all adrenaline and panic and gottokeepthemsafe, an inadequate weapon held in his hand, his only intent being to get the intruders out, to protect the family he held dear. A laugh cut through the house, disturbed and manic and entirely gleeful, and the man really did not know what to think when he was met with nothing but that terrifying sound and a broken door.
The man looked around, alert, ever alert, attempting to find the source of that laughter, clutching that wontreallyhelp weapon in his sweaty palm. Descending, further, further, into the hidden depths of his house, those familiar walls were transformed into the man's deepest fears. Some unknown intruder lurked somewhere within, nothing was sacred anymore.
The laughter continued.
Getting closer.
And closer.
Until--
Squeak
Though his movements had ceased, a floorboard creaked right behind the doomed man, and soon enough, before he could whip around or react or put up a fight, a long, hard object was pressed against his back, and with that sensation and overwhelming pain was cast upon him.
A woman reacted to the screams of her husband, rushing down to his aid, her frail, useless hands going to her mouth at the wretched sight before her-- a robed figure, giggling away, her husband, on the floor, his skin slowing peeling away from his muscles, his bones, blood gushing as veins and arteries were pulled away with the skin.
"Oh look, we've got another party guest." Had she not seen what was going on, the jovial nature of the intruder's voice may have made the woman pause in her fright-- surely he meant no harm, this laughing, cheerful, cloaked man. Perhaps it was all an illusion, some horrid trick he was playing, perhaps she really was just another party guest...
She screamed. A swishwaveflick and she was on the ground, holding bloodied hands over her nolongereyes, her sockets now nothing but blood and sinew and broken blood vessels.
A pause. An amused sigh. "You're not missing much, I've seen better eyes."
She didn't fight. Didn't scream. Didn't rush to the aid of her probably dead husband, or stumble upstairs to protect her sleeping child.
As more pain filled her body, as more body parts flew off into the darkness around her, she just laughed.
The surrounding houses were awoken by the screams, the laughter, the overwhelming sound of chaos that was so very out of place in their quiet little community. Their awareness did them no good, they were too unarmed, too outnumbered, too sleepy, to put up much of a fight-- though they did manage to put up enough to be amusing.
Red nails wrapped around a throat, aching for a little old-fashioned, hands on torture. A child whimpered beneath the grip, crying for its mother, begging for sleep, for mercy, just to be let go. Screaming. Doing everything those brutal hands wanted it to, playing out the perfect scene.
Rustle
A young girl fled her own scene of terror, clutching the hand of her younger sister, blood spatter on her face, in her golden strawberry hair, on her clothes. The pair's parents, long dead, biding them time as a gruesome monster took its time devouring their corpses.
"I want Mama." A useless cry, quickly shushed, filled the older sister with dread. Why couldn't the damn child just be quiet, she wondered, in vain, as she would never find out that particular answer. Billowing robes put a damper on the escape attempt, their hue poisoning the darkness they so closely blended with. A hand was raised, three breaths hitched, and then... gone. The figure was gone.
And they ran.
Amidst the bloodshed, the torture, the notquitecannibalism, those two girls ran for it, bathed in darkness, the older silently thanking the deaths of others for the distraction they provided. They ran, and ran, lurking behind houses and in bushes, until they reached the forest where all this madness had begun so many hours before.
"Stop crying, we'll hide in here. Be quiet, be quiet." The child, wailing and clinging, was silenced over and over, a panicked tone to her elder sibling's voice, an understanding of what was going on clearly only in the mind of one of the girls.
As soon as she heard it, that ragged, hungry breath, the snarling voice, the older girl was soverysure that had it not been for her inobedient, snivelling younger sister, she would never have heard that sound. She would have been able to get away, had it not been for that child.
In her last moments, moments that outlived those of her sister, her entire soul was filled with regret-- not for failing to protect her baby sister, but for the attempt. Claws ripped her sister from her, ripped into her chest, her face, her stomach. Pain beyond any she had felt before, worse than anything she had ever dared to imagine, filled quickly torn nerves. Tearing, slashing, eating, until all she was-- all her regret, her anger, her fear-- was gone forever.
Well into the evening, the morning, until the pink hues of morning light appeared beyond the horizon, the massacre continued. Snarls and screams and laughs blended together, some enjoying a meal, others taking pleasure from the fight, and still more meeting bloody, pain-filled ends.
A woman lay at the edge of the massacre, her pale form sprawled out, arms limp, face lifeless, her nightgown blowing in the chilled night air. The only evidence of what had truly happened to her--that horrid, unbelievable truth that no "sane" Muggle agreed to believe-- sat in her curled up hand, resting against her mangled wrist. Had anyone come by just then, and proven lucky enough to steer clear of the werewolves and masked figures, they may have happened upon the discovery of a lifetime.
Unfortunately, the woman's justice would not be carried out just so, nothing was that perfect, and a pair of hairy, claw-like hands trampled her last testimony, it's nails sinking into her to remove any sense of beauty she may have still clung to in that soulless form.
Beyond the town, past the forest, a rainbow of light blazed through the sky, unaware of any disturbance. Light passed through the lifeless town, making blood glisten and grey skin shine, revealing the aftermath of a busy night, but no hint of those who caused that typical, average, peaceful town to have an abnormal night.