For the boxchatters - Jake and Ten
Jul. 27th, 2006 02:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nitro_is_ace(Go then)
Jake knew he would let go, chose this fabled Tower over him, but it wsa still a shock when his hand grasped only air.
(There are other worlds than these)
He immediately regrets his bold words. What if he's wrong? What if he doesn't wake up in another strange world, just as he had the last time he died?
What if he never stops falling?
The bridge is all abstract lines, arching through an ever-diminishing slice of sky. He cannot see Roland now, and wonders if he is just too far away, or if Roland has already moved on, continued his hunt for the Man in Black and the secrets he keeps. He wants to scream but finds he cannot, like a drowning man at sea.
He cannot see the bridge now, just a thin sliver of bright blue sky between the two thrusting peaks that have created this crevasse. Maybe he was right, maybe he will fall forever, not to another world, but through it, through everything.
When the sounds start, he's sure that the agonized wondering has warped his mind. It's not a natural sound at all, and not just one sound, but many. Something wheezes like air out of ancient bellows while a grinding thump like a giant, ill-used robot marches for what is assuredly the last time while, higher pitched, an electronic sound like a computer trills above the rest.
And then he hits something, finally, before the thought that if he's going to go crazy it could have least have been an interesting crazy fully forms. It isn't, however, the rough grate of rock but smooth metal that he feels under his hands, and instead of the pain that would surely come (unless he broke his back, there's always that, won't feel a thing if he breaks his spine) he just feels... stopped. The sound fades to a gentle hum, like a room full of smoked bees under glass.
There's soft footsteps, and as he turns his head he realizes why they are so quiet - the man approaching is wearing sneakers, white sneakers that clash with the neatly ironed trouser legs that rise above them, which doesn't go with the big brown duster (Go then) and for the moment it is all too much (there are other worlds than these) and he falls again, this time into black unconsciousness.
Jake knew he would let go, chose this fabled Tower over him, but it wsa still a shock when his hand grasped only air.
(There are other worlds than these)
He immediately regrets his bold words. What if he's wrong? What if he doesn't wake up in another strange world, just as he had the last time he died?
What if he never stops falling?
The bridge is all abstract lines, arching through an ever-diminishing slice of sky. He cannot see Roland now, and wonders if he is just too far away, or if Roland has already moved on, continued his hunt for the Man in Black and the secrets he keeps. He wants to scream but finds he cannot, like a drowning man at sea.
He cannot see the bridge now, just a thin sliver of bright blue sky between the two thrusting peaks that have created this crevasse. Maybe he was right, maybe he will fall forever, not to another world, but through it, through everything.
When the sounds start, he's sure that the agonized wondering has warped his mind. It's not a natural sound at all, and not just one sound, but many. Something wheezes like air out of ancient bellows while a grinding thump like a giant, ill-used robot marches for what is assuredly the last time while, higher pitched, an electronic sound like a computer trills above the rest.
And then he hits something, finally, before the thought that if he's going to go crazy it could have least have been an interesting crazy fully forms. It isn't, however, the rough grate of rock but smooth metal that he feels under his hands, and instead of the pain that would surely come (unless he broke his back, there's always that, won't feel a thing if he breaks his spine) he just feels... stopped. The sound fades to a gentle hum, like a room full of smoked bees under glass.
There's soft footsteps, and as he turns his head he realizes why they are so quiet - the man approaching is wearing sneakers, white sneakers that clash with the neatly ironed trouser legs that rise above them, which doesn't go with the big brown duster (Go then) and for the moment it is all too much (there are other worlds than these) and he falls again, this time into black unconsciousness.
