Jaguar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kittydesade) wrote2006-10-21 09:03 pm
kittydesade) wrote2006-10-21 09:03 pm
Entry tags:
[Fic] Man on Fire
Title: Man on Fire
Fandom: Kingdom Hospital
Characters: Dr. Richard Shwartzton
Word Count: 700
Rating: PG
Summary: "Then the itching becomes burning, heat upon heat, upon heat..." Yeah, it's a rough draft, but it's worth a post.
The whispers came before the burning, filling his ears with their words just out of reach and the echoes of nasty sentiment. He knew they were talking about him, most likely pointing and laughing behind his back, but he couldn't prove it. That didn't matter. That didn't matter. He'd get them eventually, prove them wrong, prove himself triumphant over all. Wait and see.
By the time he had reached the hospital the whispers had grown to tremors in the ground, and the itching had started underneath his toenails. Voices doubled around him, one set in chorus with the shaking under the hospital, one set in harsh congruency with the beeping of the machines and the clank of wheels on the linoleum floor. A part of him, a rapidly diminishing part, knew that the over-voices belonged to mostly nurses who were trying to help him.
He was strapped down to a bed, fed poison, the voices whispered. They were trying to trap you, get you, burn you alive. By now the itching had become burning, swelling his skin and crisping him from the inside out. He could smell the burning skin and hair. Could feel the layers of fat under the skin turning to melted wax and soap and bubbling, pushing up the epidermis. He scratched and scratched but they wouldn't let him peel it away. They wouldn't give him water when he was thirsty.
There was lye in the vats, acid that splashed over his skin and burned him but not half as bad as the flames curling over the walls. There were screams in his ears, black noise covering any soothing words the nurses might have tried.
As the hospital darkened around him the ashes started to coat the flames. Half the building was in wreckage and ruin by now, and the other half was still burning. He could feel his skin cracking open by now, flames licking at the edges of each fissure. No one was listening to him, no matter what he said, no matter how much he twisted and writhed and wiggled what was left of his feet. Charred and bloody stumps. They had to smell the flesh cooking in the air and they went about their business in their sterile rooms with their latex and aluminum equipment without the slightest care for his funeral pyre of a hospital bed.
His vision started to go black. He couldn't tell if it was from the ash or from the smoke or from night falling outside the ruins of the hospital wing, but it was black as despair and he was giving up on the idea of help. There was a ringing in his ears that was persistent, swelling as the darkness swelled to blind him. It grew as his sight faded, terrifying him.
"Who's there?"
The ringing was accompanied by crying. A little girl crying, and it wasn't a ringing in his ears or the ringing of metal falling against metal, it was a bell. It was a church bell, a death bell ringing as he burned alive. As he screamed he heard her crying in fear and pain, a kind of pain that he felt resonating in his chest.
"What's happening to me?"
"Help me."
It was his voice. It was the girl's. It was a chorus of voices and all of them belonging to people dying in agonies he would never have wished on a child. And there was a ticking sound of sharp shoes or claws against the concrete. One, two, three, counting down to destiny. To death, because by now he couldn't see and couldn't breathe for the smoke and death was imminent. Death was a result of smoke inhalation.
His breaths came slower and further between, rasping through a hardened throat. He could feel his lungs crisping and turning into ash and crumbling in his chest. He was dying and he could still hear her screams, even if he was no longer capable of making his own.
The fire was only a pleasant heat by now, pulling him under. The last thing he felt was the pinch of the needle and the soft-rough fabric of the hospital blanket before everything went black.
Fandom: Kingdom Hospital
Characters: Dr. Richard Shwartzton
Word Count: 700
Rating: PG
Summary: "Then the itching becomes burning, heat upon heat, upon heat..." Yeah, it's a rough draft, but it's worth a post.
The whispers came before the burning, filling his ears with their words just out of reach and the echoes of nasty sentiment. He knew they were talking about him, most likely pointing and laughing behind his back, but he couldn't prove it. That didn't matter. That didn't matter. He'd get them eventually, prove them wrong, prove himself triumphant over all. Wait and see.
By the time he had reached the hospital the whispers had grown to tremors in the ground, and the itching had started underneath his toenails. Voices doubled around him, one set in chorus with the shaking under the hospital, one set in harsh congruency with the beeping of the machines and the clank of wheels on the linoleum floor. A part of him, a rapidly diminishing part, knew that the over-voices belonged to mostly nurses who were trying to help him.
He was strapped down to a bed, fed poison, the voices whispered. They were trying to trap you, get you, burn you alive. By now the itching had become burning, swelling his skin and crisping him from the inside out. He could smell the burning skin and hair. Could feel the layers of fat under the skin turning to melted wax and soap and bubbling, pushing up the epidermis. He scratched and scratched but they wouldn't let him peel it away. They wouldn't give him water when he was thirsty.
There was lye in the vats, acid that splashed over his skin and burned him but not half as bad as the flames curling over the walls. There were screams in his ears, black noise covering any soothing words the nurses might have tried.
As the hospital darkened around him the ashes started to coat the flames. Half the building was in wreckage and ruin by now, and the other half was still burning. He could feel his skin cracking open by now, flames licking at the edges of each fissure. No one was listening to him, no matter what he said, no matter how much he twisted and writhed and wiggled what was left of his feet. Charred and bloody stumps. They had to smell the flesh cooking in the air and they went about their business in their sterile rooms with their latex and aluminum equipment without the slightest care for his funeral pyre of a hospital bed.
His vision started to go black. He couldn't tell if it was from the ash or from the smoke or from night falling outside the ruins of the hospital wing, but it was black as despair and he was giving up on the idea of help. There was a ringing in his ears that was persistent, swelling as the darkness swelled to blind him. It grew as his sight faded, terrifying him.
"Who's there?"
The ringing was accompanied by crying. A little girl crying, and it wasn't a ringing in his ears or the ringing of metal falling against metal, it was a bell. It was a church bell, a death bell ringing as he burned alive. As he screamed he heard her crying in fear and pain, a kind of pain that he felt resonating in his chest.
"What's happening to me?"
"Help me."
It was his voice. It was the girl's. It was a chorus of voices and all of them belonging to people dying in agonies he would never have wished on a child. And there was a ticking sound of sharp shoes or claws against the concrete. One, two, three, counting down to destiny. To death, because by now he couldn't see and couldn't breathe for the smoke and death was imminent. Death was a result of smoke inhalation.
His breaths came slower and further between, rasping through a hardened throat. He could feel his lungs crisping and turning into ash and crumbling in his chest. He was dying and he could still hear her screams, even if he was no longer capable of making his own.
The fire was only a pleasant heat by now, pulling him under. The last thing he felt was the pinch of the needle and the soft-rough fabric of the hospital blanket before everything went black.