Prompt: St. Peter
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tamingthemuseTitle: Gates
Fandom: Original Fic
Prompt: St. Peter
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 565
Concrit and feedback: Adored
Summary: All movement is controlled by gates.
He was trapped in a crowd of people. There was the wall in front of him, blocking the path forward, but the space to the sides and behind was vast and empty. And yet everyone pushed together, jostling for elbow room that did exist. It was nearly silent, which made the occasional sounds of despair and pain that much more heart stopping.
He was sure he’d been there for days. When he’d first arrived, there were only a few others. Without conversation, they had all arranged themselves in an orderly line, eyes fixed and forward, waiting patiently and hopefully. As time passed, however, the line lengthened then widened, until finally the tidy line was a disorderly mob.
The first moan, low but drawn out, finally pulled his attention to the bodies around him. It came from far behind him, and he looked around in surprise. People stood on all sides of him, well within his personal space but somehow not touching him. He hadn’t noticed them until the sound forced his head up. Now he looked around in a panic, trapped by the multitudes in the vast space.
No one else seemed to hear the pained moan as their attention remained fixed forward, eyes trained on the gap in the wall. Their silence and lack of motion was disconcerting and oppressive. He was physically immobilized by the crowd, but even more so by the crowd’s apathy. He yearned to do something to alleviate the pain that was obvious in the soft moan that somehow penetrated every pore of his being, but he couldn’t move. He feared to touch those who crowded so closely, feared to even attract their notice.
Finally, the moan faded into soft sobs and blessed silence. He tried to return his attention to the wall, but now that he’d seen the others, he felt every discomfort. He suddenly realized he’d been there for days, possibly weeks. Every muscle ached from the constant immobility, his eyes burned from being trained on the brightness of the wall. Even more than the physical pain, it was the fear permeating his every pore that made him yearn to flee. But the fear permeating his every pore made him incapable of flight.
Additional moans sounded within the crowd, each closer than the one that sounded before. The tension and temperature seemed to rise, the golden glow imperceptibly changing until it shone a vivid blood red. The moans came louder and faster, no longer moans but screams. He could feel the heat at his back, he could feel the others around him holding him in place with their apathy. He could feel his time turn short, and he kept his eyes turned on the great white gates with the others, desperate to see them open, to offer... asylum.
******
Patrick woke with a gasp. He’d fallen asleep in his study, his wingback turned to face the window and the Pearly Gates which stood open, wide and welcoming. An orderly line formed in the vast space beyond, all eyes fixed on the wall and the gap which allowed their entrance to Heaven.
Despite his nightmare, Patrick smiled. His sins had been forgiven, he’d stood at the Pearly Gates and been granted admittance by Saint Peter. He turned to the other window, the window that faced further into the Kingdom, to the great golden glow that so far outshone the Gates.
Fandom: Original Fic
Prompt: St. Peter
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 565
Concrit and feedback: Adored
Summary: All movement is controlled by gates.
He was trapped in a crowd of people. There was the wall in front of him, blocking the path forward, but the space to the sides and behind was vast and empty. And yet everyone pushed together, jostling for elbow room that did exist. It was nearly silent, which made the occasional sounds of despair and pain that much more heart stopping.
He was sure he’d been there for days. When he’d first arrived, there were only a few others. Without conversation, they had all arranged themselves in an orderly line, eyes fixed and forward, waiting patiently and hopefully. As time passed, however, the line lengthened then widened, until finally the tidy line was a disorderly mob.
The first moan, low but drawn out, finally pulled his attention to the bodies around him. It came from far behind him, and he looked around in surprise. People stood on all sides of him, well within his personal space but somehow not touching him. He hadn’t noticed them until the sound forced his head up. Now he looked around in a panic, trapped by the multitudes in the vast space.
No one else seemed to hear the pained moan as their attention remained fixed forward, eyes trained on the gap in the wall. Their silence and lack of motion was disconcerting and oppressive. He was physically immobilized by the crowd, but even more so by the crowd’s apathy. He yearned to do something to alleviate the pain that was obvious in the soft moan that somehow penetrated every pore of his being, but he couldn’t move. He feared to touch those who crowded so closely, feared to even attract their notice.
Finally, the moan faded into soft sobs and blessed silence. He tried to return his attention to the wall, but now that he’d seen the others, he felt every discomfort. He suddenly realized he’d been there for days, possibly weeks. Every muscle ached from the constant immobility, his eyes burned from being trained on the brightness of the wall. Even more than the physical pain, it was the fear permeating his every pore that made him yearn to flee. But the fear permeating his every pore made him incapable of flight.
Additional moans sounded within the crowd, each closer than the one that sounded before. The tension and temperature seemed to rise, the golden glow imperceptibly changing until it shone a vivid blood red. The moans came louder and faster, no longer moans but screams. He could feel the heat at his back, he could feel the others around him holding him in place with their apathy. He could feel his time turn short, and he kept his eyes turned on the great white gates with the others, desperate to see them open, to offer... asylum.
******
Patrick woke with a gasp. He’d fallen asleep in his study, his wingback turned to face the window and the Pearly Gates which stood open, wide and welcoming. An orderly line formed in the vast space beyond, all eyes fixed on the wall and the gap which allowed their entrance to Heaven.
Despite his nightmare, Patrick smiled. His sins had been forgiven, he’d stood at the Pearly Gates and been granted admittance by Saint Peter. He turned to the other window, the window that faced further into the Kingdom, to the great golden glow that so far outshone the Gates.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-19 09:08 am (UTC)Just as an aside, I misread the first time through, and saw "Patrick" as "Peter" and thought Peter had fallen asleep on the job for a moment. *g*