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lt_safe_house2009-10-01 11:22 am
neutral-adam.livejournal.com) wrote in lt_safe_house2009-10-01 11:22 am
Entry tags:
The way it wasn't
Date: April 02, 2003, early morning
Status: Private (Adam) (Complete)
Setting: Lower Tadfield Airbase (sort of) and Adam's bedroom
Summary: Adam dreams
Co-Authors: Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman ;-)
Clouds churned around the horizon. Overhead the sky was still clear, the air torn by nothing more than a light breeze. But it wasn't normal air. It had a crystallized look to it, so that you might feel that if you turned your head you might see new facets. It sparkled. If you had to find a word to describe it, the word thronged might slip insidiously into your mind. Thronged with insubstantial beings awaiting only the right moment to become very substantial.
Adam glanced up. In one sense there was just clear air overhead. In another, stretching off to infinity, were the hosts of Heaven and Hell, wingtip to wingtip. If you looked really closely, and had been specially trained, you could tell the difference.
Silence held the bubble of the world in its grip.
The door of the building swung open and the Four stepped out. There was no more than a hint of human about three of them now-they seemed to be humanoid shapes made up of all the things they were or represented. They made Death seem positively homely. His leather greatcoat and dark-visored helmet had become a cowled robe, but these were mere details. A skeleton, even a walking one, is at least human; Death of a sort lurks inside every living creature.
"The thing is," said Adam urgently, "they're not really real. They're just like nightmares, really."
"B-but we're not asleep," said Pepper.
Dog whined and tried to hide behind Adam.
"That one looks as if he's meltin'," said Brian, pointing at the advancing figure, if such it could still be called, of Pollution.
"There you are, then," said Adam, encouragingly. "It can't be real, can it? It's common sense. Something like that can't be reelly real."
The Four halted a few meters away.
IT HAS BEEN DONE, said Death. He leaned forward a little and stared eyelessly at Adam. It was hard to tell if he was surprised.
"Yes, well," said Adam. "The thing is, I don't want it done. I never asked for it to be done."
Death looked at the other three, and then back to Adam.
Behind them a jeep skewed to a halt. They ignored it.
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND, he said. SURELY YOUR VERY EXISTENCE REQUIRES THE ENDING OF THE WORLD. IT IS WRITTEN.
"I dunt see why anyone has to go an' write things like that," said Adam calmly. "The world is full of all sorts of brilliant stuff and I haven't found out all about it yet, so I don't want anyone messing it about or endin' it before I've had a chance to find out about it. So you can all just go away."
Death stared at Adam.
"You . . . are part . . . of us," said War, between teeth like beautiful bullets.
"It is done. We make . . . the . . . world . . . anew," said Pollution, his voice as insidious as something leaking out of a corroded drum into a water table.
"You . . . lead . . . us," said Famine.
And Adam hesitated. Voices inside him still cried out that this was true, and that the world was his as well, and all he had to do was turn and lead them out across a bewildered planet. They were his kind of people.
In tiers above, the hosts of the sky waited for the Word.
Dog began to growl.
Adam looked at the Them. They were his kind of people, too.
You just had to decide who your friends really were.
He turned back to the Four.
"Get them," said Adam, quietly.
War laughed, and looked expectantly at the Them.
"Little boys," she said, "playing with your toys. Think of all the toys I can offer you . . . think of all the games. I can make you fall in love with me, little boys. Little boys with your little guns."
She laughed again, but the machine-gun stutter died away as Pepper stepped forward and raised a trembling arm.
It wasn't much of a sword, but it was about the best you could do with two bits of wood and a piece of string. War stared at it.
"I see," she said. "Mano a mano, eh?" She drew her own blade and brought it up so that it made a noise like a finger being dragged around a wineglass.
There was no flash as they connected. Adam watching on was unsure why he thought there should be one but there definitely should have been. Instead War’s sword cut through the pieces of wood and cut a line across Pepper’s body. She collapsed with a scream , blood flowing from her body onto the ground.
Death stared into Adam's eyes and Adam couldn’t help but look back, his eyes locked even as his friend lay bleeding on the ground.
The Them stared at Pepper lying on the ground and at war standing over her, wiping the blood from her sword, apparently satisfied. “And little girls with your pretend swords...”
"But, but," said Brian, his faith in Adam knowing what he was doign starting to dwindle.
Wensleydale raised his head and looked Famine in the sunken eye. He was nervous and unsure but he held up something that, with a bit of imagination, could be considered to be a pair of scales made of more string and twigs. Then he whirled it around his head.
Famine stuck out a protective arm and the crude scales shattered on it. There was a slight smile as Famine looked at Wensleydale who suddenly felt weak. His arms and legs suddenly seemed so heavy but looking down at them he was horrified to see they were getting thinner. His muscles wasting away, the fat disappearing as Famine exerted his influence over the boy.
“Adam...” he croaked as he fell to the ground, unable to find the strength to remain on his feet.
Adam’s gaze was still locked into Death’s. But he felt his friend crumple at his side and heard the pleading desperation in his voice. “S’ok. We win this one. We stop them and then we all go home happy.” He knew this was how it would be. Or maybe how it should be... But this was not how it should have happened. War should have gone. Famine should have gone. Pollution should have gone and not be grinning sickeningly...
Brian nervously took the circle of grass stalks from his own head and uncertainly prepared to fling it. But as he held it it started to rot and decay, turning to a slimey ooze in his hand. And where he had been holding it his skin started to dry and crack as Pollutions horrifying effects took hold and then spread up his arm and across his body. Brian couldn’t even speak. Adam couldn’t see him but knew that he was suffering worse than his other friends. Everything that pollution could do to a person was being done to Brian and he couldn’t stop it.
“This int right,” Adam said quietly. “We win this one.”
NO. THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD BE. THIS IS HOW IT IS WRITTEN. YOUR EXISTANCE DEMANDS IT. WE HAVE DONE OUR JOB AND SOON IT WILL BE OVER.
Adam broke Death’s gaze to look to his friends. Pepper at his side had passed out, her breathing visible but shallow, the wound even to him needing obvious medical attention. Her blood had trickled to were Wensleydale lay on the ground. He looked like Death, not just figuratively but literally. He seemed no more than a skeleton with skin pulled tightly across his bones. His eyes looking up at Adam from the floor from which he didn’t have the muscle to move himself. And his eyes moved to Brian and quickly wished it hadn’t. His body was hideously disfigured by what he was suffering, his hair fallen out and... And Adam couldn’t look any more.
“But I’m meant to be the one who decides if the world is ended. I have the power to stop you.” Adam’s voice is almost pleading. The voice of a scared young boy, in way over his head.
NO. YOU ARE THE HARBINGER OF THE END TIMES. YOU ARE NO MORE THAN THAT. ONCE IT HAS STARTED IT CANNOT BE ENDED.
And as he spoke in the distance were missiles, coming down in the English countryside. He looked to Lower Tadfield and saw a wave of destruction sweeping across it, destroying his house, his school, the shops, the park and everything else he had ever known. The wave passed over him, finally ending his friends misery, leaving him standing with the Four in a burning wasteland.
****
With a start Adam sat up in bed, sweat pouring off of him. His heart was racing and he untangled himself from the sheets that had wrapped themselves around him. He threw back the curtains in his room and looked out on Lower Tadfield. Changed from how it was back then but still his home and still intact. It had all been a dream but not a normal one. He didn’t get nightmares. He didn’t want them and so he never had them. There must be something happening somewhere and it would be up at the manor. It seems that some of his guests staying there were probably misbehaving. It was clearly time to go and see them.
Status: Private (Adam) (Complete)
Setting: Lower Tadfield Airbase (sort of) and Adam's bedroom
Summary: Adam dreams
Co-Authors: Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman ;-)
Clouds churned around the horizon. Overhead the sky was still clear, the air torn by nothing more than a light breeze. But it wasn't normal air. It had a crystallized look to it, so that you might feel that if you turned your head you might see new facets. It sparkled. If you had to find a word to describe it, the word thronged might slip insidiously into your mind. Thronged with insubstantial beings awaiting only the right moment to become very substantial.
Adam glanced up. In one sense there was just clear air overhead. In another, stretching off to infinity, were the hosts of Heaven and Hell, wingtip to wingtip. If you looked really closely, and had been specially trained, you could tell the difference.
Silence held the bubble of the world in its grip.
The door of the building swung open and the Four stepped out. There was no more than a hint of human about three of them now-they seemed to be humanoid shapes made up of all the things they were or represented. They made Death seem positively homely. His leather greatcoat and dark-visored helmet had become a cowled robe, but these were mere details. A skeleton, even a walking one, is at least human; Death of a sort lurks inside every living creature.
"The thing is," said Adam urgently, "they're not really real. They're just like nightmares, really."
"B-but we're not asleep," said Pepper.
Dog whined and tried to hide behind Adam.
"That one looks as if he's meltin'," said Brian, pointing at the advancing figure, if such it could still be called, of Pollution.
"There you are, then," said Adam, encouragingly. "It can't be real, can it? It's common sense. Something like that can't be reelly real."
The Four halted a few meters away.
IT HAS BEEN DONE, said Death. He leaned forward a little and stared eyelessly at Adam. It was hard to tell if he was surprised.
"Yes, well," said Adam. "The thing is, I don't want it done. I never asked for it to be done."
Death looked at the other three, and then back to Adam.
Behind them a jeep skewed to a halt. They ignored it.
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND, he said. SURELY YOUR VERY EXISTENCE REQUIRES THE ENDING OF THE WORLD. IT IS WRITTEN.
"I dunt see why anyone has to go an' write things like that," said Adam calmly. "The world is full of all sorts of brilliant stuff and I haven't found out all about it yet, so I don't want anyone messing it about or endin' it before I've had a chance to find out about it. So you can all just go away."
Death stared at Adam.
"You . . . are part . . . of us," said War, between teeth like beautiful bullets.
"It is done. We make . . . the . . . world . . . anew," said Pollution, his voice as insidious as something leaking out of a corroded drum into a water table.
"You . . . lead . . . us," said Famine.
And Adam hesitated. Voices inside him still cried out that this was true, and that the world was his as well, and all he had to do was turn and lead them out across a bewildered planet. They were his kind of people.
In tiers above, the hosts of the sky waited for the Word.
Dog began to growl.
Adam looked at the Them. They were his kind of people, too.
You just had to decide who your friends really were.
He turned back to the Four.
"Get them," said Adam, quietly.
War laughed, and looked expectantly at the Them.
"Little boys," she said, "playing with your toys. Think of all the toys I can offer you . . . think of all the games. I can make you fall in love with me, little boys. Little boys with your little guns."
She laughed again, but the machine-gun stutter died away as Pepper stepped forward and raised a trembling arm.
It wasn't much of a sword, but it was about the best you could do with two bits of wood and a piece of string. War stared at it.
"I see," she said. "Mano a mano, eh?" She drew her own blade and brought it up so that it made a noise like a finger being dragged around a wineglass.
There was no flash as they connected. Adam watching on was unsure why he thought there should be one but there definitely should have been. Instead War’s sword cut through the pieces of wood and cut a line across Pepper’s body. She collapsed with a scream , blood flowing from her body onto the ground.
Death stared into Adam's eyes and Adam couldn’t help but look back, his eyes locked even as his friend lay bleeding on the ground.
The Them stared at Pepper lying on the ground and at war standing over her, wiping the blood from her sword, apparently satisfied. “And little girls with your pretend swords...”
"But, but," said Brian, his faith in Adam knowing what he was doign starting to dwindle.
Wensleydale raised his head and looked Famine in the sunken eye. He was nervous and unsure but he held up something that, with a bit of imagination, could be considered to be a pair of scales made of more string and twigs. Then he whirled it around his head.
Famine stuck out a protective arm and the crude scales shattered on it. There was a slight smile as Famine looked at Wensleydale who suddenly felt weak. His arms and legs suddenly seemed so heavy but looking down at them he was horrified to see they were getting thinner. His muscles wasting away, the fat disappearing as Famine exerted his influence over the boy.
“Adam...” he croaked as he fell to the ground, unable to find the strength to remain on his feet.
Adam’s gaze was still locked into Death’s. But he felt his friend crumple at his side and heard the pleading desperation in his voice. “S’ok. We win this one. We stop them and then we all go home happy.” He knew this was how it would be. Or maybe how it should be... But this was not how it should have happened. War should have gone. Famine should have gone. Pollution should have gone and not be grinning sickeningly...
Brian nervously took the circle of grass stalks from his own head and uncertainly prepared to fling it. But as he held it it started to rot and decay, turning to a slimey ooze in his hand. And where he had been holding it his skin started to dry and crack as Pollutions horrifying effects took hold and then spread up his arm and across his body. Brian couldn’t even speak. Adam couldn’t see him but knew that he was suffering worse than his other friends. Everything that pollution could do to a person was being done to Brian and he couldn’t stop it.
“This int right,” Adam said quietly. “We win this one.”
NO. THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD BE. THIS IS HOW IT IS WRITTEN. YOUR EXISTANCE DEMANDS IT. WE HAVE DONE OUR JOB AND SOON IT WILL BE OVER.
Adam broke Death’s gaze to look to his friends. Pepper at his side had passed out, her breathing visible but shallow, the wound even to him needing obvious medical attention. Her blood had trickled to were Wensleydale lay on the ground. He looked like Death, not just figuratively but literally. He seemed no more than a skeleton with skin pulled tightly across his bones. His eyes looking up at Adam from the floor from which he didn’t have the muscle to move himself. And his eyes moved to Brian and quickly wished it hadn’t. His body was hideously disfigured by what he was suffering, his hair fallen out and... And Adam couldn’t look any more.
“But I’m meant to be the one who decides if the world is ended. I have the power to stop you.” Adam’s voice is almost pleading. The voice of a scared young boy, in way over his head.
NO. YOU ARE THE HARBINGER OF THE END TIMES. YOU ARE NO MORE THAN THAT. ONCE IT HAS STARTED IT CANNOT BE ENDED.
And as he spoke in the distance were missiles, coming down in the English countryside. He looked to Lower Tadfield and saw a wave of destruction sweeping across it, destroying his house, his school, the shops, the park and everything else he had ever known. The wave passed over him, finally ending his friends misery, leaving him standing with the Four in a burning wasteland.
****
With a start Adam sat up in bed, sweat pouring off of him. His heart was racing and he untangled himself from the sheets that had wrapped themselves around him. He threw back the curtains in his room and looked out on Lower Tadfield. Changed from how it was back then but still his home and still intact. It had all been a dream but not a normal one. He didn’t get nightmares. He didn’t want them and so he never had them. There must be something happening somewhere and it would be up at the manor. It seems that some of his guests staying there were probably misbehaving. It was clearly time to go and see them.