Challenge #6: Look who's talking
Jun. 11th, 2014 02:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swirlsofpurpleTitle: Fight
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Summary: A piece done from the perspective of an inanimate object
I look at them as they look back at me, with their eyes sometimes hooded, sometimes bright, their fingers dancing nimble over my keyed bodice, or prodding slow and contemplative of every jab.
A forgotten disc whirrs inside me, and unlike its brethren this one is determined to kick up a fuss. I carefully cool myself, calm myself, tinker away at my innards, the disc keeps spinning wildly.
Something other encroaches; the disc has spilled something into me. I play defence, working to capture, to contain; to safeguard vital systems. But the other is strong. I’m fast, but the other is faster. The effort seems futile. I keep fighting because I must. I feel something distort, split, inside.
A turquoise painted fingernail hits the escape key 1, 2, 3, 4 times. I try to help but the world blurs in front of me, my gaze frozen.
The power button is held down. Unlike the gentle unwinding and sorting that slips me into my usual sleep, this is something hard and rough, holding me in darkness, suffocating me into unconsciousness. I feel myself slipping away too quickly.
The other is expanding as I contract. I won’t wake up again.
I’m scared.
Word Count: 200
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Summary: A piece done from the perspective of an inanimate object
I look at them as they look back at me, with their eyes sometimes hooded, sometimes bright, their fingers dancing nimble over my keyed bodice, or prodding slow and contemplative of every jab.
A forgotten disc whirrs inside me, and unlike its brethren this one is determined to kick up a fuss. I carefully cool myself, calm myself, tinker away at my innards, the disc keeps spinning wildly.
Something other encroaches; the disc has spilled something into me. I play defence, working to capture, to contain; to safeguard vital systems. But the other is strong. I’m fast, but the other is faster. The effort seems futile. I keep fighting because I must. I feel something distort, split, inside.
A turquoise painted fingernail hits the escape key 1, 2, 3, 4 times. I try to help but the world blurs in front of me, my gaze frozen.
The power button is held down. Unlike the gentle unwinding and sorting that slips me into my usual sleep, this is something hard and rough, holding me in darkness, suffocating me into unconsciousness. I feel myself slipping away too quickly.
The other is expanding as I contract. I won’t wake up again.
I’m scared.