Janie Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
a_time_slip) wrote2012-02-11 01:05 am
a_time_slip) wrote2012-02-11 01:05 am
(no subject)
Beautiful strokes of peach and red and gold in the horizon, illuminating the landscape and reminding her of sherbert, with tastes of citrus, berry, tangy and- Pangia. He's sitting on a blanket, smiling with dimples in his cheeks as the kids chase around a bolt of white energy fighting with a black hole and two microscopic stars- almost a kite, but without a string.
He leaned in, a kiss on the cheek, a piece of heaven-
And then, reality.
A concrete box was enough of a prison for the claustrophobic, for she felt as if the walls were constantly closing in on her and that the ceiling and floor would press her to death. The lack of light and furniture fed her active imagination, and Janie feared what was outside of those doors while fearing the inside of the box too.
What trapped her further was time. For someone of her nature, time did not move one way as it does for most. Normally she could access the past, present, future and everything between and now all she had to look forward to was the future and the unpleasentness of her present.
Meals were when a tiny slit in the concrete filled with yellow light, and a metal tray containing gruel and bread appeared. She grew to love meal time, and the grittiness of the dry bread, the blandness of the gruel. The metallic taste of the lukewarm water.
It was always the same, time was told through meals. There was no contact with anyone, no noise, no voices. She did not sing or speak- or even know if she was still able to. This was her punishment for breaking the unwritten laws of the city.
And that was why a tiny flicker of light surprised her. It lay in a corner, no bigger than a pinprick, a white ray that shot across the room. And there was another, and another, until the wall was filled with a blinding light. Voices and noise and fussing about and so much activity followed, so many people and everyone was in such a hurry.
She'd be overwhelmed if all the time in that dark room hadn't stripped away so much of who she was.
"Mommy." called a voice "They said you were crazy so you get to come home."
Janie stared. She once knew someone with that voice, someone that- Lynn. One of the kids. A little girl so much like herself that she didn't want to admit it.
"Lynn?" she asked, in a hoarse, cracked voice
"Daddy said that you're going to be around when I need you, and that The Beast is wrong, so you're gonna have to prove it."
"What." she began, before clearing her throat, which felt as dry as a desert "How am I released?"
"We got you off on insanity defense." Lynn explained, placing her small hand in Janie's larger one. "Because all of the stuff and the war made you insane, so you gotta go to therapy and do other stuff I can't remember. It's all in the papers."
"It's bright in here..." Lynn babbled about something else, as they walked through a set of doors to freedom.
He leaned in, a kiss on the cheek, a piece of heaven-
And then, reality.
A concrete box was enough of a prison for the claustrophobic, for she felt as if the walls were constantly closing in on her and that the ceiling and floor would press her to death. The lack of light and furniture fed her active imagination, and Janie feared what was outside of those doors while fearing the inside of the box too.
What trapped her further was time. For someone of her nature, time did not move one way as it does for most. Normally she could access the past, present, future and everything between and now all she had to look forward to was the future and the unpleasentness of her present.
Meals were when a tiny slit in the concrete filled with yellow light, and a metal tray containing gruel and bread appeared. She grew to love meal time, and the grittiness of the dry bread, the blandness of the gruel. The metallic taste of the lukewarm water.
It was always the same, time was told through meals. There was no contact with anyone, no noise, no voices. She did not sing or speak- or even know if she was still able to. This was her punishment for breaking the unwritten laws of the city.
And that was why a tiny flicker of light surprised her. It lay in a corner, no bigger than a pinprick, a white ray that shot across the room. And there was another, and another, until the wall was filled with a blinding light. Voices and noise and fussing about and so much activity followed, so many people and everyone was in such a hurry.
She'd be overwhelmed if all the time in that dark room hadn't stripped away so much of who she was.
"Mommy." called a voice "They said you were crazy so you get to come home."
Janie stared. She once knew someone with that voice, someone that- Lynn. One of the kids. A little girl so much like herself that she didn't want to admit it.
"Lynn?" she asked, in a hoarse, cracked voice
"Daddy said that you're going to be around when I need you, and that The Beast is wrong, so you're gonna have to prove it."
"What." she began, before clearing her throat, which felt as dry as a desert "How am I released?"
"We got you off on insanity defense." Lynn explained, placing her small hand in Janie's larger one. "Because all of the stuff and the war made you insane, so you gotta go to therapy and do other stuff I can't remember. It's all in the papers."
"It's bright in here..." Lynn babbled about something else, as they walked through a set of doors to freedom.