In my secret garden...

[akonken.livejournal.com]

(As requested by sl4irl, fic about my new Lost character Petra:)

There is a door in my flat that only I can see.

I found it one day, killing time after another thrilling day at my dead-end job. I was dusting, because at that time - only a month or two after I got back and settled down - dusting was a high point of my day. As I was dusting the ex-fireplace, I was (you have to swear not to laugh) singing something or other.

My thoughts drifted to the path back here, to the feel of the desert sun on my face, and how it was only right as I was about to give up that the land changed to scrubland, and then field, and then thicket.

I thought about how much more fun it would be to explore that thicket than dust (wouldn’t you?), and all of a sudden there was this tingle down my arm and a “click” from the supposedly walled-up fireplace. It swung open like a door, revealing an overgrown path in what certainly looked like that very thicket.

I got my torch and my biggest kitchen knife and then I went back and crawled through.

I’ve gone back since, over and over again. My secret door never fails me.

I’m not saying that wild place is all picnics, believe me. I’ve been almost eaten by the weirdest creatures you could imagine. I’ve almost been eaten by the bushes themselves. It’d be embarrassing, if it weren’t so piss-your-pants scary.

But I won’t deny that it’s thrilling. It’s a hell of a lot more thrilling than dusting my apartment, that’s for sure.

So there you have it: my hobby is exploring a strange world using a door nobody else knows exists.

It’s not stamp collecting, but it works for me.

(Apocalypse) Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain.

[akonken.livejournal.com]

I was glad for the rain, for the cold, today. I’d downplayed my pain yesterday – my reason for being here was not renown – but it was still there. It would be there for a while yet.

I finished off my makeup (heavier than usual today, to hide the redness of the burn). My reflection stared at me, her expression unreadable. The fang marks from a long-ago fight peeked out from the edge of her collar. I adjusted mine and they disappeared from view again.

My reverie was interrupted by a young mother of two coming into the public bathroom to change her baby’s diaper. My reflection and I flashed her matching smiles and went away.

The mall was busy; lots of people were here to waste time and stay dry. I joined their throng, anonymously browsing idly through the latest fashions.

Teenage girls tittered past me. How long ago it was that I was one of them! Three years it’s been since I went shopping with my friends, bewailing the number of calories in a Frappuccino.

Three years since my first kill.

I thought of Kirsten leaning heavily on me after the battle, wounded and vulnerable. I thought of her ripping out the throat of the Spiral who’d utterly failed to shoot me.

I thought of Fists with Fury – clearly a woman with a great sense of humour – asking me to dye her green, of her laughter as we kidded around in her flat. I thought of her brawl with Shitkicker, and its interruption by the sinister noise deep in the heart of the caern.

I thought of Jake, green and stammering. I thought of him slicing through his foes like an expert; no hesitation, no uncertainty then.

I thought of Sammy, whining confusedly as she came out of her first frenzy. I thought of her careful and cunning trap deployment.

What a bunch we were.

We were lucky this time. We may have been untrained, but they were unsuspecting. This time we won.

I looked at the row of animal-themed umbrellas in front of me. I ran my finger along one of the ribs, using the motion to calm the rage that threatened to burble up.

Because I was angry. The "hive dive" was poorly managed. We were lucky this time.

We wouldn’t be lucky next time. Next time we’d need to be good.

I selected an umbrella, bright yellow and billed, its cheerful duck face folded away for the moment.

It was time to work with the rat.