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31_days2010-02-10 05:52 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2010-02-10 05:52 pm
[Fed 10] [Watchmen] Finding Meaning
Title: Finding Meaning
Day/Theme: 10) this morning i found a dream
tangled in the web
overhanging my bed
Series: Watchmen
Characters/pairing: Walter
Rating: PG
The cracks in the ceiling intersected like a web. Not one made by any natural spider of course, but some crazed one, uninterested in catching flies to feed itself. The dirty white patched outlined by the cracks sometimes took on shapes. He was used to finding meaning in the meaningless. Bits and pieces at a crime scene, changes in pitch in a frightened voice, neat lines of newsprint ink, the ebb and flow of the constantly shifting tides of humanity in the unwashed city.
The shape he was looking at now looked like a bird. He hadn’t noticed it before but it was the first thing that jumped out at him when his eyes opened. If he held up his hand, he could make it look like it was perched on his finger. He refused to do that. Reaching out wasn’t comfortable or wise. He closed his eyes again and dreamed vaguely of a hand that had reached out for him, before it started hurting too badly to reach back. Pressure on his fingers, reassuring strength instead of threatening, squeezing more at his heart than his hand, but when he opened his eyes again, all he saw was cracks.
His upstairs neighbor crashed around noisily and new line appeared. He rolled over and pulled his suspenders up before he could see how it changed the shapes. He had work to do, but the dream had stirred up memories of contact. Maybe it was time to check the locks again.
Day/Theme: 10) this morning i found a dream
tangled in the web
overhanging my bed
Series: Watchmen
Characters/pairing: Walter
Rating: PG
The cracks in the ceiling intersected like a web. Not one made by any natural spider of course, but some crazed one, uninterested in catching flies to feed itself. The dirty white patched outlined by the cracks sometimes took on shapes. He was used to finding meaning in the meaningless. Bits and pieces at a crime scene, changes in pitch in a frightened voice, neat lines of newsprint ink, the ebb and flow of the constantly shifting tides of humanity in the unwashed city.
The shape he was looking at now looked like a bird. He hadn’t noticed it before but it was the first thing that jumped out at him when his eyes opened. If he held up his hand, he could make it look like it was perched on his finger. He refused to do that. Reaching out wasn’t comfortable or wise. He closed his eyes again and dreamed vaguely of a hand that had reached out for him, before it started hurting too badly to reach back. Pressure on his fingers, reassuring strength instead of threatening, squeezing more at his heart than his hand, but when he opened his eyes again, all he saw was cracks.
His upstairs neighbor crashed around noisily and new line appeared. He rolled over and pulled his suspenders up before he could see how it changed the shapes. He had work to do, but the dream had stirred up memories of contact. Maybe it was time to check the locks again.