The Echo
folder
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,094
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,094
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.
The Echo
FIC: The Echo
Characters: Orlando, Sean Bean, Dominic Monaghan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dark Themes, AU, Abstract style of writing.
Summary: Orlando has been warded in a mental institution. He looks into a mirror and is shifting in and out of insanity as he tries to decide if what he sees is real or is just an illusion.
Note: This is a sequel of sorts to my previous story, Night Whispers, but it can still be read as a stand-alone. This is for lotrpschallenge#10 ie: “Colour Study”. I’ve used White, Green, Red, Grey and Black in that order. And yes. It’s not supposed to make sense.
More Notes: Words that are italised are encompassed in *...*.Stage directions are encompassed with //...//
White
=====
The sounds made by the dripping faucet was his only companion as a man stood silently before the tiny mirror that hung precariously upon the wall of the restroom. He gingerly perched upon the balls of his feetyingying to peer through the glass into the world beyond. He saw but could not comprehend, settling instead to contemplate upon the world that was presented before him – the world behind the thin barrier of cool glass and gleaming silver.
A face. A face behind the smooth surface of glass, close yet elusive like the lingering threads of sanity after a lifetime of wandering in the dark abyss. It didn’t make sense. “Who are you?” he thought. Yet there was no answer, only the overwhelming presence of the sterile, white-tiled walls and the harsh fluorescent lights glaring balefully down upon him.
A mirror upon the wall. A reflection. A reflection of a miniature reality that he could not touch, taste or smell.
He raised a trembling hand and placed it upon the surface of the mirror. The man behind the glass did the same.
“Talk to me,” he whispered, eyeing the identical curls of hair, dark eyes and lips that were pressed into a thin, grim line.
Yet the silence still reigned, pressing against his ears like a deafening echo, leaving him with the biting sense of loneliness.
There was no one there. No one was was nothing but an illusion behind that barrier of glass.
Green
=====
“Talk to me,” he said again, his voice louder and just a little shaky. “Who *are* you?”
But the face changed; a grotesque contortion of the visage into a mask of Fear and the man stepped back, sickened. With his heart pumping a quick, irritable staccato in this chest, he watched as the man behind the glass did the same, echoing his every footstep; his every move. Echoing his every breath.
Are they the same? Both him and that man in the mirror? What could it mean?
“Who am *I*?” he asked instead, his eyes wide, discerning the reaction of his reflection. No answer. There was no answer in the mirror.
(*I am no one.*)
“*Who am I*?” he gritted out, stepping up to the sink, shaking with suppressed rage as his hands balled into fists by his sides.
A spark. A spark of recognition in those haunted eyes before it flitted away like a transient butterfly hovering over the petals of a red, red rose.
‘Who am I?’ he had asked.
(*I am no one.*)
He couldn’t find the answer behind that barrier of glass.
Red
====
“*Fuck you*!” he snarled, grabbing the mirror from its place upon the wall before hurling it into the sink where it shattered into tiny, silver pieces.
(*Bloom?*)
And then there were hundreds of them. Hundreds of the same, hideous faces looking out at him, all of them with red-rimmed eyes and crying mouths, upon every surface of the broken pieces of
*sanity*
glass.
The crying intensified; the blood-curdling quality of it reverberated in the encd spd space, drilling into his ears like a pick axe.
He clutched his fists to his ears, squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, desperate to block out the sound. But the echo… the echo swelled and smothered him, drowning him out before it fades away, leaving nothing behind
(*Bloom? What the fuck are you doing in there?*)
but soft, trembling sighs.
Grey
=====
He opened his eyes to look at the hundreds of faces peering back at him.
(*Jesus, what is he up to now?*)
Sad faces they were. With large eyes that spoke of nothing yet hinted at everything.
//*the door opened*//
He reached into the sink to pick up one of the broken pieces of
*sanity*
glass and gently cradled it in the palm of his hand.
“Come back,” he then murmured before pressing the sliver of
*sanity*
glass against his cheek and wept.
(*What the fuck*?)
//*sounds of approaching footsteps*//
(*Fucking cunt, drop it! Dr. Bean! Jesus, are you trying to kill yourself? Orderly, get the doctor!*)
“Come back,” he choked out again before he was shoved ast tst the wall and dragged down to the floor.
(*Monaghan? Where the hell are you?*)
(*Jesus. We’r her here, sir! He’s gonna kill himself!*)
Exhaustion seeped through his very bones and the darkness beckoned, embracing him like a lover’s touch.
(*Orlando? Let it go.*)
(*Fuck-fuck-fuck. Poor fucking prick. Jesus, he’s holding to it so tight.*)
(*Gently, damn it!*)
(*He won’t let go! Jesus, Dr. Bean, he's not going to let go!*)
(*You’re hurting him! Christ! Orlando, let go. That’s it.*)
Sleep. He welcomed it willingly and before long, everything faded to –
Black
======
“Sean.”
“Abby.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“He wasn’t trying to kill himself.”
“Sean –,”
“I know he wasn’t. I know it.”
Silence.
“Well, he’s asleep now.”
“What did they say?”
Silence.
“Sean –,”
“*What did they say?*”
//*deep breaths*//
“The authorities weren’t too keen on having the episode repeat itselfan. an. They fully intend to take him into their care if you refuse to increase the prescription for his medication. You know, he reacts well to Prozac and the Valium –,”
“Fuck.”
“Sean?”
Silence.
“Come home, Sean. You don’t have to be here. He’ll be alright.”
Silence.
*
//*The night had fallen once more. The shadows embraced the darkness eagerly as they danced across the room, rejoicing in the death of Light.
In the night, the darkness triumphed. No pain existed. No memories. No haunting from the past.
And in the corner of the room, a mist is once again taking shape, like vapour forming into droplets as it kisses the cool surface of glassâ¨
Characters: Orlando, Sean Bean, Dominic Monaghan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dark Themes, AU, Abstract style of writing.
Summary: Orlando has been warded in a mental institution. He looks into a mirror and is shifting in and out of insanity as he tries to decide if what he sees is real or is just an illusion.
Note: This is a sequel of sorts to my previous story, Night Whispers, but it can still be read as a stand-alone. This is for lotrpschallenge#10 ie: “Colour Study”. I’ve used White, Green, Red, Grey and Black in that order. And yes. It’s not supposed to make sense.
More Notes: Words that are italised are encompassed in *...*.Stage directions are encompassed with //...//
White
=====
The sounds made by the dripping faucet was his only companion as a man stood silently before the tiny mirror that hung precariously upon the wall of the restroom. He gingerly perched upon the balls of his feetyingying to peer through the glass into the world beyond. He saw but could not comprehend, settling instead to contemplate upon the world that was presented before him – the world behind the thin barrier of cool glass and gleaming silver.
A face. A face behind the smooth surface of glass, close yet elusive like the lingering threads of sanity after a lifetime of wandering in the dark abyss. It didn’t make sense. “Who are you?” he thought. Yet there was no answer, only the overwhelming presence of the sterile, white-tiled walls and the harsh fluorescent lights glaring balefully down upon him.
A mirror upon the wall. A reflection. A reflection of a miniature reality that he could not touch, taste or smell.
He raised a trembling hand and placed it upon the surface of the mirror. The man behind the glass did the same.
“Talk to me,” he whispered, eyeing the identical curls of hair, dark eyes and lips that were pressed into a thin, grim line.
Yet the silence still reigned, pressing against his ears like a deafening echo, leaving him with the biting sense of loneliness.
There was no one there. No one was was nothing but an illusion behind that barrier of glass.
Green
=====
“Talk to me,” he said again, his voice louder and just a little shaky. “Who *are* you?”
But the face changed; a grotesque contortion of the visage into a mask of Fear and the man stepped back, sickened. With his heart pumping a quick, irritable staccato in this chest, he watched as the man behind the glass did the same, echoing his every footstep; his every move. Echoing his every breath.
Are they the same? Both him and that man in the mirror? What could it mean?
“Who am *I*?” he asked instead, his eyes wide, discerning the reaction of his reflection. No answer. There was no answer in the mirror.
(*I am no one.*)
“*Who am I*?” he gritted out, stepping up to the sink, shaking with suppressed rage as his hands balled into fists by his sides.
A spark. A spark of recognition in those haunted eyes before it flitted away like a transient butterfly hovering over the petals of a red, red rose.
‘Who am I?’ he had asked.
(*I am no one.*)
He couldn’t find the answer behind that barrier of glass.
Red
====
“*Fuck you*!” he snarled, grabbing the mirror from its place upon the wall before hurling it into the sink where it shattered into tiny, silver pieces.
(*Bloom?*)
And then there were hundreds of them. Hundreds of the same, hideous faces looking out at him, all of them with red-rimmed eyes and crying mouths, upon every surface of the broken pieces of
*sanity*
glass.
The crying intensified; the blood-curdling quality of it reverberated in the encd spd space, drilling into his ears like a pick axe.
He clutched his fists to his ears, squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, desperate to block out the sound. But the echo… the echo swelled and smothered him, drowning him out before it fades away, leaving nothing behind
(*Bloom? What the fuck are you doing in there?*)
but soft, trembling sighs.
Grey
=====
He opened his eyes to look at the hundreds of faces peering back at him.
(*Jesus, what is he up to now?*)
Sad faces they were. With large eyes that spoke of nothing yet hinted at everything.
//*the door opened*//
He reached into the sink to pick up one of the broken pieces of
*sanity*
glass and gently cradled it in the palm of his hand.
“Come back,” he then murmured before pressing the sliver of
*sanity*
glass against his cheek and wept.
(*What the fuck*?)
//*sounds of approaching footsteps*//
(*Fucking cunt, drop it! Dr. Bean! Jesus, are you trying to kill yourself? Orderly, get the doctor!*)
“Come back,” he choked out again before he was shoved ast tst the wall and dragged down to the floor.
(*Monaghan? Where the hell are you?*)
(*Jesus. We’r her here, sir! He’s gonna kill himself!*)
Exhaustion seeped through his very bones and the darkness beckoned, embracing him like a lover’s touch.
(*Orlando? Let it go.*)
(*Fuck-fuck-fuck. Poor fucking prick. Jesus, he’s holding to it so tight.*)
(*Gently, damn it!*)
(*He won’t let go! Jesus, Dr. Bean, he's not going to let go!*)
(*You’re hurting him! Christ! Orlando, let go. That’s it.*)
Sleep. He welcomed it willingly and before long, everything faded to –
Black
======
“Sean.”
“Abby.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“He wasn’t trying to kill himself.”
“Sean –,”
“I know he wasn’t. I know it.”
Silence.
“Well, he’s asleep now.”
“What did they say?”
Silence.
“Sean –,”
“*What did they say?*”
//*deep breaths*//
“The authorities weren’t too keen on having the episode repeat itselfan. an. They fully intend to take him into their care if you refuse to increase the prescription for his medication. You know, he reacts well to Prozac and the Valium –,”
“Fuck.”
“Sean?”
Silence.
“Come home, Sean. You don’t have to be here. He’ll be alright.”
Silence.
*
//*The night had fallen once more. The shadows embraced the darkness eagerly as they danced across the room, rejoicing in the death of Light.
In the night, the darkness triumphed. No pain existed. No memories. No haunting from the past.
And in the corner of the room, a mist is once again taking shape, like vapour forming into droplets as it kisses the cool surface of glassâ¨