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04 March 2007 @ 12:21 am
 
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Charlene Roberta McGee: firestarterladyfirestarter on March 15th, 2007 03:11 am (UTC)
For a brief dazzling instant the fire is everywhere, surrounding her like air --
So this is how it feels to breathe in the summer air
-- and not burning her.
To feel the sand between my toes and love inside my ear
Even as she scrambles backward with Bev, staggering away from the bulging wall, a tiny detached part of her stares in wonder at the flames wreathing harmlessly around them.
All those things that you taught me to fear
Oh. Oh, my.
I've got them in my garden now and you're not welcome here
(Come here!)
room1408: melting wall 1room1408 on March 15th, 2007 03:22 am (UTC)
The wall goes up like a torch, paper flaring as if it had been doused in gasoline, and the air is suddenly filled with the agonized screaming of voices.

Ten? A hundred? A thousand? Who can say? (How many people have been trapped here, anyway?) They all blend together, a wailing chorus of the damned, a howling choir of madness, loud enough to shatter eardrums and send silver spikes of pain into a person's mind-- and as the shrieking intensifies, the walls split--

--ALL the walls--


--gaping wide, wider, a hundred mouths opening--


--and as they do, something changes.

(let there be light)

There's a moaning sound, the sort of sound an unholy wind would make, and the feel of something RUSHING toward them, from somewhere OUTSIDE.

Something with teeth.
Beverly Marsh: slingshotbev_marsh on March 15th, 2007 03:48 am (UTC)
Beverly flinches when the fire engulfs them, one hand going to her hair. She stays tense with her eyes closed for a moment until she realizes she doesn't feel any pain, and then opens her eyes--and lets out a sound that, while shaky and hysterical, is still undeniably a laugh.

It cuts off abruptly as the voices start, and then--oh, and then--

(It came from Outside)

She doesn't know, anymore, if the Something behind the room is like It, or, somehow, It Itself. Either way, it's too close for comfort.

(Outside where?)

And it's getting closer.

(Outside everything)

"Kill it!" she shouts at Charlie and (Fire)Sera both, and for all the hysterical fear in her voice, it's not a plea. It's a command. "Kill it, now, before it comes through!"
Fire: the beginningbright_burning on March 15th, 2007 04:25 am (UTC)
Kill it she says and somewhere in Fire's mind there is a shred of humanity left. It screams with pain and fear and anger but the flames cover it, and the flames do what they will, always have.

Kill it now she says and Fire (only it's not Fire, exactly, it's just fire) turns her face upwards and

r e a c h e s


and the living flame rooted to the Great Mother, Ma answers (can't not) and she smiles.

and with what are these on fire?

The room explodes.

with the fire of passion, say I, with the fire of hatred, with the fire of infatuation; with birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair are they on fire.

And it
a universal roaring Flame
is
filled the sky with many soaring tongues
beautiful.
and this ferocious battle, which started so long ago,
today still rages unabating, and shall yet proceed
because on their unceasing conflict
all Life depends.
Charlene Roberta McGee: smile1ladyfirestarter on March 15th, 2007 04:45 am (UTC)
Charlie can feel it, can feel Fire reaching to something -- something deeper, something higher, some more fundamental source --

-- and feels it answer, and gasps involuntarily as her own power surges up in response to meet it. Both the flame and the gasp are lost in the explosion, and for a split second -- gone almost before it comes -- she forgets everything else in the fiery glory surrounding them.

But then her focus is back, and fire isn't enough, not by itself, because left to its own devices fire will just burn indiscriminately. And they have a purpose here.
Don't
Charlie draws a deep breath (of air that smells of smoke and worse, but is impossibly cool enough to breathe without scorching her lungs) and reaches out to the swirling fire surrounding them.
you mess
And holds it, holds it ready.
with me
"Come on, you bastard," she whispers through a fierce grin. "Commala-come-come. Let me see you."
room1408: melting wall 1room1408 on March 16th, 2007 04:39 am (UTC)
The walls -- what's left of them after the firestorm -- are scorched and blackened now, as is everything else, but that doesn't matter.

What matters is that they're somehow wrong.

What matters is that every single furnishing in this room-- bed, dresser, lumpish chairs-- is somehow askew, somehow misshapen, somehow utterly grotesque, composed of lines and angles that refuse to resolve into any shape a human eye could truly see. Shapes that are somehow beyond earthly comprehension; shapes that are from somewhere else.

Somewhere OUTSIDE.

And it's from that place, that OUTSIDE, that it comes, shoving in past the yawning maw of the far wall, twisting reality as it passes through--

--and for a horrifying moment, they can feel their minds

 b
     e
       n
       d
       i
          n
            g


under the pressure. Under the wrongness.

And then suddenly everything shifts and compresses, as it fits (a part of) itself into this world, and the shape becomes sickeningly familiar.

For Beverly, it's Henry Bowers, knife in hand and with a maddened snarl twisting his moony, gaping grin.

To Charlie, it's her daddy, good old Andy McGee-- only Andy never looked quite like this. Never leered at her quite like this.

And for Fire, lovely Fire--

(there is a void between the stars)

--the seething, shifting darkness has a shape all its own.
Charlene Roberta McGee: firestarterladyfirestarter on March 16th, 2007 04:48 am (UTC)
That leer turns her stomach, but her hold on the fire doesn't waver.

"Whatever you're seeing," Charlie says, low and fierce, to herself as much as to the others, "it's not real."
Beverly Marsh: loser's clubbev_marsh on March 16th, 2007 04:58 am (UTC)
Bev flinches a little at the sight of Henry

(howyadoon, you little cunt?)

but she stands her ground.

"No you don't," she hisses. "You're not getting me like that again."

Beverly can't summon fire. Bev doesn't have anything left to fight this thing with but her mind, and after that moment of wrongness, she's sickeningly sure that that could be taken from her. But as long as it's hers, she'll use it to spit defiance at the creature facing them.
room1408: 1408room1408 on March 16th, 2007 05:36 am (UTC)
It laughs, jagged and wild with insane humor, a sound like shattering glass that cuts into their brains with its sharp edges, ripping at their sanity.

"Real as it gets, bitch," it (growls barks howls) says. "The realest thing there is. Don't you get it?"

It smiles, and its teeth (so many teeth) are sharp.

"Henry's mine, Bevvie. They took him to Juniper Hill, but I took him first. He's mine, just like you are. And so's poor Andy -- but oh, how he loved you, Charlie."

It leers again, drooling, looking her over.

(and all the while the Void -- so near a true shape, that horror -- whirls closer to Fire)

"Loved you enough to let you kill him."


(Meanwhile, it's hard to notice, hard to see... but the room is shrinking.)
Fire: the beginningbright_burning on March 19th, 2007 02:17 am (UTC)
Fire has given it her all. The fire, the living flame cannot (will not) be depleted, but the humanity which comes of getting too attached to a mortal body is reasserting itself. There is fear, here, in the back of her mind, fear and panic and hurting and the nothingness is there once again.

Flames still lick around the edges of the room, around her, little patterns under her skin and in her eyes, but it's weaker. Fading, just a little, flicking like a candle in the wind.

(she does not know if she can do this)

"Mother," she says, almost too quiet to hear.

(but she must)

"I'm sorry," she says, and she lifts her hands - burnt and blackened and trembling - to hold them palm-up, at what would be the ceiling. The sky, if you go far enough.

The flames roar and grow strong again, but without someone to focus them, they will not last.
Beverly Marsh: intentbev_marsh on March 20th, 2007 03:01 am (UTC)
(I ain't His.)

Bev lifts her chin, jaw tight. "You want Henry Bowers, you can have him."

(Whose are you, then?)

"You don't get us."

(We all belong.)

She wraps her hand around Charlie's and squeezes. "Whatever it's making you see, it doesn't matter. You have to finish it, Charlie."
Charlene Roberta McGee: daddy's little girlladyfirestarter on March 20th, 2007 03:11 am (UTC)
Charlie squeezes Bev's hand back, holds her free hand out towards Fire -- not touching, but reaching. And that's always been enough. Since her childhood, that's always been enough.

"We're finishing this now," she says aloud, and clenches her reaching hand into a fist.

And shoves the power out at the thing, hard.
room1408: melting wall 1room1408 on March 20th, 2007 03:50 am (UTC)
"Too bad you didn't get to love him back like you wanted, isn't it, Charlie, you filthy cunting whore?"

(bitch in heat)

"Daddy's little girl never got to be Daddy's BIG girl-- never got to fuck your daddy, did you?"

It grins then, ignoring Fire's whimper as it turns to Beverly, exultant, taking a step forward--

"And now it's too late. I've already got you!"

--and suddenly it's clear, it's easy to see, they're inside the room all this time they've been deceived because oh dear god they're INSIDE the room, inside that horrible maw as it begins to close around them, to SWALLOW them into some unthinkable abyss --

(an eternity of time)

-- and then the power

--the FIRE--


--strikes.


(No! Mustn't! MUSTN'T!)

The shriek is unreal, ear-shattering and mind-shattering, as the room explodes, bends, twists--

--and collapses inward, seeking if it must die to take them with it into eternal oblivion.
Charlene Roberta McGee: firestarterladyfirestarter on March 20th, 2007 04:21 am (UTC)
(The father is the authority figure. He holds the psychic reins of every fixation in the female child. Oral, anal, genital: behind each, like a shadowy figure standing behind a curtain, is the father-authority figure.)
Charlie almost freezes in shock and visceral disgust at the thing's words, even knowing that freezing will mean the end of them all --
(Our complexes always give us the most agony and psychic distress when those who have inculcated them die and pass beyond argument ... and mercy.)
-- until a dry, tough voice in her head says oh, we have come a long way from EVERY FRIEND IS NOW DEAD, haven't we.

(For some reason, it sounds a little like Ted Brautigan.)

And instead of freezing,

(I am talking about the potential for destruction)

Charlie

(Suppose you have a child capable of eventually creating a nuclear explosion simply by the force of her will?)

BURNS


-- and Bev Marsh is at her left hand, the girl's fierce bright will pouring in to join her own; and Serafine, Fire personified, is at her right, and right at this moment there is literally nothing that could stand against them.

And as she directs the fire outward, not at the lying image in front of them but at the thing's real shape all around them, Charlie screams at the top of her lungs:

"THIS IS FUCKING NINETEEN, YOU SON OF A BITCH."
room1408: 1408room1408 on March 20th, 2007 04:46 am (UTC)
It shrieks, shrieks, struggling to kill, to eat, to stay--

(MUST NOT! DEAD! NOT!)

--it wails, it howls, but now it is voiceless and fading, burning, losing thought and will and strength as first wallpaper and then plaster goes up with a roar of flame and force.

Glass shatters as the pictures fall from the walls, one after the other. The woman (wolf) in one vanishes in a puff of dust; in another, the crew of the sailing ship

(souls of the dead trapped for years upon years but not forever after all)

throw themselves overboard into the embrace of the sea and sink from view, crying out in jubilation at their release.

And the room burns, turning into ash before their eyes, the webbing falling apart, going out, reaching, finding nothing, emptiness, notness, crumbling into pieces, into cinders, into the deadlights, into nothing.

(the party is over)

--THUMP--


The sound shakes the whole hotel. It's the sound of reality remaking itself, settling back into normalcy as the otherworldy edges and angles vanish.

And then there's nothing left.

Nothing but a room.
(no subject) - bright_burning on March 20th, 2007 04:53 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - bev_marsh on March 20th, 2007 05:06 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - ladyfirestarter on March 20th, 2007 05:18 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - bev_marsh on March 20th, 2007 05:23 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - bright_burning on March 20th, 2007 05:25 am (UTC) (Expand)