Stargate Atlanti/SPN snippet
May. 2nd, 2007 11:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amalthiaSome time ago I created a writing LJ community to post my fics in but I stopped writing for a while and I didn't see a need for it however if I'm able to write as much as I'm planning I may end up using the community to post my fics/snippets of practice writing there. Will have to see how this turns out first. in the meantime...
just realized it may not hurt to share the link to White Sands
Sand filled his ragged blue striped sneakers, every time John stumbled in a loose patch of sand. His legs grew weaker as his body started to shut down from dehydration. Faint tire tracks on the shifting sandbanks were his only hope of making it back to the main road. There was no time and he had no energy to stop and empty out his shoes. So the sand seeped through his socks, the fine grains rubbing against his bare skin until he bled. John ignored this new pain on top of his older hurts.
Intense heat battered him from all sides, from the ground and from above. Sweat stung the abrasions on his chest, arms, and back, his thin t-shirt and faded jeans offered no protection when Donald shoved him out the moving van onto the hard packed sand littered with rocks and bones. However, given the choice between a bullet in the head or a chance to walk back to civilization, John optimistically picked the long walk, just hadn't realized he'd start with sand in his mouth scrapped knees and elbows, and a new bump on his head.
It took four hours of dehydration, walking, and with no sign of the highway in sight before he realized he might not actually survive this. Fighting the urge to cry; he gritted his teeth and plodded onwards, no use crying about what happened. He was here now and just had to make do, as his dad would say.
John looked up to gauge how far he had to go still. Out across the flat desert plain heat waves shimmered off the brown desert floor, and the blue sky stretched onwards forever. Not even a scraggly tree in sight. John bit back a sob of frustration, he wanted to cry this just wasn't fair, but that wouldn't get him to the road any faster. The road couldn't be too much further away, however in the back of the van without his wrist watch it was hard to guess how long Travis had driven across the desert before they decided it was a good time to throw him out. For all he knew he was still twenty miles away from the highway or it could be just over the horizon.
At fourteen, John was still one of the shortest guys in his class. Last picked for every sport and not popular, he didn't care because they never stayed in one place long enough for it to matter. Though right now he really wished he had longer legs, he didn’t want to die out here, not alone. That last thought spurred him onwards.
The tire tracks grew fainter as gusts of wind swept the sand into whirlwinds. He picked up the pace forcing his burning legs and numb feet to go faster, but not ten minutes later he slowed back down to his original plodding walk. Not enough energy left to sustain any speed.
Hours later, with the sun at his back he hit the embankment of the highway; he froze unable to quite believe he had made it. He tapped it with his foot, making sure he wasn't seeing things. It felt real enough.
He stood on the shoulder of the road for ten minutes before he realized there were no cars coming in either direction. A busted down sign read Death Valley five miles. Unsure which direction to head, north or south, John decided to stay where he was and rest for a while. Dizzy and exhausted, it wasn't a hard decision to make; he sat down before he fell over.
The sun began to sink beneath the horizon when he heard the rumble of an engine. Already waiting over twenty minutes, his heart leapt in his chest. Rescue! But as he stood up and staggered into the middle of the road, it hit him what if it was Travis and Donald coming back to finish the job? What if they didn’t kill him but kept him with them? Either way, he’d never get to finish high school, go to the Air Force Academy, and fly airplanes like he dreamed of his whole life.
He scanned his surroundings, flat desert in every direction, not even a decent sized scrub bush. Realizing, there was no where to run to if it was the men who had kidnapped him, gave John a sense of peace in standing his ground waiting as the engine noise grew louder.
Less than five minutes later a 1967 Impala pulled over off the side of the road and a man got out of the car, John swayed on his feet. Too weak to run anyway he realized hysterically.
"Hey, are you okay?" The man approached and John backed away wary of trusting another stranger.
The man ran his hand through his hair and glanced back at the car, probably asking himself if John was worth this hassle. A pretty woman with blonde hair waved her hand at him. A little kid had his face plastered against the back window. "Look I'm not going to hurt you. I'm with my wife and son. I promise I'm here to help you." He held out his hand asking John to trust him.
John grabbed the hand and let the man lead him back to the car; surely a man wouldn't...his mind faltered on that train of thought, not wanting to remember the last three weeks in Travis's and Donald's company. His legs buckled halfway to the car but the man easily kept him from falling. "Easy there, boy, we're almost there."
The driver's door was already open when they got to the car and the man let him sit down on the seat while he went around to the trunk. John shivered finally noticing how clammy his palms felt against the leather seat.
"What's your name?" The little boy in the back seat poked his head over the side. John opened his cracked and dried mouth before he realized he couldn't talk.
"Dean, leave the boy alone." The woman with blonde hair ordered, too pregnant to twist around and scold him properly. "Honey, my name is Mary Winchester and that's my husband, getting you some water from our water cooler. You'll be okay." She patted him on the arm while he sat their shivering and shaking, still not quite believing he wasn't dead yet.
The trunk slammed close making the whole car shake and Mr. Winchester came back to his side. "Here, drink this," he handed John a small blue plastic cup filled to the brim with water, which was good since he spilled quite a bit when he grabbed the cup with his shaking hand. Without asking, his rescuer helped him steady his hand until he could finish what was left in the cup. He drank every drop of water and while John went back to get more for him, he licked the water that had dripped on his hands, never minding the bit of blood and dirt mixed in.
After his second cup of water, Mr. Winchester pushed him the rest of the way into the car and climbed in after and started up the engine. John stuck in the middle inched closer to Mary, feeling safer near a woman. "We're going to take you to the hospital." Mr. Winchester announced as he pulled back onto the road.
Mary wrapped her arm around John's shoulder and pulled him even closer. She smelled like flowers and home, and he almost felt bad for dirtying her clothes with sweat, dirt, and blood, as he rested his head on her shoulder.
The kid, Dean, played with his toy cars and sometimes talked to himself. John wished he could easily ignore the strained silence in the front seat. Mr. Winchester focused completely on the task of driving didn't spare his attention for small talk, for which John was grateful. Mary's cool hand on his shoulder kept him from fidgeting as he watched the sun set across the golden brown desert along the highway. The last reddish pink rays of light faded from the sky as they passed a gas station with one lonely car parked in front.
More cars appeared on the road, as they came closer to Las Vegas, their headlights bright after the dark of the desert. John lost track of time staring out the window taking in everything he saw. Street lights appeared before they entered the valley and the city proper. Soon more signs of civilization began to appear, buildings, more cars, construction signs, and soon an exit indicating where to go reach the local hospital. Mr. Winchester took the exit and drove slowly. John fought to stay awake at this point, exhaustion ambushing him, but he needed to make sure Mr. Winchester didn't get lost. However, his eyes felt overwhelmed by all the buildings, street signs, and cars.
Mary lowered her arm from around his shoulder and opened the glove box and pulled out a map. "I'm not lost." Mr. Winchester said while they sat at another red light.
"I'm just checking to see if the map has any information that can help, John." She continued to open the map until it unfolded over onto John's lap.
"Over there." She pointed to the right, seeing something they'd both missed.
just realized it may not hurt to share the link to White Sands
Sand filled his ragged blue striped sneakers, every time John stumbled in a loose patch of sand. His legs grew weaker as his body started to shut down from dehydration. Faint tire tracks on the shifting sandbanks were his only hope of making it back to the main road. There was no time and he had no energy to stop and empty out his shoes. So the sand seeped through his socks, the fine grains rubbing against his bare skin until he bled. John ignored this new pain on top of his older hurts.
Intense heat battered him from all sides, from the ground and from above. Sweat stung the abrasions on his chest, arms, and back, his thin t-shirt and faded jeans offered no protection when Donald shoved him out the moving van onto the hard packed sand littered with rocks and bones. However, given the choice between a bullet in the head or a chance to walk back to civilization, John optimistically picked the long walk, just hadn't realized he'd start with sand in his mouth scrapped knees and elbows, and a new bump on his head.
It took four hours of dehydration, walking, and with no sign of the highway in sight before he realized he might not actually survive this. Fighting the urge to cry; he gritted his teeth and plodded onwards, no use crying about what happened. He was here now and just had to make do, as his dad would say.
John looked up to gauge how far he had to go still. Out across the flat desert plain heat waves shimmered off the brown desert floor, and the blue sky stretched onwards forever. Not even a scraggly tree in sight. John bit back a sob of frustration, he wanted to cry this just wasn't fair, but that wouldn't get him to the road any faster. The road couldn't be too much further away, however in the back of the van without his wrist watch it was hard to guess how long Travis had driven across the desert before they decided it was a good time to throw him out. For all he knew he was still twenty miles away from the highway or it could be just over the horizon.
At fourteen, John was still one of the shortest guys in his class. Last picked for every sport and not popular, he didn't care because they never stayed in one place long enough for it to matter. Though right now he really wished he had longer legs, he didn’t want to die out here, not alone. That last thought spurred him onwards.
The tire tracks grew fainter as gusts of wind swept the sand into whirlwinds. He picked up the pace forcing his burning legs and numb feet to go faster, but not ten minutes later he slowed back down to his original plodding walk. Not enough energy left to sustain any speed.
Hours later, with the sun at his back he hit the embankment of the highway; he froze unable to quite believe he had made it. He tapped it with his foot, making sure he wasn't seeing things. It felt real enough.
He stood on the shoulder of the road for ten minutes before he realized there were no cars coming in either direction. A busted down sign read Death Valley five miles. Unsure which direction to head, north or south, John decided to stay where he was and rest for a while. Dizzy and exhausted, it wasn't a hard decision to make; he sat down before he fell over.
The sun began to sink beneath the horizon when he heard the rumble of an engine. Already waiting over twenty minutes, his heart leapt in his chest. Rescue! But as he stood up and staggered into the middle of the road, it hit him what if it was Travis and Donald coming back to finish the job? What if they didn’t kill him but kept him with them? Either way, he’d never get to finish high school, go to the Air Force Academy, and fly airplanes like he dreamed of his whole life.
He scanned his surroundings, flat desert in every direction, not even a decent sized scrub bush. Realizing, there was no where to run to if it was the men who had kidnapped him, gave John a sense of peace in standing his ground waiting as the engine noise grew louder.
Less than five minutes later a 1967 Impala pulled over off the side of the road and a man got out of the car, John swayed on his feet. Too weak to run anyway he realized hysterically.
"Hey, are you okay?" The man approached and John backed away wary of trusting another stranger.
The man ran his hand through his hair and glanced back at the car, probably asking himself if John was worth this hassle. A pretty woman with blonde hair waved her hand at him. A little kid had his face plastered against the back window. "Look I'm not going to hurt you. I'm with my wife and son. I promise I'm here to help you." He held out his hand asking John to trust him.
John grabbed the hand and let the man lead him back to the car; surely a man wouldn't...his mind faltered on that train of thought, not wanting to remember the last three weeks in Travis's and Donald's company. His legs buckled halfway to the car but the man easily kept him from falling. "Easy there, boy, we're almost there."
The driver's door was already open when they got to the car and the man let him sit down on the seat while he went around to the trunk. John shivered finally noticing how clammy his palms felt against the leather seat.
"What's your name?" The little boy in the back seat poked his head over the side. John opened his cracked and dried mouth before he realized he couldn't talk.
"Dean, leave the boy alone." The woman with blonde hair ordered, too pregnant to twist around and scold him properly. "Honey, my name is Mary Winchester and that's my husband, getting you some water from our water cooler. You'll be okay." She patted him on the arm while he sat their shivering and shaking, still not quite believing he wasn't dead yet.
The trunk slammed close making the whole car shake and Mr. Winchester came back to his side. "Here, drink this," he handed John a small blue plastic cup filled to the brim with water, which was good since he spilled quite a bit when he grabbed the cup with his shaking hand. Without asking, his rescuer helped him steady his hand until he could finish what was left in the cup. He drank every drop of water and while John went back to get more for him, he licked the water that had dripped on his hands, never minding the bit of blood and dirt mixed in.
After his second cup of water, Mr. Winchester pushed him the rest of the way into the car and climbed in after and started up the engine. John stuck in the middle inched closer to Mary, feeling safer near a woman. "We're going to take you to the hospital." Mr. Winchester announced as he pulled back onto the road.
Mary wrapped her arm around John's shoulder and pulled him even closer. She smelled like flowers and home, and he almost felt bad for dirtying her clothes with sweat, dirt, and blood, as he rested his head on her shoulder.
The kid, Dean, played with his toy cars and sometimes talked to himself. John wished he could easily ignore the strained silence in the front seat. Mr. Winchester focused completely on the task of driving didn't spare his attention for small talk, for which John was grateful. Mary's cool hand on his shoulder kept him from fidgeting as he watched the sun set across the golden brown desert along the highway. The last reddish pink rays of light faded from the sky as they passed a gas station with one lonely car parked in front.
More cars appeared on the road, as they came closer to Las Vegas, their headlights bright after the dark of the desert. John lost track of time staring out the window taking in everything he saw. Street lights appeared before they entered the valley and the city proper. Soon more signs of civilization began to appear, buildings, more cars, construction signs, and soon an exit indicating where to go reach the local hospital. Mr. Winchester took the exit and drove slowly. John fought to stay awake at this point, exhaustion ambushing him, but he needed to make sure Mr. Winchester didn't get lost. However, his eyes felt overwhelmed by all the buildings, street signs, and cars.
Mary lowered her arm from around his shoulder and opened the glove box and pulled out a map. "I'm not lost." Mr. Winchester said while they sat at another red light.
"I'm just checking to see if the map has any information that can help, John." She continued to open the map until it unfolded over onto John's lap.
"Over there." She pointed to the right, seeing something they'd both missed.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-03 03:05 pm (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2007-05-03 03:50 pm (UTC)