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Pandora

Kinda SORTA fanfic...

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Pandora

I guess this is kinda fanfic. It has the Force and lightsabers in it, so...

A few things before I post the story though. It's actually from a convo/RP with Ewing (yes, it's perfectly clean and safe to read) that turned into me writing a story in the IM box, lol.

BUT this is your warning: it's creepy, and sometimes down-right gruesome. If you have a week stomach, don't read. I don't want you barfing on your computer or anything...

It's coming in the next post. And please, tell me what you think!

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Pandora

The electricity in the apartment suddenly goes out and it's pitch-black. She stifles a gasp. ?Ewing... did you do that??

When he doesn't answer her, she slowly--very slowly--walks to where she thinks he was right before the lights went out and feels around in the dark for him. He's not there. She reaches out through the Force to try to find him. She doesn't feel him in the room, so she expands her search to include the whole apartment. She still doesn't find him, not even the echo of him blocking her.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her steadily growing nerves, and mutters to herself in the dark. ?Okay, so he just went somewhere and didn't tell me. He'll be back in a few minutes, I bet."

She goes into the kitchen to get a flashlight out of the drawer. It's not there. ?Odd.?" She goes into the bedroom and puts on a flight suit and feels the pockets for her lighter. It's not there. She opens the dresser drawer she keeps all of her candles in and pulls out a bag of tea lights and starts feeling around for her lighter.

It's nowhere to be found. ?Now this is REALLY odd. I never leave my lighter laying around..."

Rain starts to steadily pour down, tapping loudly on the roof as she goes over to the bedroom window and opens the curtains to let what light there might be outside in the room. A slight, greenish glow comes through the window. She looks up at the sky at the thunderheads moving visibly towards her; the greenish glow coming from the clouds is disturbingly familiar.

?Tornado weather.? She watches as the front-lines glide on a collision course with each other. Looks like a nasty one...

She turns away from the window and digs around in the closet for a blanket, just in case. As she stands back up a strange shadow falls across the room. She looks at the window but it's too dark now for her to see the cause of it.

When she reaches the window to investigate, a clap of thunder that sounds like it's right on top of her rumbles overhead without any lightning. ?That's really, REALLY odd...? She looks out the window, trying to get a view of the sky. An almost blinding flash of lightning reveals the source of the shadow: someone's standing outside her window. She stifles a scream and draws her light saber. Squelching down her fear, she takes a step towards the window.

The white light of her blade gives enough illumination for her to identify the figure. What she sees makes her drop her lightsaber and stumble backwards. No matter how hard she tries, though, she can't take her eyes off the person in the window.

The person is herself, skin cold and pale with death, neck swollen around a rope suspending her from some unseen gallows.

But she doesn't care to see what she hung from. The fact that she sees herself swinging from a noose in the rain is enough to turn her stomach into a cold, hard knot. In a daze, she stumbles towards the bathroom with every intention of being sick. On instinct she tries the light switch, but isn't surprised when they don't come on. Instead she concentrates on the power failure in an attempt to distract her mind from the sight of her own corpse.

The rotten, warm smell of decay fills her nose, churning her stomach all over again. The lights flicker as if the techs at the substation are trying to get back-up power on. In the brief illumination, she sees another body. This one is lying as if having fallen from a kneeling position, lying in a pool of vomit; thick, deep red rivulets of blood trickle away from the corpse as if chasing her.

Just before the lights flicker back off, she notices an empty prescription medication bottle, crushed in the body's hand, and three more scattered about the bathroom counter, the caps discarded on the floor.

She would've screamed if her stomach hadn't decided to force its contents back the way they came first. She backs out of the bathroom quickly before the smell makes her sick again, wishing she could claw the image out of her mind. She goes into the kitchen to rinse her mouth out at the sink.

She feels something wet on the counter as she grips the side of the sink. Her finger tips dip into the sink and touch water that was not long before quite warm. She opens the curtains of the window over the sink and stares out of it at the storm, knowing what she'll see when she looks down, and not wanting to look for anything in the world, but feeling as if she must. With a deep breath she looks down at the sink. All at once she feels that she's standing outside of her own body.

Following that realization is another: she's not longer at the sink she went to, but rather standing in front of the sink in her parents' house. In the sink are the dishes she was washing, but she doesn't seem to remember filling the sink with water. She doesn't even remember walking into the kitchen.

Her cheeks are wet and when she licks her lips she tastes saline, but doesn't realize beyond that that she's crying... or was crying at some point.

She stares at the sink, trying to concentrate on the soap-bubbles floating in the luke-warm water, but finds herself unable to concentrate on much of anything. She hears a small splash and a clunk. She looks to the source of the noise and sees a table knife at the bottom of the sink where she?d heard the clunk.

She didn?t even realize she'd been holding it.

She squints through the dark to see it better through the water, which, she vaguely notices, is turning a slow shade of red.

The white bubbles of soap are pink where the knife had fallen in the water. Suddenly she is aware of a stinging sensation on her wrists. She releases her grip on the side of the sink. Slowly she raises her hands closer to her face. As she does so, she feels something warm slide down her forearms, from her wrists to her elbows, to drip onto the floor.

The stinging sensation is coming from a vertical slash on each of her wrists, that spans from the heel of her palm about three and a half inches toward her forearm. The warm something going down her arm is her own blood pouring from her own wrists. And with it went her strength.

She collapses to the floor much like she had those few years ago, only this time she isn?t crying with fear of what she had ALMOST done. This time she is not crying, she is cursing.

She is cursing her Guardian Angel for not saving her this time.

A voice speaks from her right shoulder at a whisper: "You never asked to be saved. You didn't want me to help you this time."

Her Guardian Angel always spoke to her over her left shoulder. ?This can't possibly be real...?

Again from her right shoulder, more loudly and clearly: "It's real enough."

For the first time in her life she feels completely alone. Even her Angel has abandoned her. With her last bit of strength she forces part of herself past her barrier of numbness to half-awareness.

All that effort just to get a dish towel off the counter.

She uses even more effort to actually hold it between her slit wrists. It becomes red and soaked with blood quickly, dripping onto her lap. She drags herself to her feet, dropping the towel.

She gets another one, which she lashes to her left wrist with a rubber band she finds on the counter. She does the same thing with the right. Before long those towels are completely soaked as well. Then if finally dawns on her that she should be unconscious by now, and she isn't even the slightest bit dizzy.

The lights come back on and stay on, and the storm passes soon after.

But she's still bleeding and not dying, not even aware of any part of her body except for her wrists. For a fleeting moment she wonders if she's already in hell. She almost laughs at herself for it, reminding herself that she's not going to hell because there is no such place.

That is, besides her kitchen, being trapped in a perpetual state of feeling nothing but her wrists, not being able to think of anything else but the same thought over and over again: Why can't I just die?

(The End. :lomin: And no, it doesn't have a title. Anyone have an idea?)

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Andy

Is that it?

No offence meant... I did tell you on MSN that I'm not a big fan of horror... Umm... *runs*

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CorSec

lol....I'll probably read this when I have time. But I've said that in almost every other FanFic in the forum and never seem to read em anyway. No offence to any Authors. I'm just lazy and never seem to have "time" to read them...

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chozen

lol....I'll probably read this when I have time. But I've said that in almost every other FanFic in the forum and never seem to read em anyway. No offence to any Authors. I'm just lazy and never seem to have "time" to read them...

I'm with Corsec..

And i'm with beeurd.. That sucked!

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Andy

I didn't say it sucked, I just said I don't like horror... 'tis boring.

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Pandora

Thank you, DK.

*grabs one of Beeurd's tomatos and shoves it down Chozen's throat.* If you're going to say you didn't care for it, tell me why. :lomin:

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chozen

lol, I was trying to piss you off. :p

Nah, I just don't like the perspective it;s written in.

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Pandora

I'm rewriting it. I'll post what I come up with when I come up with something else, lol.

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