[Reviews - 64]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 5962 times

- Text Size +




Hell

The darkness was near unbearable. But not nearly so much as the screams. Ragged and tortured they filled the blackened charcoal air, never-ending. Tormented souls, lost and trapped in this place. Like her.
Her bare feet flew over the charred ground, her breath leaving her lungs in labored gasps. How long had she been running? She didn’t know. It felt like forever. Slipping along the loose gravel, the palms of her hands scraping against rough stones drawing blood as she scrambled up the incline of the volcanic mound.
A blood chilling screech. Close behind. Keep moving. Keep moving. Her chest ached, her muscles screamed in protest. She grabbed an outcrop, pulling herself forward. Another screech, closer still. Move. Move. Move.
Hot lava trailed along the blackened earth beside her, it’s heat making her flinch. They hated the lava. So did she. The stones were becoming hotter, harder to hold on to. She could feel the flesh on her hands blistering. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just move.
Long talons embedding in her back, tearing through flesh and muscle. Don’t think. Act. Move. Instinct. Lashing out with her foot, connecting a solid mule kick. Move. Move. More are coming. Move! Hauling herself up, belly scraping rough terrain. Another attack, teeth sinking into her shoulder from behind. A screech of satisfaction.
Roll. Into the lava. Another screech as the molten rocks scorch the creature from her back. Good, that’s done. Now, move.
Finding her footing she stumbled forward, heedless of the crimson trickling down her back from her wounds. She had to keep moving. To rest was to die. Taking a deep breath she plunged through a sulfur cloud, moving towards the upper crest of the volcano. She had to get where they would not follow. A burst of hot lava streaming from between separating rocks, splashing her, searing her.
She wiped the red-hot molten rock from her arm hurriedly, her eyes catching a glimmer of something shiny on her hand. Wiping away the blackened soot revealed three beautiful stones. She felt a familiar ache in her chest. She could see him in her mind. Dark, menacing, long metal claws extended from the backs of his hands. His snarling face didn’t frighten her though, instead she found it soothing, consoling. In her darkest moments when she was sure she would lose what little sanity she had left, she would picture him in her mind and be comforted. She loved him. She needed to remember him. She would be lost otherwise.
She was close to the summit now, the air all but un-breathable with sulfur and brimstone. She got a flash of a furry blue face and swooshing tale.
Screeching. No time to reminisce, keep moving. Her foot slipped. No! She slid along the crumbling surface, tender flash being cut and burned as she dropped twenty feet, her hands frantically trying to find purchase in the jutting rocks. She caught one, stopping her decent with a painful jerk. Gritting her teeth, body exhausted beyond endurance she struggled forward again. Keep moving! To stop is to die! She raged at herself. Her arms shook with effort as she clung to the blistering stones, heaving herself over the burnt soil once again. A rivulet of sweat trailed down her back, stinging her open wounds. She grimaced. Maybe death wasn’t such a bad option… she breathed heavily, puffing black soot into the air, her face buried in the dirt, arms stretched over her head as she lay fatigued. Bloodthirsty screeching. Was there no reprieve? No. This is what happens when you lock yourself in Hell, she thought angrily. Keep moving, no giving up. Just keep moving. One step at a time. Only a little further now...
She covered the ground quickly, her body passing fatigue and moving numbly over the singed earth. There was no life here. No flowers, no trees. Nothing. This cursed place was nothing but molten rock, heat and ash, crawling with demons and nightmares that she could never have dreamed up even in the darkest regions of her mind.
Reaching a small outcropping of rocks that jutted towards the open mouth of the volcano she sat. Her bare legs dangling over the open mouth, staring at the boiling, bubbling, glowing liquid. Overhead she could hear the frustrated shrieks of the demons chasing her. It was endless. She battled everyday against these nightmares made real, and the battles were taking their toll. She had stopped sleeping a long time ago, dozing for no more than ten minutes at a time, out of fear that they would find her and devour her as she’d seen them do to each other.
She had made weapons from stones, stealing others from the demons for protection. She was skilled at hand to hand, and she was relentless. Mercy would get her killed. There was no room for it here.
She looked down again. In the lava she caught sight of a silver and black shimmer just below the surface. She knew what that was. A slipstream. She had felt it only recently and had at first dismissed it as wishful thinking on her part, but here she was looking at a possible doorway home. A doorway under a scorching layer of lava, she reminded herself.
Leaning back on the unsteady rocks she closed her eyes. She caressed the ring on her hand lovingly. She imagined a rough graveled voice whispering in her ear. “I love ya, baby.” She smiled. “I love you…Logan!” She sat straight up. Logan. Logan. Logan.
She rose to her feet, a bit unsteady. No one said this was going to be easy. Taking a deep steadying breath she pictured Logan in her mind, His steel eyes, his crooked smile, his wild hair, and the steady drum of his heart under her ear. “Time to go home.” She closed her eyes, spreading her arms wide and freefalling into the orange glow.


New York
Night

Wolverine stood on one of the wooden boating docks that littered the lake outside of the Xavier Institute in Westchester, New York, skipping flat stones across it, watching them drop into the water. He had come out here to try and relax after a particularly bad nightmare. He had woke up in the middle of the night, her name on his lips and visions of her being ravaged by demonic creatures burned into his brain.
She’d be gone two years tonight and though most things had returned close to normal, nothing had ever felt the same for him. Logan had taken her death the hardest he had ever taken anything. Many thought he would go rogue or revert to some base animal killing machine, that’s how bad it got. But in the end he had adjusted to, if not accepted, the fact that she was gone.
Surprisingly the one person who shared his grief and rage was the Cajun. Well, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise. They had both loved her, each in their own way, and Gambit had come to realize that no one would love Storm the way Wolverine did.
Gambit loved her differently. He loved her in away that defied any love the man had known before. It wasn’t physical, although Logan was sure Gumbo wasn’t immune to having had naughty thoughts about his beloved “sister”, but instead his and Storm’s relationship had been more spiritual in nature. Without her to talk to Gambit had fallen into a deep depression. He had even contemplated leaving the team, but Wolverine had talked him out of it. Telling him that she would’ve wanted him to continue to fight the good fight.
Wolverine grumbled thinking of his and Gambit’s earlier argument. Once again they were not seeing things eye to eye. They had damn near dismantled the Danger Room with their heated “discussion”.
He sighed, plopping down onto creaking planks. His mind once again returning to Storm. She had always read him wrong, he mused. She saw him as a hero, he knew this because she’d told him that more than once over the years, but he wasn’t. He was a killer, a fraud and a liar. But she had loved him anyways.
He rested his chin on his palm, elbow on his upturned knee. He’d never known anyone like her. She had loved him unconditionally. She had remained true. His best friend, his lover, his soul.
From the corner of his eye he saw a shooting star. Make a wish Logan, he heard Storm’s velvet voice in his mind, remembering back to a time they had sat beside this very lake watching the night sky, wrapped in each others arms.
“What did you wish for?” She had asked.
“That you and me would always be together.” He had answered.
She had laughed. “You are not supposed to tell me.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Do not worry, Logan. I will always be here for you.”
Now, he closed his eyes, chest tight, muttering under his breath, “Liar.” When he opened his eyes again it was in time to see a flaming rift open in the sky directly above the lake and a small heap crash into the lake, sending a plume of water fifty feet in the air, showering cold water across his hair and face.
Wolverine leaned over the edge of the dock, peering into the darkness. “What the hell?”
A steaming silver haired angel surfaced from the shallow waters, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, pulling his head down and kissed him quick and hard on the mouth, saying, “I am home!”
“’Ro?” His voice caught.
She grinned up at him from the water.
“It is you!” Wolverine’s heart was in his throat, his vision blurry.
Ororo reached up, her fingers caressing the warm stubble of his cheek, her eyes soft. “Do not just gape at me like you have never seen a naked woman tumbling from the sky before. Help me out.” Wolverine was shaking so bad he wasn’t sure he could help her out, but he clasped his hand over hers, pulling her limp form from the water.
She landed on the dock with a wet flop. After a moment she rolled over, wiping long strands of singed white hair from her face, smiling. She was home. Logan! She sat up and looked at him. His face was positively comical. His black eyes were wide, and his mouth was moving but nothing was coming out.
“Hello, sunshine,” she whispered, leaning towards him. Arms like bands of steel wrapped around her, hauling her against him. His mouth claimed hers enthusiastically, his hands tangling in the wet mass of her hair, pulling her closer still. She clung to him as he buried his face against her neck, great heaving sobs wracking his body. She stroked his thick ebony hair, murmuring soothing sounds against his temple, but soon she too was overcome by her emotions, crying and clinging to him. They sat that way for a long time, crying and making wordless sounds of comfort for each other.
Logan pulled back, eyes roaming over her face. Good God, it was her. She was dirty and mangy and beautiful. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Ororo smiled tenderly, her hand cradling his cheek. She was home and in his arms again. She sighed, content to be held by him.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a cozy little scene. But I suggest, Storm, that you take your hands off my husband!”





You must login () to review.