this took a couple days to write but i couldn’t get the idea out of my head! then it just kind of spiraled out of control and idk…whatever this is happened :0)
summary: the subway scene, from the woman’s (your) perspective. a mix of the scene as it happens canonically then a few liberties taken and an alternate ending.
warnings: scary subway sequence, nearly beat for beat. mentions of blood. NSFW.
I hate it when dudes try to chase me.
But I love it when you try to save me,
`Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!’ said Alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, `It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.’…**
Your eyes skimmed over the page as the train hurtled along the tracks. You were on your way home, half engrossed in your book, half daydreaming about what you would make for dinner. You had gotten out of work late; you usually avoided traveling at this time of night.
It was quite a crowd in your car tonight. You had cast your eyes sideways – a habit you had fallen into as you never quite knew what to expect on the subway and had to keep your guard up. Just in case.
Mostly the other folks seemed just like you – tired office workers, maintenance workers, students, etc. on their way home, the long day finally almost behind them.
One person in particular couldn’t help but catch your eye – a thin man whose head hung low on his shoulders, a strange aura of sadness and utter defeat radiating from him. It was an ironic sight considering he was dressed head to toe like a party clown. His ensemble included patchworked trousers that were about 4 inches too short, revealing aging, threadbare white socks; a vest covering a button-down shirt decorated with a playing cards pattern; a red and gold tie, still neatly clinging to his neck; and, to top it all off, a puffy, neon green wig covered his head, dark hair curling out from underneath. You hadn’t realized you had been staring until he turned and glanced in your direction, his eyes ever so briefly locking with yours.
You turned back to your book, your cheeks burning. How embarrassing, not to mention rude of you to be staring at someone. You tried to focus back on the words on the page.
janainaart
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
germansingergirl
