Categories > Celebrities > The Used

Take It Away

by Cerediwen 2 reviews

Damning light and life

Category: The Used - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst - Published: 2007-03-18 - Updated: 2007-03-18 - 424 words - Complete

A/N: You know when you just know you need to write a fic for something? Like really need to or it'll haunt you until you do? Well I was reading a profile for the Used and I never finished it but today I went back and read what I hadn't and I found this at the very end -

Those nocturnal qualities infuse In Love And Death. And on songs such as "Take It Away," Bert actually damns light, love and life itself. But within that total negation, you can hear a blood-sick hope in his voice, a hint of optimism that one day the sun will rise and he'll be there to meet it--and maybe even bask a little--rather than retreat once again into the shadows to blot old wounds. As he puts it, "Something very big is about to happen. I feel it. I've always felt it."

And I needed to write for it, so I am and here you go...


Everything is dark, pitch black, ebony, dressed in funeral garb and even the moon, his precious silver disc has deserted him; run away to hide behind the gathering storm clouds, swirling into a thundering mass above his head. With the storm comes the rain, huge droplets, soaking him to the bone on contact raining down on him like cannon balls, determined to drive inside to the warm, where the lights still dwell. He just raised his pale features higher, the water running between his parched lips as he smiles almost manically up at the angry sky. It can't hurt him, nothing can hurt him anymore. Indestructible, irreversible and irretrievable for as long as the blood flows through his limbs. In the houses around the place, the houses that may as well not exist, people shelter and hide from the weather, scared of the crashing thunder and the pouring rain that leaks through the roofs of their houses and soaks their belongings. He laughs to himself as he thinks of them, still standing in the rain. He hopes the storm will hit his family, hit his friends, and hit his stupid religion like a punch in the face. He hopes they bleed, he hopes they scream, he hopes they get lost six foot under.
Standing there in the mist of a storm, his jeans sticking to his legs and his t-shirt soaked so badly its gone see-through, converse ruined by mud and water he throws his head back and laughs.
No one can hurt him. Not ever again.

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