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ficinabottle2005-02-21 08:24 pm
dustyirish2003.livejournal.com) wrote in ficinabottle2005-02-21 08:24 pm
Entry tags:
FICLET: A STUDY IN MADNESS- Ethan-centric- R for *dark topic* and language
Title: A Study in Madness- 389 words
Author: Jen
Character: Ethan
Pairing: none
Rated: R for dark topic, disturbing images
Feedback: Would be adored! : )
A/N: I was looking through the past challenges over at Lost100 and saw the 'write a character you normally dislike writing' one, and hit on this idea. Sometimes I despair at how dark and twisted of a place my subconscious is. *g* This is set before Ethan's demise, of course, and when he's unaware that the others are on to him. I completely made up his disturbing back story, of course, but it seemed to fit, somehow. ; ) - Jen
His name was no more Ethan than it was Santa Claus. In another lifetime, before the island, he had been called Thomas Leroy Manning, but such things as names had ceased to exist long ago.
He wondered if the morons who comprised the police force back in Seattle were still searching for him after all of these years. Probably. The idiots couldn’t find their own asses in a high wind. He’d been right under their noses the entire time, posing effortlessly as one of their own. He’d stood back and watched with glee as big, strong men had turned into whining, sniveling babies at the sight of his masterpieces. It had taken all of his willpower not to laugh in their faces as they ran around like headless chickens. He’d left them clues at regular intervals, handed himself to them on a platter. And still they had not seen what they were facing.
The Oceanic airliner was the third vessel to be marooned on the island since Ethan had arrived. There had been countless others before his time. The island took what it wanted with no reservations, no emotion. Ethan could relate to that. He did the same. They were brothers, the island being the only true family he had ever known.
How Ethan laughed, now, at the one called Locke, the one who fancied himself such a great hunter. Ethan had followed closely behind him, marking the trail subtly, confusing the mighty hunter and his witless Boy Wonder at every turn. They were all putty in his hands.
The musician had been beautiful in his own way. Ethan had been almost sorry to see him go, could have found uses for him. But the island wanted him gone, and it always got what it wanted. And, in the end, Ethan was glad to watch him die; the stupid sheep had gasped out not pleas for his own life, but only prayers that the woman would be spared.
Ethan cared nothing for the little mother; she was merely a vessel. He would revel in her screams till he tired of them, then cut the child from her belly, ending her miserable life and ensuring his own rise to power.
And what a glorious occasion that would be.
The moment when he held his son in his arms for the first time.
end.
Author: Jen
Character: Ethan
Pairing: none
Rated: R for dark topic, disturbing images
Feedback: Would be adored! : )
A/N: I was looking through the past challenges over at Lost100 and saw the 'write a character you normally dislike writing' one, and hit on this idea. Sometimes I despair at how dark and twisted of a place my subconscious is. *g* This is set before Ethan's demise, of course, and when he's unaware that the others are on to him. I completely made up his disturbing back story, of course, but it seemed to fit, somehow. ; ) - Jen
His name was no more Ethan than it was Santa Claus. In another lifetime, before the island, he had been called Thomas Leroy Manning, but such things as names had ceased to exist long ago.
He wondered if the morons who comprised the police force back in Seattle were still searching for him after all of these years. Probably. The idiots couldn’t find their own asses in a high wind. He’d been right under their noses the entire time, posing effortlessly as one of their own. He’d stood back and watched with glee as big, strong men had turned into whining, sniveling babies at the sight of his masterpieces. It had taken all of his willpower not to laugh in their faces as they ran around like headless chickens. He’d left them clues at regular intervals, handed himself to them on a platter. And still they had not seen what they were facing.
The Oceanic airliner was the third vessel to be marooned on the island since Ethan had arrived. There had been countless others before his time. The island took what it wanted with no reservations, no emotion. Ethan could relate to that. He did the same. They were brothers, the island being the only true family he had ever known.
How Ethan laughed, now, at the one called Locke, the one who fancied himself such a great hunter. Ethan had followed closely behind him, marking the trail subtly, confusing the mighty hunter and his witless Boy Wonder at every turn. They were all putty in his hands.
The musician had been beautiful in his own way. Ethan had been almost sorry to see him go, could have found uses for him. But the island wanted him gone, and it always got what it wanted. And, in the end, Ethan was glad to watch him die; the stupid sheep had gasped out not pleas for his own life, but only prayers that the woman would be spared.
Ethan cared nothing for the little mother; she was merely a vessel. He would revel in her screams till he tired of them, then cut the child from her belly, ending her miserable life and ensuring his own rise to power.
And what a glorious occasion that would be.
The moment when he held his son in his arms for the first time.
end.
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So he's another Green River Murderer? Dude, *all* the serial killers come from Washington state! Too deadly accurate! (shudders)
And er, "uses" for Charlie ...?
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And, yeah, I simply couldn't help the Seattle reference. *g* Well, I *was* listening to CCR's Green River when I wrote it, LOL, so I 'spose my subconscious just took over. ; )
Yeah, believe me, the 'uses' for poor Charlie came a lot clearer in my mind than I dared to write down. *shudder* Poor angel... Thank the gods that he got the best of Ethan. *shiver*
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the stupid sheep had gasped out not pleas for his own life, but only prayers that the woman would be spared.
*melts*
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