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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-05
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1,322
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Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night

Summary:

Note: The poem Do not go Gently into that Good Night, is a look into death, and how people should not go to death gently, as if to sleep, but fight it every step of the way (ok ok that is simple but read it and see what You think *grins*) This work too Me about an hour to write, it came to me as I was working on another story, and just flowed, I never even looked at the screen when I wrote it.

Work Text:

 

Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night
by Ciejye

Pain; harsh, cutting, demanding pain.

The kind of pain that dipped into one's very soul to make you retch and writhe in the agony that fills. The kind of pain where one can no longer scream, no longer struggle, no longer think about anything but the crushing well of pain that is the focus of all that they are.

Then ... a light ... a voice ... soft, distant ... seeming to come from 10 billion miles away. The focus changing ...seeing the light ... wanting to go to it ... to feel it warm and safe around you .

But still there is pain ... the pain that fills and burns, that licks each and ever fiber of your being ... till the only focus can be that pain ...

Or ...

Darkness ... a sweet deceptive darkness, flowing around, enveloping around like a blanket, threatening to smother, to rock to the eternal sleep ... a welcome end to the pain ... to the hurt that fills ... no more suffering ... no more will the tendrils of the pain wash over the body ... wash over the soul ... just the darkness and the comfort of the inky blackness that fills.

But .the voice ... the light ... they permeate into the darkness and tug ... distantly but there, a focus ... a need ... a desire ...

The darkness struggles, cradling you in the sleep of the night ... the blackness that will end the pain.

And still ...

There is the voice ... the light ... persistent ... not promising less pain but more ... more pain ... more of the burning ... the deep heavy pain ... but ... they also promise more ... more than the pain ... more than the comfort of the blackness ... more than the solitary deepness of the night ... they offer...

they offer ...

love.

The darkness fades as the voice and the light come into the vision ... filling the blackness ... pushing it away ... pushing it to the farthest reaches ... the voice ... uttering only a single word ... just one ... no more was needed ...

The pain intensifies ... and deepens ... a cry is heard ... the sound filling ... seeming so close ... and still one word is heard .. holding the pain keeping it there fresh and live ... but a strange comforting is with it ... a strange warmth that washes over ...

The voice again appears as the battle is won ... the voice strong and insistent ... commanding ... more than the darkness ...

The blackness ... the darkness fades into obscurity ... into the background ... its time will come ... but not now ... not this day ... its word ...

"Son. "

Fox opened his eyes to see the light ... shimmering off the pate of his AD Skinner, the eyes so filled with worry and concern ... and love.

"Sir?"

A smile broke out over the AD's face ... his eyes spilling the tears that filled them.

"Yes, Son ... I'm here, hush now ... it's all going to be okay now ... just rest ... the worst is over." A strong hand caressing the dark hair ... pushing it back a bit ... the hand so gentle and caring ... velvet steel.

Eyes closing again ... the face gentle and more at peace ...

"He's sleeping now, Sir," Scully's voice came. "The worst is over, now it's just a matter of rest ... and time "

"Thank you, Agent Scully," came the whispered voice ... the words deep with emotion. "Thank you."

A hand rested on the AD's shoulder a moment. The whispered "You're welcome, Sir," drifted to his ear before the footsteps sounded leading away.

Then ...

Tears flowed down the AD's face ... washing over him as he looked at the precious one who lay sleeping on the hospital pillow ... silent sobs shook his shoulders, as the last few days of worry and concern, and frantic emotion flowed through him ... the thought of losing this one almost too much to bear.

The large hands holding the smaller one ... so pale ... tears hotly falling on it ... then ... sleep ... deep and peaceful for both ... rejuvenating ... the worry and pain drifting away into silent slumber.

 

 

Pain ... harsh deep demanding pain.

The kind of pain that fills you with the deepest remorse; the kind of pain that burns and can bring promises to the lips of any ... the kind of pain that is filled with the caring of one who loves.

AD Skinner's hand cracked again and again into Fox's red sore bottom, the spanks were quick and hard and stinging; one hand holding the young man firmly, the other hand repeating its circuit of the red sore bottom for the fifth time, dipping down to blister the tops of the thighs, concentrating on the crease where the bottom and the thighs meet , then again the circuit starts ...

"IF you EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER put your life in danger like that again I will make sure you won't sit comfortably for the rest of your natural life!! Do you know how worried I was - getting a call to say AGAIN that you had ditched your partner? Then the DAYS of worry - not knowing where you were or even if you were alive."

The spanking stopped for a moment, but then resumed. Fox yelped louder as the small paddle begin its stinging course over his already sore rear end - each swat burning the words into his bottom as Fox kicked, and squirmed, and yelped, and cried.

The scolding resumed with the paddling.

"When we found you and saw what those ... those monsters had done ..."

The swats paused a moment. "I thought I was going to lose you ... I thought ... death would take you this time. I have never been more frightened." Hot tears splashed on the red bottom. Then in a moment the paddle crashed down again onto the Fox tail, making sure the lesson was burned indelibly into to young man's brain.

"And if I have to blister you every day for the rest of your life you will LEARN." The voice faltered as did the hand.

A moment later Fox was feeling the darkness again, accompanied by a suffocation as his air was cut off. But this time he did not worry, for he was held in his Father's arms, crushed in a bearhug, as they both wept tears of relief ...

He knew without a doubt, he was well loved.

Later, finally alone in his room laying on his stomach; the fire still raging in his tender bottom, Fox looked again at the plaque the AD had given him; the poem etched into the wood, the father's arms holding the child, keeping him safe as a single tear drifts down his face.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Fox knew without a doubt, he was well loved.


end