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catladywritesstuff · 10 days

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Solidclan: A Starless Sky

Prologue

Shrewstar sat in the darkest corner of her den. She had succeeded in taking over Windclan and shaping the clan the way she wanted it. That Grassrunner cat though, he seems very passionate about ‘what’s right.’ She sat up and looked out the entrance of her den. As the dark brown she-cat scanned what she could see of the camp she took note that he wasn’t in sight. I need to do something about him so that he’ll shut up.

She walked out of her den into the camp. I might as well grab some freshkill while I think. As she walked by, each cat bowed their head in respect to her. How great it feels to be treated like a real leader! She thought to herself. She held her head up high and grabbed a fat bird off the fresh kill pile. She jumped onto the tallrock to eat. Some cats looked at her like they were expecting her to call a clan meeting but quickly looked away when she made eye contact with them.

“Shrewstar! I have some news!” Shrewstar looked up to see Roundbelly climbing up the rock.

“What is the news?” She asked the ginger tom.

He panted then looked at her with his green eyes. “Three cats have gone missing.”

“Really?” Shrewstar meowed, trying to sound worried. “Who’s missing?”

“Uh…” Roundbelly hesitated a heartbeat. “Grassrunner, Bluepelt, and Lightleap.”

Ha! Guess I don’t need to do anything now! Shrewstar said in her head. Outloud she asked Roundbelly, “Have there been any search parties out to try and find them?” Her hazel eyes gazed intently at him. He looked nervous now as he said “Well… No. Paleclaw told me to tell you first.”

Shrewstar lowered her head. “Well, is he the deputy in the clan?” She asked.

“No.” Roundbelly responded.

Shrewstar looked back up at him. “So should you take orders from him?”

“No,”

“You’re the deputy so you only have to listen to me.”

“I-I know that.”

“Anyways,” Shrewstar stood up. “Paleclaw was right about asking me first. Don’t send a search party for them.”

“Why not?” Roundbelly questioned.

“Oh, what a tight group they were. They were always against me. Hopefully they’re happier wherever they are now.” Shrewstar meowed in a soft voice, trying to sound happy yet sympathetic.

“Oh, ok.” Roundbelly paused for a heartbeat. “What if they’re in another clan, planning something?”

Shrewstar laughed. “They have nothing against us. We are the strongest clan right now, and we’re the closest to Starclan since we are without trees blocking our way.” Shrewstar put her fluffy tail on the round toms shoulder. “We’ll be safe, don’t worry. Now go back to the rest of the clan. I have a meeting to call.”

Roundbelly jumped off the tallrock and took his place next to it for clan meetings. “Let all cats old enough to run on the moor gather to hear my words!” She called the ancient words said by all leaders before her and all the cats gathered around to listen to their leader.

“Grassrunner, Bluepelt, and Lightleap have recently disappeared from the clan and I am telling you to not search for them. If you see any of those cats chase them off the territory without hesitation. They are outcasts here and can no longer stay.” She told the clan. The rest of Grassrunners family was below her. Leafstorm and Heatherfrost, his littermates, looked shocked unlike their parents, Lilacpetal and Paleclaw. Their parents had a happy look on their face as they cheered for her with the rest of the clan.

* * *

A black she-cat walked out from the starry trees. Another black she-cat with white paws and a face stripe was waiting in the middle of the small clearing. The black and white she-cat’s tail was twitching as she looked around nervously.

“What do you want, Lilywhisker?” The black she-cat said, padding out of the trees.

Lilywhisker breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, you made it safe.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The black she-cat asked.

Lilywhisker rolled her eyes. “Ravenscar, the dark forest cats are prowling all over Starclan’s hunting grounds now. Why else would I call a secret meeting with you? They’re always listening and watching.” She paused to breathe. “One of them is probably watching us right now.”

Ravenscar sat down and asked, “What did you want to discuss?”

“Well,” Lilywhisker started. “Windclan’s leader Shrewstar has risen to even more power, being the only one that can communicate with ‘Starclan’ now.”

Ravenscar moved her paws closer together. “And why do you say Starclan so sarcastically?” She meowed sharply.

Lilywhisker sighed. “Do you not keep up with what’s happening? Because it’s very obvious to see that the dark forest has taken over Starclan and the land is being corrupted to look like the dark forest.” Lilywhisker started to sound stressed.

“Well obviously I know that.” Ravenscar said sternly. “This is still Starclan, not the dark forest yet.”

“Whatever.” Lilywhisker said. “The issue I have brought you here is that some Windclan cats have run away to form their own clan and Starclan.”

“Really?” Ravenscar lifted her eyebrows.

“Yes.” Lilywhisker said enthusiastically. “If it succeeds maybe we could all move there where it’s safer.”

Ravenscar looked uncertain. “But would we even get a chance to go? The dark forest cats are going to strike them down to never be seen again.”

Lilywhisker looked at her feet. After a moment's pause Lilywhisker gasped and looked at Ravenscar. “What?” Ravenscar meowed, concerned. Lilywhisker’s eyes lit up as she said, “What if we convince them to test this new clan instead of killing them?”

“My, that’s a great idea! Are you sure it’s going to work though?” Ravenscar asked.

“It’s worth a try.” Lilywhisker said.

Ravenscar smiled. “I’m glad you are my friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you and your bright ideas.”

The two cats laughed together.

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Allegiances | Introduction post | Chapter 1

Link to doc: (Not out yet)

Any mistakes, structured criticism, compliments, and comments, are appreciated! Your feedback will help me grow as a writer.

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naoa-ao3 · 1 month

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Fodder for Dreaming

John is in between stays at Ravenscar. Weirdness finds him no matter how hard he tries to toe the line and when two skinheads proposition him to get rid of a demon infestation, they're really not asking. John goes along but get's a whole lot more than he bargained for at the worst time.

The gate slams behind him and John opens his eyes.

He's laying down and there's thunder outside his windows.

Bad weather and bad dreams again.

He's in his bed.

He's in a bed.

Another nameless motel.

Another stained ceiling.

He reaches for his cigarettes and already the thoughts come tumbling back to him.

He's a month out of Ravenscar, mind frayed and bed sweaty from another nightmare. Another memory he can't chase away.

More bad dreams he can't help.

He's trying this time. He really doesn't want to go back and he's being good. No friends, nothing weird.

Not even any drugs. . .

His hands shake as they light his cigarette and he's faced with another aimless day.

Bad weather and bad dreams all day and all night.

He has nothing to do and nowhere to go, nothing but to think and no one to take him from his thoughts when he can't stop them.

Cheryl has a baby and Chas is in London.

His other friends are in the wind.

No band and no guitar, not that he was really good at it. He'd just been pretending. . . like with everything else.

He get's up and goes to the store, spends some of his last few quid on another pack of Silk Cuts and walks around with his hands in his pockets and his head full of broken glass.

It's been like this for a month.

Nowhere to go, no one to see.

No one that visits and no one to visit himself.

Just him and his head.

Him and his glass.

He ends up at a pub.

He always ends up at the pub these days.

He want's to get drunk.

Wants to forget but never can.

He drinks and drinks and doesn't hear the music.

Someone puts on ABBA and he doesn't hear it.

Doesn't hear it when the song changes and Barbara Streisand takes over.

He stays, sits, drinks and braces for another night all the same as the rest. The same thoughts and the same dreams all in the same putrid, little room.

Nothing changes and he's only just holding it together.

He's not sure he wants to live like this and the cracked bar in front of him is screaming that this is as low as it get's.

No faces he knows in the crowed, no voices shouting over the din and the music. . . no one to call and nothing but the thoughts in his head to keep him company.

They scream at him.

He doesn't think he's ever been so alone.

He can't hear the music over the screaming. . .

Astra's screaming. . .

He can't hear anything any more except her.

So he doesn't hear when two men call out to him and he jumps when they sit down on either side of him. He isn't used to people any more.

They slide onto stools and smirk, heads shaved and shining.

"Evening, mate." One of them say's and his heart hammers between them.

One is gangly and tall and the other is broad and dense.

They're both skinheads.

"Don't think I know you." He say's, trying to play it cool. Whatever it is they want it isn't going to be good.

They order their drinks and they order one for him too, pushing it towards him like they're old friends.

The gangly one lights up.

"You're Constantine, right?" He asks.

John hesitates. "You wanna tell me your name first?" He asks.

"Nigel." The man say's.

Nigel.

Right.

He snorts but the man doesn't thump him for it.

Warning sign number one.

"This is Tom, we've been looking for you." Nigel continues. "Heard about you and some friends of yours having a gig in Manchester some years ago." He reads John's face. "Now we don't want music you understand. . . we want the other thing. We've heard you know about the Arcane. Heard you know a lot, actually."

John feels himself break out in sweat . "Lot's happened since Manchester." He say's. "I'm not sure I'm the man you want."

Nigel nods and Tom say's nothing. "Well now that's not what we've heard. We've heard you're the guy to talk to. You're the guy who knows stuff."

He thinks of Newcastle and suddenly almost can't see.

He's blind and deaf and flailing.

"We've got a problem. One of our friends was. . . well he wasn't the careful type, you know? He brought something into the house but. . . it won't leave. Won't bloody get out. Do you understand?"

John thinks of all the arrogant, somehow lucky stuff he's done and shakes is head. "Can't help you." He say's, voice shaking more than he'd expected.

He tries to get up but Tom plants his hand in his chest and pushes him back onto his stool.

"Drink your pint." He say's.

John drinks his pint. "Look I can't help you." He say's again.

He can barely help himself.

They don't blink. "We're not asking." Nigel say's, mouth turned down in a frown yet somehow still smiling.

He has a freckle under his left eye.

John stares at it. "I'm telling you I can't help you." He say's again, feeling strained.

There's smoke in the air and Nigel doesn't listen. "Anyway, it's small time but Paul, that was the poor chap- he got eaten. Since then it's been wrecking the place. You can't even go into the drawing room."

John stares at him wildly.

It doesn't sound that tough.

He's dealt with weirder shit. . .

It's only fucking up a drawing room. . .

He stops himself and shakes his head. "Mate, I'm telling you. I can't do anything about it." He say's, desperate for them to listen.

They shake their heads.

They don't listen.

"See you keep saying that but you took care of that thing in Newcastle, I heard."

John think's he's going to vomit but he doesn't. "Heard that did you?" He asks, voice horse.

Voice cracking.

Nigel shrugs. "Dunno what I heard but I heard something. Anyway, we need it gone and we need the proper sort to do it. You know what we mean?"

He doesn't and Tom grunts.

"Don't fucking make a problem." He say's.

John looks around the pub and considers splitting but they're right next to him and he doubts he'll make it. "Look. . . maybe you tell me what it is and I can help you from here." He says, hopping Nigel think's it's a good offer.

Nigel shakes his head. "No deal." He say's.

They drain their pints and he finishes his as he plots his escape.

He has to get away.

He can't do this shit again.

He isn't ready.

He never was.

His mind is already running through what the hell they could have summoned.

They usher him out, Nigel standing close, too close and Tom lighting a cigarette.

They take him to a car.

A beat up Admiral with a dented driver's door.

He want's a cigarette too.

He frowns and get's in the back, feeling like a prisoner or someone in a movie, ready to make a run for it.

"Don't do it." Tom say's, lowering his head to look in at him like he knows what he's thinking.

John thinks of the orderlies who beat him and the nights in Ravenscar and doesn't run.

Tom nods his head.

He nods too.

The car starts up.

The seat is cracked and old.

Nigel is humming.

John can't name the tune.

They head out of town, away from the city and into farm land but it isn't so far and they pull off at a black hulk before he's calmed down.

John's eyes adjust and he see's it's not a black hulk after a moment.

It's a manor house.

He looks around uncertainly and there's no lights showing from within.

"Alright, we're here." Nigel say's, fishing a copy of 'Candour' out from under the seat, glancing at it and throwing it in the back where John think's his heart is finally going to explode.

"I can't do it." He say's again, more weakly this time.

Even if he could he isn't prepared.

Nigel tuts and then suddenly there's a fist in his hair, dragging him over the back of the seat in front of him and Nigel is in his face, nose touching his cheek, breath foul.

"You're gonna fucking do it." He say's.

John isn't right in his head and he starts to shake but then the hand lets go and only a few hairs leave with it.

He sits back, bile twisting in his throat.

"Right then, out you go." Nigel say's.

They get out and he looks up at the manor house. It's crumbling front steps and boarded up windows. The missing masonry and the broken bricks littering the front walk. . . It looks derelict.

Tom pushes him and Nigel laughs.

He walks and they take him inside.

Maybe if he does what they want they'll take him back and he can go to bed.

Maybe the same every day isn't so bad.

He wants to see his stained ceiling again.

He stares around and then see's lights down hallways and knows suddenly that there are people here. His one hope that the place is abandoned. . . that somehow Nigel and Tom brought him to the wrong fucking house is dashed.

They pass rooms with collapsed floors and ceilings.

John doesn't like the holes that lead to nowhere, up and down. . . promising things and pains he can imagine only too well.

He looks at Nigel.

The man has stopped humming.

"It's in here." The man say's, stopping at a closed door.

John stares at him.

He stares at the door.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

He doesn't even know what's on the other side of the door.

Tom raises his eyebrows. "Well?" He asks.

John shakes his head. "What the bloody hell do you want me to do?" He asks. "You brought me all the way out here. . . I don't. . ."

But Nigel is smiling.

He puts his finger to his lips and then opens the door.

There's light inside.

There's fire in the grate and people all around.

Tom shoves him and John stumbles inside, raising a hand to shield his eyes for a moment before turning wildly and seeing a room filled with people.

There's a red banner with a black double S hung over the mantle. Back on red on hate.

SS.

He see's a dozen shaved heads and black boots and people are laughing all around. Girls with their hair bleached and faces hard. . . men and boys with smirks and brown bottles in their hands.

He turns to Nigel and Tom and opens his mouth.

Nigel hits him. "We needed the right kind." He say's. "Proper English lad. Figured that was what it'd want."

It?

There's a table laid out and John stares and see's food.

There's cake even.

He turns and balls his fists. "What the hell is this?" He shouts but they all laugh and he think's maybe he's gone round the bend again except he's definitely here and this isn't his usual brand of crazy.

"A worthy sacrifice." A figure say's rising out of the masses, his head nicked and shaved.

His eyes triumphant.

John's are bulging out of his head.

"We summon a god tonight. A god of the ancient Britons. We who call ourselves British, English, we here have taken pains to reclaim the glory that was our England! To take back our jobs and our government from outsiders. From Pakis and Nogs. . ." The man looks around as the others clap and cheer. "Is this not our homeland? Is this not our place? Is this not our fucking land?" He points downwards and receives cheers.

It's a lot of bullshit but one word stick's in John's ears: sacrifice.

He has a sudden, horrible feeling that he knows what they're sacrificing.

Who they're sacrificing.

He tries to run for the door then but Nigel catches him and drags him back, laughing.

The crowed closes in on him.

He turns again, wild this time and scared.

He's a cornered animal so he lashes out.

People are laughing, black boots and shaved heads.

Bleached blondes with their hard faces.

Nicks along their lovers' scalps.

Hate in their hearts.

People are pointing at him.

He's thinking of Astra.

When is he not?

He puts his hands over his head and cowers.

They grab him and drag him along, Nigel singing.

"When I was a lad, I hadn't any sense. I bought a flute for fifty pence. The only tune that I could play was-"

He stares ahead as they drag him to a circle they've drawn on the floor.

White chalk on ancient brown wood.

He doesn't know what it's supposed to be.

Maybe he doesn't know enough, maybe they don't.

He looks up and the man who'd risen from the crowed is there. He's older but not by much and his head looks like a skull.

There's a black, double S hanging behind him.

An evil herald.

"Blood of an Englishman. Proper red." He say's.

John stares up, heart hammering painfully.

Nigel is grinning.

Tom watches.

They're all watching.

Hungry and waiting.

His eyes water over and he tries to draw air, looking again for an exit that isn't there.

Nigel is in his ear.

"We sacrifice you and we get what we want. You see? Heard about that botched job in Newcastle." He clicks his tongue while John's heart does a somersault. "Don't reckon anyone will miss you."

There's candles burning around them.

People watching.

He can't breath and Nigel and Tom are on either side of him again.

Even Tom looks pleased for once and he's holding tight.

Hurting him.

John thinks this might be it and almost accepts it.

Almost except he doesn't want to be murdered by these people.

The cake has a red 88 on it.

Enough candles that he can't count them.

Who's birthday is it?

No.

Not here.

Not like this.

He struggles and they hit him, Tom's fist is big and meaty against his ribs.

He gasps for air and Nigel coos and takes over, holding him up. He wipes away his tears. He smiles and looks into his eyes and John feels his whole body shake.

Nigel searches his eyes and see's what he wants.

Nigel nods and let's go of his face.

John panics and kicks, desperate this time.

He hears an 'oof' and hits something soft.

Nigel doubles over, hands flying to his balls.

It isn't enough and the rest of them don't pause.

A knife joins them and he's still in the circle and blood get's out.

It sears when the knife cuts and he can't stop it or what follows.

Something changes.

The air changes and his breathing. . . he's only just started again but suddenly everything tastes bad.

The air around them is putrid and stale.

The others sense it too and something shakes the house.

They're on the ground floor but everyone looks uneasy.

The knife has stopped moving and John is just as uneasy as all of them.

The shaking stops and when nothing happens he and Nigel both go for the knife.

He grabs it but Nigel rips it away again, lashing out with his little cutter.

John throws them to the floor and Nigel screams out, yelling for the second time that night.

He's fallen on the knife and John stares in horror as the house begins to shake again.

Collapsed rooms finally devour the caverns above them.

Rot taking hold.

Rot winning.

He braces himself like a crab against the floor.

People are shouting.

"It comes! He comes!" The leader shouts, head shaved and nicked, arms waving frantically.

The SS overhead flutters.

The fire flares.

Something large is in the room.

Large and taking up space nothing can possibly fill.

John can't make sense of it and crawls away into a corner.

Whatever it is, it grabs up jackboots and devours them whole.

it eats and it feasts and it kills.

It licks the things it calls fingers and tears flesh and leather alike.

John cowers, everything he's recovered gone and then the thing looks at him.

It sniffs.

It waits.

He waits.

"Kon-stan-tyn." It breaths.

He opens mad eyes, not knowing if he's even alive still.

He wants to grovel.

The thing has horns.

Too many to count.

"No. A Constantine. A different one." It say's.

He doesn't know what it means.

It has no mouth.

He doesn't know how he's hearing it speak.

He can hardly look at it.

"A debt is paid. I spare you."

He stares back and then it's gone.

Ancient and primordial.

Some forgotten deity he doesn't want to know the name of.

He can't feel his legs and all around him is carnage.

It's like Newcastle all over again and he screams but there's no one left to hear him.

No one to care.

He wants to die.

He claws at his face and shakes his head against it but there's red everywhere.

The house is weak and he hears it creaking around him.

He get's up and tries to find the way out, slipping and sliding in what were once people. Bleached blondes and shaved heads.

There are lights down hallways just out of sight.

He doesn't know what he's seen.

No one left to tell him.

No money.

He closes his eyes and makes it outside, vomiting among the crumbling masonry and broken bricks.

He's in the middle of nowhere now and shivers in the night.

The beat up Admiral is in the grass but the keys are inside, mired in puddles of what were once the shapes of human beings.

His mind is shattered glass.

Blood and cities that aren't the same. . . little girls and skinheads. . . he can't sort it out.

Screams sounding all the same.

People all the same.

Blood everywhere and all of it red and just the same.

He wanders his way back to civilization.

There's a score of dead neo-Nazis behind him.

They had mothers too once. . . probably.

Not like him.

He's seen their mangled corpses.

He can't get it out of his head and he can't get Newcastle or Astra or Nigel's freckle out either.

He walks and mutters to himself, trying to make sense of it.

Trying to understand why it's all happened again.

Over and over.

Everything going wrong and him walking out. . . unscathed. . .

Nigel dead. . . Tom dead. . . their leader dead. . .

Astra and all the rest. . . all dead.

A siren eventually stops him and the police take him for a crazy.

He is and they take him back to the nick and process him and in just a few days time he ends up back in Ravenscar even though he tried to do the right thing.

Even though he stayed away from the drugs and the magic and all his friends who've disappeared.

He ends up back in the padded cell with the orderlies who hate him and the doctors who don't care.

He has new nightmares now.

New horrors to keep him up and play before his eyes, over and over and over.

The gates locked behind him.

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prettyvintagehouse · 8 months

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#coast #coastline #sea #blue sky #sunny day #north yorkshire #Ravenscar #beach #rocks #seaside #views

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aryanastravels · 1 year

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Ravenscar Apr19 #northyorkshire #ravenscar #ravenscarcliffs #gorse #tojo #northsea #robinhoodsbay #greatbritain #greatoutdoors #outdoorlife #outdoorphotography #landscapephotography #landscape_lovers #landscape_captures #paisagem #moodysky #sky_captures #skyphotography #sky #ceu #cielo #naturephotography #skyline #skylovers #cloudlovers #cloud (at Ravenscar, North Yorkshire) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmhEr1CMpub/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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artschoolsurvivor · 1 year

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More Published Work

I’m thrilled to announce that The London Magazine has once again seen fit to publish a couple of my poems. It never, ever stops being a thrill! Click on the link to buy one!

View On WordPress

#childhood #dragon #hauntology #kings #london magazine #poets of wordpress #ravenscar #scarborough #slide #town planning #verse #whitby

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ekuroeil · 1 year

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A chainsmoking bastard, he even scares the Devil.

To find EkuBlazer on many textiles (T-shirts, hoodies, hats, bags, etc.) check out my shop : https://ekuroeil-design.myspreadshop.ch/

Pour retrouver EkuBlazer sur pleins de textiles (T-shirts, sweats à capuche, casquettes, sacs, etc.) faites un saut sur mon shop : https://ekuroeil-design.myspreadshop.ch/

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abz-j-harding · 2 months

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Just Two Lovers

#my artwork #abzjharding #abz-j-harding #artist #artists #illustration #drawing #art #parliament of rooks #darius ravenscar #princess seraphina #gothic #gothic horror #horror #romance #demons #monsters

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fhtagn-and-tentacles · 4 months

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DON'T BE AFRAID

by Abigail J Harding

#tentacles #fhtagn #abigail jill harding #abz #parliament of rooks #concept art #chara design #creature #monster #horror #gaze #darius ravenscar #crows #raven #bird #feathers #fhtagnnn

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pcb-photos · 2 years

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Ravenscar seal Tamron 500mm f/8 & Canon R6 #ravenscar #seal #nationaltrust #wildlifephotography #englishcoast #northyorkshire #vintagelensphotography #vintagelensphotographer #manualfocus #tamron #canonphotography #northyorkshirephotographer #northyorkshirephotography #englishwildlife #eosr6 #paulbradley #photography #paulbradleyphotography #scudmonkey #coastalphotography (at Ravenscar) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfODDKNNdCr/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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constantineshots · 9 months

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man. this makes me so sad. there’s something about the fact that technically he didn’t even kill her but everyone blamed him for it, and he took all that pain and suffering because he thought he deserved it.

#john constantine #hellblazer #torture tw #electric shock therapy tw #like. ravenscar was a shithole #man.

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brothersnackariahsbitch · 18 days

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In case you missed the full story of the story of Silas Pangborn and Eloisa Ravenscar, here it is: In the Bane Chronicles, Magnus briefly meets Silas and Eloisa. Magnus notes that Silas introduces Eloisa as his parabatai but it reminds him of someone introducing their wife. In The Infernal Devices, Gabriel and Gideon recount a story that their father told them. Silas Pangborn was their uncle on their mother’s side of the family. Silas and Granville Fairchild (Charlotte’s father) were close friends, however Grandville snitched to the Clave that Silas and Eloisa were in love. Because of the events that followed this, Silas killed himself. Benedict Lightwood, manipulated this story though to claim that his wife died of grief from losing her brother to divert from the fact that he killed her from infecting her with demon pox (🎶demon pox oh demon pox🎶). This story comes back in during The Dark Artifices when Silas and Eloisa are mentioned because of Emma and Julian’s situation. They’re basically referred to as a cautionary tale about the consequences of parabatai falling in love.

I definitely missed putting those pieces together on my first read. It wasn’t until my chronological reread that it all clicked. It’s not really anything that consequential to the plots, but it is interesting that this story comes up throughout the series.

#the shadowhuter chronicles #the infernal devices #the bane chronicles #the dark artifices #Silas pangborn #eloisa ravenscar #magnus bane #gabriel lightwood #gideon lightwood #benedict lightwood #emma carstairs #Julien blackthorn #demon pox

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rinadragomir · 2 years

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PARABATAI PORTRAITS

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naoa-ao3 · 8 months

Text

What We Don't Do

Ravenscar had a new nurse.

A reasonably young and attractive, blond woman named Paula Gibb who by all acounts was utterly normal.

Paula thought she could do some real good at Ravenscar but on her first day she thought the place looked more like a prison than anything else.

The staff however were friendly and showed her around, the other nurses helping her familiarize with the place and the orderlies aparently friendly and willing to lend a hand.

She though that it wasn't so bad and a few a few days supposed that places like this were why she had become a nurse. Underfunding didn't mean they had to have a bad staff.

She wanted to make them better and so she was kind, she was kind to her patients and the other nurses and smoked with them on her break and gossipped and listened to them talk about their families.

She showed them pictures of her children, Nancy aged three and Brian at two. They were the best things she had in life.

They said she had beautiful children and she thought that she was finally off to a good start.

That was all until she met John Constantine.

Her first time meeting him was when she heard nurse Hull calling for assitance from down the hall.

She rushed to the door the woman was standing in and looked past her at a young man who had pressed himself against the far wall.

He looked absolutely distraught and his wide blue eyes searched past them for some kind of escape.

"What's going on?" She asked.

Nurse Hull glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. "He won't cooperate." She said. "I need him to take his pill."

The young man shook his head, mouth clamped firmly shut but Nurse Hull didn't look too upset by it.

She put her hand on her hip and snorted. "You know the drill John, take the pills yourself or I'll have Eddie force them down your throat."

Paula thought that a bit harsh and watched as the man drew in on himself glaring hatefully at them. "You keep him away from me!" He hissed through clenched teeth.

Nurse Hull just shurgged. "Your choice, John. You know how this goes and it never goes in your favor. Just take the pills so they can throw you back out of here. You'll be back soon enough anyway."

He twitched and looked at Paula who tried to give the man a sympathetic look, not knowing what was wrong with him.

Nothing. He looked away.

"I'm calling Eddie." Nurse Hull said.

The man gave her a venemous look.

Nurse Hull paged the orderlies and looked at John, unimpressed. "You bite him again and he's going to hurt you." She siad.

He sniffed and Paula didn't know what to make of it. "Surly there's another way-?" She asked.

Nurse Hull sighed again. "Not with this one, dear."

She looked into the little room where the man had pressed himself into a corner and was muttering very quickly to himself, hands over his head. She felt pity for him but here came Eddie FitzRoy, whisteling merrily.

"Alright, Kathy?" He asked, looking at Nurse Hull and cracking a grin at Paula. "Our John giving you some problems."

Nurse Hull held out the little cup with the pills in it. "He won't take them again." She said. "Won't let me get near him. You need Frasier down here too?"

Eddie whistled. "Nah, I don't think so." He said. "What do you think Johnny? Think I should get Bill down here?"

Paula watched as the man in the cell shook his head, wide eyed and stilled.

"Ah, I didn't think so." Eddie said, smirking a little as he advanced on the other man.

The patient pushed himself against the wall and Paula saw him actually begin to shake a little as Eddie pressed an arm against his chest and drew close, pinning him.

"You gonna take these pills Johnny boy, or am I going to have to push them down your gullet for you?"

The man trembled hard and turned his head to the side but Paula saw Eddie increase the pressure he was putting on him, saw his chest take the impact and his back strain against the wall.

Just take them! She thought, watching in horror.

"It's alright, Paula." Nurse Hull said, putting a hand on her arm. "Eddie knows what he's doing and John. . . well I guess you don't know about John here."

"Got you, you little bastard! Swallow it or I swear you'll be drinking your own piss for the next week!"

She looked back and saw Eddie forcing something down the patient's throat and massaging it down while the other man struggled and choked.

"God he's hurting him!" She cried.

Nurse Hull looked back, clearly unmoved and sighed. "It's alright, dear." She said. "It's only John."

"Only John?" She asked.

The other nurse nodded. "It's only John." SHe whispered as Eddie threw the man to the floor and stepped back.

They watched the patient curl in on himself and Paula thought she would be sick. There had to have been an easier way!

Eddie came out wiping his hands. "Nasty little bastard." He said.

"Thank you, Eddie." Nurse Hull said reprovingly, putting an arm around Paula. "Come on dear, I'll fix you up a cuppa. You look like you need it and I'll tell you about our John."

She nodded numbly and let Nurse Hull lead her to the break room and fix her some of the hospital's poor excuse for tea.

She tookthe mug with trembeling hands and looked at her in worry. "What was that all about? I haven't seen anyone treated like that since I got here." She said.

Nurse Hull sighed and sat opposite her, stirring her tea. "John's a special case." She said. "He's been in and out the past few years. . . personally I wish they would just lock him up."

Paula looked up, still feeling shaken. "Lock him up?" She repeated, making Nurse Hull shivver a little and nod.

"He's a murderer, love." Nurse Hull said, sounding sad. "Killed a little girl up in Newcastle. . . police never even found all of her. Poor dear. . . only twelve years old too."

She felt even more rattled to hear this. "I had no idea." She whispered, clutching her mug ever harder.

She thought of the man's scared, blue eyes and the way he had trembled when Eddie had pinned him to the wall. He had killed someone? A little girl.

Christ he wasn't even that old himself!

"Don't beat yourself up, Paula. I think it's good that you want to help people. Just don't waste your time on people like him."

She nodded. "Alright."

"Are you working late?" Nurse Hull asked, changing the subject and lightening the tone.

She nodded, shaking her head a little to clear the dark thoughts out. There was a child killer in the building and now she knew it.

"Oh, I've gone and frightened you. Darling, look he's locked up and if he ever gives you any trouble, Eddie wiill straighten him out." The other woman said, softening her voice.

She nodded again, not knowing how to feel about that. "I'll be okay." She said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She was being silly. The man was locked up and she wouldn't be in any danger.

Nurse Hull smiled kindly. "Of course you will." She said. "Eddie's here."

She nodded and forced a smile, wanting to change the subject and they talked aimlessly for a little while. Paula wasn't thinking about the patient or she at least was trying very hard not to and when Nurse Hull suggested they get back to work she felt emense relief.

She spent the next few hours, helping the other nurses and continuing to find her footing and tried to keep her mind away from the blond man down the hall and what he had done.

Ravenscar could have used a little updating but she supposed funding was always an issue and they were doing the best they could.

She distracted herself with work and checked her watched every few hours.

7:00 P.M.

8:00 P.M.

She said good night to Nurse Hull and watched her leave for home.

9:00 P.M.

She was off at 11:00.

At 10:13 she heard a commotion down the hall from the nurses' station and stopped looking at her charts.

The hospital had been quiet for a few minutes now and almost all of the patients were in bed.

She heard a noise again and put down her charts and pen. Someone's door was open down the hall.

She grabbed her sweater and pulled it close, shoes echoing lightly around her.

It was the killer's room that was open and she hurried to it, hoping the noise meant he was still inside.

Had Nurse Hull not locked it properly earlier?

She stepped to the door and stopped.

Eddie the orderly was inside along with Bill Frasier, Kevin Dunlap and Mitchelle Gordon, all ordierlies she had gotten on with fairly well. She looked around at them until her eyes found the patient on the floor.

He was curling in on himself, arms wrapped protectively around his ribs but there was blood. . . he'd been kicked in the face or something and her hands flew to her mouth in horror. "Eddie!" She squeaked. "What are you doing?"

The man. . . his name was John. . . John Constantine. . . opened blue eyes and looked at her in almost confusion.

Eddie was quick to her side however and covered her eyes, pulling her away in his arms. "Don't look at it, Paula. It's not pretty."

She pried him off. "Eddie! What are you doing in there!"

She heard the sound of boot hitting man and a yelp and she tried to take a step towards the door.

He put an arm out to stop her.

"Eddie!" She cried, voice cracking a little.

"It's not a bad thing we do." Eddie said, jaw tight. "Kathy told you what he's done. . . he murdered a little girl, Paula. That doesn't just go away. . ."

"You're hurting him!" She said, voice more shrill than she had intended.

"Yeah and he hurt a little girl. . . they don't even know what he did to her. . . what he did before he killed her. . ." His face twisted a little. "You got a little girl, don't you? You showed us all the picture the other day. Are you gonna tell me that if someone did to your little girl what that man did to some other woman's little girl, that you wouldn't want this?"

She blinked and felt tears free themselves down her cheeks. "Eddie. . ." Her voice was shaking. It was so weak. Why was it so weak?

"He killed a kid, Paula. The police haven't done shit. He murdered a little girl and no one's done shit!"

She shook a little but he put a hand on her arm, steadying her but as he looke din her eyes she heard a another cry from inside the room and trie dto peer past him.

Eddie blocked her view. "Don't Paula." He asid.

"Are you going to kill him?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Can't do that, there'd be questions but we can make him regret what he did."

She shuddered and clasped her hands to her chest.

"Sometimes, doing the right thing doesn't feel right." He asid. "But there's gotta be justice. You can't kill kids and get away with it."

She nodded and he gave her a kind look. "Why don't you go home early, I don't think anyone would mind. We'll handle old Johnny here."

As if on cue she heard a thud and a yelp and knew then that she didn't want to see what they were doing to him. She didn't want to see justice.

"You're a good one, Paula." Eddie said."Go home, kiss your daughter."

She nodded again, feeling weak and turned away, letting whatever was happening happen. It wasn't justice. It was something else but she would let it happen and just like that she felt is if she had lost a piece of herself.

She went and got her purse, images of her own daughter and of other little girls. . . little girls she'd never met danced in her head. Little girls that disappeared and girls no one ever saw again. . .

They looked like her daughter.

She thought of the blond man and the blood on the floor.

She thought of little girls that disappeared and of the mothers left behind, mothers without children. . . without daughters. . .

To be a mother without their child. . . she steeled her mind as she drove home, driving a little fast and a little recklessly.

She kissed her children when she got home and put in her resignation the next day. She didn't think she could work there any more.

She thought that even if she hadn't done anything. . . sometimes it was what you didn't do that was all the worse.

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