'Night After Night It Came' (a Crack Fox ficlet)

[planetbanjo.livejournal.com]

If there's one episode of Series 3 that I'm extremely excited about (apart from the obvious one) it's the Crack Fox episode. Since seeing pictures of Julian dressed up as a half-man/half-fox, and as the 'syringe-clawed' creature, the character has been scuffling around in my mind. They say it's going to be a dark, horrific episode. Fantastic.

Basically, I've made this ficlet up so there aren't any spoilers. And it's not really Boosh Slash, although it does involve the Crack Fox crawling into bed with Howard Moon...or so he thinks. I'm not even sure if this Crack Fox exists or if it's just a figment of his guilty, sleep-deprived mind.

Title: 'Night After Night It Came'
Rating: G?
Words: Yes.
Pairing: Crack Fox/Howard Moon
Warning: Contains needles/syringes.
Notes: Written in a fit of insomniac madness at 2.00am. Un-betaed.


Night after night it came. Snuffling and snarling along the alleyway of his shifty ball-licking secrets.

Blinking against the darkness of the bedroom, he pulled the bedclothes tighter about his neck, straining to listen, willing his heartbeat to stop pounding in his ears. Nightly, his brain grew wretched as he tortured his mind with his shameful thoughts, fighting against discovery.

He glanced at his alarm clock; the steady tock-tock-tock of the clockwork drawing him closer towards the terrible moment when it would crawl its way through the dark.

Four minutes...three minutes....

Tensing himself against the inevitable, he swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. Silence thudded in his temples. Droplets of perspiration broke out around the nape of his neck, trickling down to the collar of his striped pyjama top. Twisting the bed-sheets tighter in his clenched fists, he gritted his teeth and waited.

Two minutes...one minute...thirty seconds...

Then -

It began as it always did – with a scuffling from the shadows. A tearing and rustling and a hollow crash as a rubbish bin fell to the ground, its contents scattering across the pavement. Excitable barking and yelping as it rummaged through the debris; devouring, seeking, searching...

Then silence.

He dared to release his breath and it juddered unevenly from his lungs, terrified the creature would hear him exhale.

It mustn’t know I’m here. Please, no!

Suddenly the shop shutters rattled loudly. He emitted a short cry of terror and snapped into the foetal position, balling himself against imminent attack. The creature ran its awful claws across the metal shutters, scratching furiously at the surface, desperately trying to gain entry. It began its terrible howling. He was sure he heard it cry his name. Screwing up his eyes, he pulled the bedding over his head, but he couldn’t block out its terrifying eyes, piercing yellow from the darkness, staring right into his pathetic soul.

A wave of cold sweat washed over him. Then, as the howling stopped, he felt it, crouching behind him. The needles tickled and pricked his back, gently at first, then moving slowly down, leaving faint red scratches along his spine. The creature’s hideous fingertips circled his shoulder blades, first the left, then the right, gradually applying further pressure. He choked back tears and froze in fear, knowing precisely what would come next.

Then a rusting syringe punctured his lower back; hot, precise, agonisingly pleasurable. As the substance entered him, he arched towards the sensation. His mind unravelled and filled with a thousand tiny white lights. Releasing his grip on the bedding, he became heavy-eyed and slumped against the pillows. The creature bore down on him and he submitted to its feral snuffling, felt the hot, red tongue lolling against his shoulder, smelt the fetid odour of its breath...

There could be no guilty secrets. It would find him out.

It always did.

~END~

Comments

[leonleif.livejournal.com]

Wow!
That really was amazing - and you wrote it at 2am!

The images you've conjured up in my head are, as you intended, dark and horrific. When the Crackfox's "needles tickled and pricked his back" it suggests such a gentle, caressing action but I found myself physically bracing my back and shoulders in anticipation of what was to come. That's powerful writing.

Thank you.

[planetbanjo.livejournal.com]

It was one of those things that comes to you in the middle of the night...wrote itself, really. Thanks for reading and I'm pleased you liked it. :)

[fugaziclash.livejournal.com]

LOLZ

'mon the Crack Fox!

[kewen.livejournal.com]

I read this because YOU wrote it, LB. But... but this is wrong :P

But I do have to admit that it was written excelently, naturally.

[planetbanjo.livejournal.com]

I BRING THE WRONG. You know that. :P x

[kewen.livejournal.com]

I DO know that, sir! And you know that we love it XD

[cpemslie.livejournal.com]

That could actually serve as a short horror story or a piece of urban gothic. I was genuinely frightened. Spine-chilling. A triumph.

I'd forgotten how good you could be. Thanks for that, now I'm going to hide under my covers.

xx

[planetbanjo.livejournal.com]

Thanks. :)

Good to see you back on BSH. I'm planning to catch up on your fic at the weekend.