Mada’s Cursed 4:   

                                                                                                            The Specter   


                                                                                                                                                        By:  Stacy L.   



CATEGORY:  Drama, POV, Vingette


WARNINGS:  Dark, Disturbing Imagery, Violence

COMPLETED:  July 3, 2006


AUTHOR’S NOTES:  This is the fourth installment of the “Mada’s Cursed” series.  I kept wanting to write a few installments in which we see Daniel waivering on the very brink of insanity and well this is sort of, kind of one of those where we see him balancing on a very thin line, on the brink, still there, not yet gone but teetering.  I hope I’ve pulled it off.


This story serves as a response to the stargatefic100 LiveJournal challenge community for my Daniel Jackson prompt table.



                                                                                                               * * * *

Daniel’s POV


I heard her again today. I thought I saw her gazing in, staring at me with cold eyes, eyes filled with a murderous intent and I wondered why she hates me so. She stands there gazing at me. She doesn't move. She doesn't speak. All she does is stare at me. I wonder what she's thinking as she gazes upon me...

Can she see my anguish and my pain? Does she see the chains that bind me, the blood that surounds me and encompasses me? Does she see how much I suffer? Does she even care, or doesn't she see me at all? Is she real or a vivid fantasy? Did I dream her up? Why does she stand so silently, glaring at me, smiling sinisterly as I scream?

I yank against the chains that bind me, screaming as the wicked punish me. I don't know why they choose to beat me, and wonder how much more I can take. I shudder as a cold hand touches me, screaming and yanking away. The touch remains and strokes tenderly, so tenderly across my body, like a lover's caress. I violently tremble as it feels like I'm being comforted because I know it's all a game to them. Offer a taste, a small sampling of gentleness before diving in for the kill...

I scream as that hand grabs a clump of my matted hair, yanking my head violently upwards as a cold cruel voice whispers, offering me water and knowing how desperately I need it, long for it, desire and crave it.

I try to resist, cursing as a plea tumbles forth from my lips. The cold voice laughs before snarling and telling me to grovel for it. Without thought I scramble to my knees screaming as the chains tighten upon me, gasping as cold liquid is tossed in my face and I'm told that I'm wretched, that I am cursed and I deserve no mercy. I scream in frustration, and she laughs with glee...

The woman who stands there gazing at me.







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