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m_findlowTitle: Fight for life
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 200 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 257 - Too many at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
drabble_weekly
Summary: Jack has walked into the heart of danger knowing death for him might mean life for another. A double drabble.
Jack knew he was in trouble the minute the pile of junk clattered to the cobbled flagstones inside the old abandoned church. The out of tune organ rang out one eerie note that sounded his death knell. He had the glove clutched in a death grip as he knew for certain it wasn't going to help keep him alive.
The first growl from a weevil roused the others. There were too many of them for Jack to have a hope of fighting his way out of there. He was a dead man and nothing was more certain. All he could hope was that they didn't take his prize away from him as he lay there torn apart and bleeding to death.
He was running out of time to save Owen, and was going to lose even more precious minutes resurrecting himself from what he knew would be an awful death. Being mauled by a weevil was always bad. Being mobbed by more than he'd ever seen collected in one place sent chills down his spine at the prospect.
The girl with her tarot cards had warned him nothing good would come of this. He was determined to prove her wrong.
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 200 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 257 - Too many at
drabble_weeklySummary: Jack has walked into the heart of danger knowing death for him might mean life for another. A double drabble.
Jack knew he was in trouble the minute the pile of junk clattered to the cobbled flagstones inside the old abandoned church. The out of tune organ rang out one eerie note that sounded his death knell. He had the glove clutched in a death grip as he knew for certain it wasn't going to help keep him alive.
The first growl from a weevil roused the others. There were too many of them for Jack to have a hope of fighting his way out of there. He was a dead man and nothing was more certain. All he could hope was that they didn't take his prize away from him as he lay there torn apart and bleeding to death.
He was running out of time to save Owen, and was going to lose even more precious minutes resurrecting himself from what he knew would be an awful death. Being mauled by a weevil was always bad. Being mobbed by more than he'd ever seen collected in one place sent chills down his spine at the prospect.
The girl with her tarot cards had warned him nothing good would come of this. He was determined to prove her wrong.
