-Bruce-
In the great halls of a house in Bristol, hung paintings, aged far too long in the dark.
Smiles of people, whom to some, were long forgotten. The most haunted one stood the farthest in the dark. Their three smiles still intact. A father, a mother and of course, a son.
The paint had begun to crack away, it's date long lost. If you looked long enough you could tell it's story. It's dust creeping away from its image. Their eyes still hopeful as they watch you step by.
How easy it was to give in to the darkness. To fall to its feet, hiding yourself within it. A Wayne was never a stranger to the dark, not until the day the last of us die off. It was in our blood, written in the codes of family heirlooms and was the voice in the back of each members head. We all knew that.
Even Bruce Wayne, as he stood in the hallway, waiting for something to tell him what he had chosen was right. He had grown tired of the pain left in the walls, and wished to start new. So, as it pained him greatly, Bruce Wayne began opening curtains, windows and dusting furniture.
In hopes he could finally let the light in.
YOU ARE READING
A Wayne
FanfictionYou see my family, despite their best efforts has always lived; and shall live in the dark, and there is no sense hiding from it. even now, as the daughter of Gotham. (mature content)
