Fanfic 100 - 066, Rain
Nov. 4th, 2007 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Entry
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Jonas Fogg
Prompt: 066, Rain
Word Count: 432
Rating: PG
Summary: Notes from Jonas Fogg
Author's Notes: This didn't turn out quite as I had planned, and I may write another Fogg story that was what I intended later. Or perhaps this will be part one of something. I don't know just yet.
It has rained constantly all day. My head aches with it, as if the steady drumming beat my temples, rather than the roof above. Everything is dank, in a way that makes one forget what it is to be dry.
The woman in the east wing made some progress, earlier in the day. She seemed at least initially responsive to my stimuli, and I have great hopes for her eventual recovery. Of course, her family will insist she remain in seclusion, no matter the results of my treatment, which is, clearly, a shame. It is, I confess, frustrating to know that although rehabilitation and yes, I daresay, cure are my eventual goals, families will continue to insist that those interred in asylum remain here indefinitely. Some of my children are nearly well, but how can they make any real progress when they are reduced to the same squalor as the more hopeless cases?
I do not mean to complain. I am given the most excellent raw material for my study, for diseases of the mind come in almost as many varieties as the minds they affect. Each case is a piece in the puzzle of a truly import discovery. I feel it, and I observe it every day. If the damned Beadle weren’t constantly lurking about, investigating my methods, I feel my progress would be nearly unlimited. Still, one must make do.
No new developments in the nervous cases, much to my chagrin. Perhaps I shall try separating them, and seeing if mixing the sufferers of different neuroses proves any more effective. If nothing else, a change of scene may do some good, within reason. As long as certain children (note: certainly Dashmont) are restrained for everyone’s greater security.
Am quite fatigued this evening; no doubt the result of interactions with Pierce in early afternoon. Nothing to be concerned about. If it were not for the wigmaker’s appointment, I would be home by now, but I cannot leave him for the nurses; they would make a mess of things, and I cannot let someone see my children so unsupervised, of course. Who knows what may happen? Hopefully he will be quick; some of these young craftsmen dither about endlessly, and I wish to get home.
The rain has let up, I think, or at least quieted. I will conclude, and make one last set of rounds before he arrives. If it weren’t for the money, I doubt I would put up with the nuisance. Still, it must be endured. No progress without funding, as ever. It is the way of the world.
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Jonas Fogg
Prompt: 066, Rain
Word Count: 432
Rating: PG
Summary: Notes from Jonas Fogg
Author's Notes: This didn't turn out quite as I had planned, and I may write another Fogg story that was what I intended later. Or perhaps this will be part one of something. I don't know just yet.
It has rained constantly all day. My head aches with it, as if the steady drumming beat my temples, rather than the roof above. Everything is dank, in a way that makes one forget what it is to be dry.
The woman in the east wing made some progress, earlier in the day. She seemed at least initially responsive to my stimuli, and I have great hopes for her eventual recovery. Of course, her family will insist she remain in seclusion, no matter the results of my treatment, which is, clearly, a shame. It is, I confess, frustrating to know that although rehabilitation and yes, I daresay, cure are my eventual goals, families will continue to insist that those interred in asylum remain here indefinitely. Some of my children are nearly well, but how can they make any real progress when they are reduced to the same squalor as the more hopeless cases?
I do not mean to complain. I am given the most excellent raw material for my study, for diseases of the mind come in almost as many varieties as the minds they affect. Each case is a piece in the puzzle of a truly import discovery. I feel it, and I observe it every day. If the damned Beadle weren’t constantly lurking about, investigating my methods, I feel my progress would be nearly unlimited. Still, one must make do.
No new developments in the nervous cases, much to my chagrin. Perhaps I shall try separating them, and seeing if mixing the sufferers of different neuroses proves any more effective. If nothing else, a change of scene may do some good, within reason. As long as certain children (note: certainly Dashmont) are restrained for everyone’s greater security.
Am quite fatigued this evening; no doubt the result of interactions with Pierce in early afternoon. Nothing to be concerned about. If it were not for the wigmaker’s appointment, I would be home by now, but I cannot leave him for the nurses; they would make a mess of things, and I cannot let someone see my children so unsupervised, of course. Who knows what may happen? Hopefully he will be quick; some of these young craftsmen dither about endlessly, and I wish to get home.
The rain has let up, I think, or at least quieted. I will conclude, and make one last set of rounds before he arrives. If it weren’t for the money, I doubt I would put up with the nuisance. Still, it must be endured. No progress without funding, as ever. It is the way of the world.
