Eddie’s Words

[Edema Rue she/her]

5 hours ago, RoyalBeeMage said:

oh wow. i liked that. i dont normally enjoy poetry but that was something else

Thanks!! I like poems that tell stories, I think they’re a lot of fun. 

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

9 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

Thanks!! I like poems that tell stories, I think they’re a lot of fun. 

i do too. most poems in my opinion don't tell any stories. that's why i enjoyed the oddesy even though it is in poem form.

[Edema Rue she/her]

Maybe:

Spoiler

A.
C.
A.
B.
D.
A.
A.
A.

Rows of circles,
Each the same.
C.
Tiny little letters
That tell no stories. 
D.

E.
It’s raining.
There’s a gentle pattering,
Then it speeds up,
Then slows down,
Then up,
Then down.
A.

Perhaps there’s a princess,
Out there in the rain.
Maybe she’s cold,
Maybe she’s wet,
Maybe she’s knocking, 
Hoping for sanctuary,
And not seeing
That this is a prison.

A prison…
Maybe there’s a prisoner,
In the depths of a dungeon,
Chained,
Beaten,
And starved.
Maybe the rain drips through the cracks.
Maybe he’s trying to drink it.
Maybe he’s been there for years,
And has stopped dreaming
Of freedom. 
B.

The rain is slowing.
Maybe there’s a rainbow.
Maybe the world is being reborn,
Outside of these walls.
Maybe a flower is blooming.
Maybe the sidewalk is covered in worms. 
Maybe there’s a child,
Jumping in a puddle. 
B.
I want to jump in a puddle. 

How quiet it gets,
With only the sound of paper. 
If only I were in a long forgotten archive,
Where the paper smelled of dreams,
And the letters told stories.
E.
C.
C.
A.

Rows of circles,
All the same.
Rows of letters,
Never changing.
Rows of students.
I refuse to be a copy.
Are we not unique?
Must we all conform to an unknown ideal?

A.
C.
D.
B.
D.
C.
B.
C.
A.

Pencils scratch,
Onto meaningless pages.
Maybe I could stand up.
Maybe I could leave.
No…
No.
Best leave it be.
If it mattered,
Someone would have changed it by now. 

The prompt was to write a poem from the perspective of someone daydreaming during an exam

[Edema Rue she/her]

TW: so this one comes from one of the darkest places in my mind. Includes torture, rape, control, um…sorry.

Celia:

Spoiler

“Celia,” the boy said, smiling. “That’s a beautiful name for an orphan from the street.”
Celia smiled back. He was a beautiful boy, and clearly well off…a silver circlet rested in his dark curls. “I don’t remember who gave it to me. Do you have one? A name?”
The boy didn’t answer, just murmured her name again. “Celia…” Her name twisted on his tongue, and she fought away the chills that ran up her spine. “Celia.” 
The sound twisted at her. She forced out a laugh. “Stop that.”
“Why should I?” He asked, pale eyes twinkling. “Celia,” he added. He was playing with her name like a child with a favorite toy. 
“Stop it,” she said, unable to force levity into her tone.
“But, Celia, you gave me your name. It’s mine now, to do with as I please.” His eyes seemed to add a silent meaning. That it wasn’t just her name he had, it was her. That she was his to do with as he pleased. Celia pushed back from the table and started to stand. “Celia,” the boy said sharply, and she slowly sat back down, though she was sure she hadn’t meant to.
“What did you do to me?” She hissed. 
He winked. “Never give your name to strangers, my darling Celia.” She trembled involuntarily. Which was worse? The way he said her name, or the hunger in his eyes as he said it?
“I’m not yours,” she growled. 
“Aren’t you?” Then he stood up and started to walk away. He just left. Celia sat for a moment, frozen, and then she felt herself pulled after the boy. She stumbled to her feet, gasping and lurching after him. The boy turned around and walked back to her. The pull went away. He put a finger under her chin.
“Miss me?” Celia was too shocked even to answer, and he laughed. His hand slid from her chin up her jaw, then tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. His fingers felt like polished steel; icy and smooth and unyielding. He combed through her hair, eventually resting on the back of her neck. 
“Stop,” Celia whispered. “I’m not doing this.” She looked around frantically, trying to find someone, anyone, but the barkeeper was in the back, and it was so early in the day that the tavern was deserted. She tried to back away, but her back pressed into the wall. “Don’t-” The boy, still smiling, traced his icy finger around her neck. She raised her hands and tried to shove him away. She may as well have been pushing on a wall. 
But the boy didn’t lean in, didn’t try to kiss her or hit her, just continued tracing around her neck. Back to front to back. Agonizingly slow. Then he finished, pulling his hand away. But the cold stayed, and Celia reached a trembling hand up, feeling a strange wetness around her neck. Her hand passed through it easily, like fog, only it refused to disperse. “What did you-”
“Shh,” the boy said, putting a finger on her lips. “Your voice is less beautiful than your name, dear Celia, and I tire of it.” She gaped at him. He winked and raised his other hand. It held a faintly transparent chain. He reached for her neck but didn’t touch her. Then he pulled his hand away, and the chain hung from her neck. Was it heavy, or was she imagining it? 
The boy took the other end of the chain, wrapping it around his wrist. “Are you ready, Celia?”
Celia’s eyes were wide and afraid. This was magic. It had to be. “Stop-” 
“Ah, ah, ah,” the boy said, waving a finger at her. “I believe I said I was tired of your voice. You can nod.”
“I’m not some toy for you to play with,” Celia hissed. “There’s-” her voice cracked. “There’s nothing I can give you, so-” she cut off with a gasp as the cold tightened around her throat. 
The boy gave her a withering look, and for a long moment she couldn’t breathe. Then air rushed back into her lungs. “You will do as I say,” the boy said evenly. Then he turned and started walking, yanking on the chain that was still wrapped around his wrist. So she followed. 
They walked through the city. Him in front, her behind. She reached to grab the chain, once. It felt the same as the fog around her neck. Slightly damp, and very cold. But it would not disperse, and she could not grasp it. The boy turned around to smirk when she tried. Beyond that, he never looked back. They crossed into richer sections of the city, then came upon the palace gates. A pair of guards stood at the sides, but they only nodded to the boy, avoiding her gaze. 
She followed the boy across the grounds, into the palace. She tried to stop once. The boy didn’t slow; the chain grew taught, and pulled her after him, though he didn’t look like he was struggling. He didn’t even seem to notice. She coughed, struggling to get air into her lungs, then kept walking, shivering. The palace was beautiful, all polished tile and thick carpets. If she hadn’t been so afraid, she would have gawked.
Then the boy touched the wall, and it…liquified, almost. He walked through, pulling her with him. On the other side, it was dark. Celia couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even see the boy, but he was walking and so she couldn’t stop. They came to a staircase, and Celia fell down several times before realizing what it was. She almost cried out, but stopped herself.
It felt like they walked for hours, but eventually they arrived. Celia saw a small light flickering ahead, and the silhouette of the boy in front of her. He turned into a small room. Celia entered and gasped. It was completely empty, but the walls were lined with knives in every shape and size, with tools she could not comprehend, despite her years on the street. 
Slowly, calmly, the boy pulled the chain off his wrist. He bent, touching it to the floor at the center of the room, where it seemed to meld with the stones. Then, standing back up, he beckoned Celia to come closer, and she did. As she walked, the chain got shorter, though it remained taught. Instinctively, she knew it wouldn’t grow if she tried to walk away. And then she couldn’t move. 
The ice filled her, sharp and painful. She started to scream, and the pain got stronger, so she cut herself off, only the pain didn’t leave, and she was so cold…
“Celia, Celia, Celia.” The boy smiled, stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her.
His breath smelled of roses and rotted apples. Sweet and deadly. And then his mouth was on hers, and she was trembling, and tears were falling but she could make no sound, and her name held the weight of a noose, and she was woven into a web where his voice was the only string. And then his hands were around her waist, and he laughed as he traced circles around her stomach, and then her thighs, and then he was pinching and prodding and biting and still she could not move or speak, and her tears were the only warmth she had left.
“I’m hungry, Celia,” he crooned, his every touch making her breath come faster. Her heart was beating so fast she wondered if he could see it. He could certainly feel it. His laughter was proof of that. 
“Don’t be afraid, Celia. It’s no fun when you’re afraid.”
“Celia…”
***
It felt like hours later when he finally stepped back. Celia had run out of tears long ago. A trickle of blood dripped from the boy’s lips. When he opened his mouth to grin, his teeth were covered in glistening scarlet. He walked to the walls and began to caress the knives, touching them with a gentle care he hadn’t deigned to give her. Finally, he picked one up. 
Then he walked her and carefully placed the tip at the corner of her eye. “Your face is far too ugly for my liking. But don’t you worry, my precious Celia. I’ll fix it right up for you…”

PS: sorry if there are spelling errors, I wrote it on my phone. 

[Wierdo he/him]

25 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

TW: so this one comes from one of the darkest places in my mind. Includes torture, rape, control, um…sorry.

Celia:

  Hide contents

“Celia,” the boy said, smiling. “That’s a beautiful name for an orphan from the street.”
Celia smiled back. He was a beautiful boy, and clearly well off…a silver circlet rested in his dark curls. “I don’t remember who gave it to me. Do you have one? A name?”
The boy didn’t answer, just murmured her name again. “Celia…” Her name twisted on his tongue, and she fought away the chills that ran up her spine. “Celia.” 
The sound twisted at her. She forced out a laugh. “Stop that.”
“Why should I?” He asked, pale eyes twinkling. “Celia,” he added. He was playing with her name like a child with a favorite toy. 
“Stop it,” she said, unable to force levity into her tone.
“But, Celia, you gave me your name. It’s mine now, to do with as I please.” His eyes seemed to add a silent meaning. That it wasn’t just her name he had, it was her. That she was his to do with as he pleased. Celia pushed back from the table and started to stand. “Celia,” the boy said sharply, and she slowly sat back down, though she was sure she hadn’t meant to.
“What did you do to me?” She hissed. 
He winked. “Never give your name to strangers, my darling Celia.” She trembled involuntarily. Which was worse? The way he said her name, or the hunger in his eyes as he said it?
“I’m not yours,” she growled. 
“Aren’t you?” Then he stood up and started to walk away. He just left. Celia sat for a moment, frozen, and then she felt herself pulled after the boy. She stumbled to her feet, gasping and lurching after him. The boy turned around and walked back to her. The pull went away. He put a finger under her chin.
“Miss me?” Celia was too shocked even to answer, and he laughed. His hand slid from her chin up her jaw, then tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. His fingers felt like polished steel; icy and smooth and unyielding. He combed through her hair, eventually resting on the back of her neck. 
“Stop,” Celia whispered. “I’m not doing this.” She looked around frantically, trying to find someone, anyone, but the barkeeper was in the back, and it was so early in the day that the tavern was deserted. She tried to back away, but her back pressed into the wall. “Don’t-” The boy, still smiling, traced his icy finger around her neck. She raised her hands and tried to shove him away. She may as well have been pushing on a wall. 
But the boy didn’t lean in, didn’t try to kiss her or hit her, just continued tracing around her neck. Back to front to back. Agonizingly slow. Then he finished, pulling his hand away. But the cold stayed, and Celia reached a trembling hand up, feeling a strange wetness around her neck. Her hand passed through it easily, like fog, only it refused to disperse. “What did you-”
“Shh,” the boy said, putting a finger on her lips. “Your voice is less beautiful than your name, dear Celia, and I tire of it.” She gaped at him. He winked and raised his other hand. It held a faintly transparent chain. He reached for her neck but didn’t touch her. Then he pulled his hand away, and the chain hung from her neck. Was it heavy, or was she imagining it? 
The boy took the other end of the chain, wrapping it around his wrist. “Are you ready, Celia?”
Celia’s eyes were wide and afraid. This was magic. It had to be. “Stop-” 
“Ah, ah, ah,” the boy said, waving a finger at her. “I believe I said I was tired of your voice. You can nod.”
“I’m not some toy for you to play with,” Celia hissed. “There’s-” her voice cracked. “There’s nothing I can give you, so-” she cut off with a gasp as the cold tightened around her throat. 
The boy gave her a withering look, and for a long moment she couldn’t breathe. Then air rushed back into her lungs. “You will do as I say,” the boy said evenly. Then he turned and started walking, yanking on the chain that was still wrapped around his wrist. So she followed. 
They walked through the city. Him in front, her behind. She reached to grab the chain, once. It felt the same as the fog around her neck. Slightly damp, and very cold. But it would not disperse, and she could not grasp it. The boy turned around to smirk when she tried. Beyond that, he never looked back. They crossed into richer sections of the city, then came upon the palace gates. A pair of guards stood at the sides, but they only nodded to the boy, avoiding her gaze. 
She followed the boy across the grounds, into the palace. She tried to stop once. The boy didn’t slow; the chain grew taught, and pulled her after him, though he didn’t look like he was struggling. He didn’t even seem to notice. She coughed, struggling to get air into her lungs, then kept walking, shivering. The palace was beautiful, all polished tile and thick carpets. If she hadn’t been so afraid, she would have gawked.
Then the boy touched the wall, and it…liquified, almost. He walked through, pulling her with him. On the other side, it was dark. Celia couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even see the boy, but he was walking and so she couldn’t stop. They came to a staircase, and Celia fell down several times before realizing what it was. She almost cried out, but stopped herself.
It felt like they walked for hours, but eventually they arrived. Celia saw a small light flickering ahead, and the silhouette of the boy in front of her. He turned into a small room. Celia entered and gasped. It was completely empty, but the walls were lined with knives in every shape and size, with tools she could not comprehend, despite her years on the street. 
Slowly, calmly, the boy pulled the chain off his wrist. He bent, touching it to the floor at the center of the room, where it seemed to meld with the stones. Then, standing back up, he beckoned Celia to come closer, and she did. As she walked, the chain got shorter, though it remained taught. Instinctively, she knew it wouldn’t grow if she tried to walk away. And then she couldn’t move. 
The ice filled her, sharp and painful. She started to scream, and the pain got stronger, so she cut herself off, only the pain didn’t leave, and she was so cold…
“Celia, Celia, Celia.” The boy smiled, stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her.
His breath smelled of roses and rotted apples. Sweet and deadly. And then his mouth was on hers, and she was trembling, and tears were falling but she could make no sound, and her name held the weight of a noose, and she was woven into a web where his voice was the only string. And then his hands were around her waist, and he laughed as he traced circles around her stomach, and then her thighs, and then he was pinching and prodding and biting and still she could not move or speak, and her tears were the only warmth she had left.
“I’m hungry, Celia,” he crooned, his every touch making her breath come faster. Her heart was beating so fast she wondered if he could see it. He could certainly feel it. His laughter was proof of that. 
“Don’t be afraid, Celia. It’s no fun when you’re afraid.”
“Celia…”
***
It felt like hours later when he finally stepped back. Celia had run out of tears long ago. A trickle of blood dripped from the boy’s lips. When he opened his mouth to grin, his teeth were covered in glistening scarlet. He walked to the walls and began to caress the knives, touching them with a gentle care he hadn’t deigned to give her. Finally, he picked one up. 
Then he walked her and carefully placed the tip at the corner of her eye. “Your face is far too ugly for my liking. But don’t you worry, my precious Celia. I’ll fix it right up for you…”

PS: sorry if there are spelling errors, I wrote it on my phone. 

HOLY COW! that was- a story- a cool- but dauntingly how simple it would be on how to kidnap if magic existed- story

creepy.

[Just-A-Stick she/her]

54 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

TW: so this one comes from one of the darkest places in my mind. Includes torture, rape, control, um…sorry.

Celia:

  Reveal hidden contents

“Celia,” the boy said, smiling. “That’s a beautiful name for an orphan from the street.”
Celia smiled back. He was a beautiful boy, and clearly well off…a silver circlet rested in his dark curls. “I don’t remember who gave it to me. Do you have one? A name?”
The boy didn’t answer, just murmured her name again. “Celia…” Her name twisted on his tongue, and she fought away the chills that ran up her spine. “Celia.” 
The sound twisted at her. She forced out a laugh. “Stop that.”
“Why should I?” He asked, pale eyes twinkling. “Celia,” he added. He was playing with her name like a child with a favorite toy. 
“Stop it,” she said, unable to force levity into her tone.
“But, Celia, you gave me your name. It’s mine now, to do with as I please.” His eyes seemed to add a silent meaning. That it wasn’t just her name he had, it was her. That she was his to do with as he pleased. Celia pushed back from the table and started to stand. “Celia,” the boy said sharply, and she slowly sat back down, though she was sure she hadn’t meant to.
“What did you do to me?” She hissed. 
He winked. “Never give your name to strangers, my darling Celia.” She trembled involuntarily. Which was worse? The way he said her name, or the hunger in his eyes as he said it?
“I’m not yours,” she growled. 
“Aren’t you?” Then he stood up and started to walk away. He just left. Celia sat for a moment, frozen, and then she felt herself pulled after the boy. She stumbled to her feet, gasping and lurching after him. The boy turned around and walked back to her. The pull went away. He put a finger under her chin.
“Miss me?” Celia was too shocked even to answer, and he laughed. His hand slid from her chin up her jaw, then tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. His fingers felt like polished steel; icy and smooth and unyielding. He combed through her hair, eventually resting on the back of her neck. 
“Stop,” Celia whispered. “I’m not doing this.” She looked around frantically, trying to find someone, anyone, but the barkeeper was in the back, and it was so early in the day that the tavern was deserted. She tried to back away, but her back pressed into the wall. “Don’t-” The boy, still smiling, traced his icy finger around her neck. She raised her hands and tried to shove him away. She may as well have been pushing on a wall. 
But the boy didn’t lean in, didn’t try to kiss her or hit her, just continued tracing around her neck. Back to front to back. Agonizingly slow. Then he finished, pulling his hand away. But the cold stayed, and Celia reached a trembling hand up, feeling a strange wetness around her neck. Her hand passed through it easily, like fog, only it refused to disperse. “What did you-”
“Shh,” the boy said, putting a finger on her lips. “Your voice is less beautiful than your name, dear Celia, and I tire of it.” She gaped at him. He winked and raised his other hand. It held a faintly transparent chain. He reached for her neck but didn’t touch her. Then he pulled his hand away, and the chain hung from her neck. Was it heavy, or was she imagining it? 
The boy took the other end of the chain, wrapping it around his wrist. “Are you ready, Celia?”
Celia’s eyes were wide and afraid. This was magic. It had to be. “Stop-” 
“Ah, ah, ah,” the boy said, waving a finger at her. “I believe I said I was tired of your voice. You can nod.”
“I’m not some toy for you to play with,” Celia hissed. “There’s-” her voice cracked. “There’s nothing I can give you, so-” she cut off with a gasp as the cold tightened around her throat. 
The boy gave her a withering look, and for a long moment she couldn’t breathe. Then air rushed back into her lungs. “You will do as I say,” the boy said evenly. Then he turned and started walking, yanking on the chain that was still wrapped around his wrist. So she followed. 
They walked through the city. Him in front, her behind. She reached to grab the chain, once. It felt the same as the fog around her neck. Slightly damp, and very cold. But it would not disperse, and she could not grasp it. The boy turned around to smirk when she tried. Beyond that, he never looked back. They crossed into richer sections of the city, then came upon the palace gates. A pair of guards stood at the sides, but they only nodded to the boy, avoiding her gaze. 
She followed the boy across the grounds, into the palace. She tried to stop once. The boy didn’t slow; the chain grew taught, and pulled her after him, though he didn’t look like he was struggling. He didn’t even seem to notice. She coughed, struggling to get air into her lungs, then kept walking, shivering. The palace was beautiful, all polished tile and thick carpets. If she hadn’t been so afraid, she would have gawked.
Then the boy touched the wall, and it…liquified, almost. He walked through, pulling her with him. On the other side, it was dark. Celia couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even see the boy, but he was walking and so she couldn’t stop. They came to a staircase, and Celia fell down several times before realizing what it was. She almost cried out, but stopped herself.
It felt like they walked for hours, but eventually they arrived. Celia saw a small light flickering ahead, and the silhouette of the boy in front of her. He turned into a small room. Celia entered and gasped. It was completely empty, but the walls were lined with knives in every shape and size, with tools she could not comprehend, despite her years on the street. 
Slowly, calmly, the boy pulled the chain off his wrist. He bent, touching it to the floor at the center of the room, where it seemed to meld with the stones. Then, standing back up, he beckoned Celia to come closer, and she did. As she walked, the chain got shorter, though it remained taught. Instinctively, she knew it wouldn’t grow if she tried to walk away. And then she couldn’t move. 
The ice filled her, sharp and painful. She started to scream, and the pain got stronger, so she cut herself off, only the pain didn’t leave, and she was so cold…
“Celia, Celia, Celia.” The boy smiled, stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her.
His breath smelled of roses and rotted apples. Sweet and deadly. And then his mouth was on hers, and she was trembling, and tears were falling but she could make no sound, and her name held the weight of a noose, and she was woven into a web where his voice was the only string. And then his hands were around her waist, and he laughed as he traced circles around her stomach, and then her thighs, and then he was pinching and prodding and biting and still she could not move or speak, and her tears were the only warmth she had left.
“I’m hungry, Celia,” he crooned, his every touch making her breath come faster. Her heart was beating so fast she wondered if he could see it. He could certainly feel it. His laughter was proof of that. 
“Don’t be afraid, Celia. It’s no fun when you’re afraid.”
“Celia…”
***
It felt like hours later when he finally stepped back. Celia had run out of tears long ago. A trickle of blood dripped from the boy’s lips. When he opened his mouth to grin, his teeth were covered in glistening scarlet. He walked to the walls and began to caress the knives, touching them with a gentle care he hadn’t deigned to give her. Finally, he picked one up. 
Then he walked her and carefully placed the tip at the corner of her eye. “Your face is far too ugly for my liking. But don’t you worry, my precious Celia. I’ll fix it right up for you…”

PS: sorry if there are spelling errors, I wrote it on my phone. 

*fear*

Hey Eddie...?

You okay? 

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

1 hour ago, Edema Rue said:

TW: so this one comes from one of the darkest places in my mind. Includes torture, rape, control, um…sorry.

Celia:

  Hide contents

“Celia,” the boy said, smiling. “That’s a beautiful name for an orphan from the street.”
Celia smiled back. He was a beautiful boy, and clearly well off…a silver circlet rested in his dark curls. “I don’t remember who gave it to me. Do you have one? A name?”
The boy didn’t answer, just murmured her name again. “Celia…” Her name twisted on his tongue, and she fought away the chills that ran up her spine. “Celia.” 
The sound twisted at her. She forced out a laugh. “Stop that.”
“Why should I?” He asked, pale eyes twinkling. “Celia,” he added. He was playing with her name like a child with a favorite toy. 
“Stop it,” she said, unable to force levity into her tone.
“But, Celia, you gave me your name. It’s mine now, to do with as I please.” His eyes seemed to add a silent meaning. That it wasn’t just her name he had, it was her. That she was his to do with as he pleased. Celia pushed back from the table and started to stand. “Celia,” the boy said sharply, and she slowly sat back down, though she was sure she hadn’t meant to.
“What did you do to me?” She hissed. 
He winked. “Never give your name to strangers, my darling Celia.” She trembled involuntarily. Which was worse? The way he said her name, or the hunger in his eyes as he said it?
“I’m not yours,” she growled. 
“Aren’t you?” Then he stood up and started to walk away. He just left. Celia sat for a moment, frozen, and then she felt herself pulled after the boy. She stumbled to her feet, gasping and lurching after him. The boy turned around and walked back to her. The pull went away. He put a finger under her chin.
“Miss me?” Celia was too shocked even to answer, and he laughed. His hand slid from her chin up her jaw, then tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. His fingers felt like polished steel; icy and smooth and unyielding. He combed through her hair, eventually resting on the back of her neck. 
“Stop,” Celia whispered. “I’m not doing this.” She looked around frantically, trying to find someone, anyone, but the barkeeper was in the back, and it was so early in the day that the tavern was deserted. She tried to back away, but her back pressed into the wall. “Don’t-” The boy, still smiling, traced his icy finger around her neck. She raised her hands and tried to shove him away. She may as well have been pushing on a wall. 
But the boy didn’t lean in, didn’t try to kiss her or hit her, just continued tracing around her neck. Back to front to back. Agonizingly slow. Then he finished, pulling his hand away. But the cold stayed, and Celia reached a trembling hand up, feeling a strange wetness around her neck. Her hand passed through it easily, like fog, only it refused to disperse. “What did you-”
“Shh,” the boy said, putting a finger on her lips. “Your voice is less beautiful than your name, dear Celia, and I tire of it.” She gaped at him. He winked and raised his other hand. It held a faintly transparent chain. He reached for her neck but didn’t touch her. Then he pulled his hand away, and the chain hung from her neck. Was it heavy, or was she imagining it? 
The boy took the other end of the chain, wrapping it around his wrist. “Are you ready, Celia?”
Celia’s eyes were wide and afraid. This was magic. It had to be. “Stop-” 
“Ah, ah, ah,” the boy said, waving a finger at her. “I believe I said I was tired of your voice. You can nod.”
“I’m not some toy for you to play with,” Celia hissed. “There’s-” her voice cracked. “There’s nothing I can give you, so-” she cut off with a gasp as the cold tightened around her throat. 
The boy gave her a withering look, and for a long moment she couldn’t breathe. Then air rushed back into her lungs. “You will do as I say,” the boy said evenly. Then he turned and started walking, yanking on the chain that was still wrapped around his wrist. So she followed. 
They walked through the city. Him in front, her behind. She reached to grab the chain, once. It felt the same as the fog around her neck. Slightly damp, and very cold. But it would not disperse, and she could not grasp it. The boy turned around to smirk when she tried. Beyond that, he never looked back. They crossed into richer sections of the city, then came upon the palace gates. A pair of guards stood at the sides, but they only nodded to the boy, avoiding her gaze. 
She followed the boy across the grounds, into the palace. She tried to stop once. The boy didn’t slow; the chain grew taught, and pulled her after him, though he didn’t look like he was struggling. He didn’t even seem to notice. She coughed, struggling to get air into her lungs, then kept walking, shivering. The palace was beautiful, all polished tile and thick carpets. If she hadn’t been so afraid, she would have gawked.
Then the boy touched the wall, and it…liquified, almost. He walked through, pulling her with him. On the other side, it was dark. Celia couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even see the boy, but he was walking and so she couldn’t stop. They came to a staircase, and Celia fell down several times before realizing what it was. She almost cried out, but stopped herself.
It felt like they walked for hours, but eventually they arrived. Celia saw a small light flickering ahead, and the silhouette of the boy in front of her. He turned into a small room. Celia entered and gasped. It was completely empty, but the walls were lined with knives in every shape and size, with tools she could not comprehend, despite her years on the street. 
Slowly, calmly, the boy pulled the chain off his wrist. He bent, touching it to the floor at the center of the room, where it seemed to meld with the stones. Then, standing back up, he beckoned Celia to come closer, and she did. As she walked, the chain got shorter, though it remained taught. Instinctively, she knew it wouldn’t grow if she tried to walk away. And then she couldn’t move. 
The ice filled her, sharp and painful. She started to scream, and the pain got stronger, so she cut herself off, only the pain didn’t leave, and she was so cold…
“Celia, Celia, Celia.” The boy smiled, stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her.
His breath smelled of roses and rotted apples. Sweet and deadly. And then his mouth was on hers, and she was trembling, and tears were falling but she could make no sound, and her name held the weight of a noose, and she was woven into a web where his voice was the only string. And then his hands were around her waist, and he laughed as he traced circles around her stomach, and then her thighs, and then he was pinching and prodding and biting and still she could not move or speak, and her tears were the only warmth she had left.
“I’m hungry, Celia,” he crooned, his every touch making her breath come faster. Her heart was beating so fast she wondered if he could see it. He could certainly feel it. His laughter was proof of that. 
“Don’t be afraid, Celia. It’s no fun when you’re afraid.”
“Celia…”
***
It felt like hours later when he finally stepped back. Celia had run out of tears long ago. A trickle of blood dripped from the boy’s lips. When he opened his mouth to grin, his teeth were covered in glistening scarlet. He walked to the walls and began to caress the knives, touching them with a gentle care he hadn’t deigned to give her. Finally, he picked one up. 
Then he walked her and carefully placed the tip at the corner of her eye. “Your face is far too ugly for my liking. But don’t you worry, my precious Celia. I’ll fix it right up for you…”

PS: sorry if there are spelling errors, I wrote it on my phone. 

That was…scary. You are an excellent writer, words rarely affect my emotions like this.

[Lotus Blossom she/her]

fell upon this page... and read through many of these...

i have no words, eddie.

none.

or at least, none that would be of any significance after having read your writing  

but i have some high, high respect for you, i'll assure you that.

[Edema Rue she/her]

4 hours ago, Wierdo said:

HOLY COW! that was- a story- a cool- but dauntingly how simple it would be on how to kidnap if magic existed- story

creepy.

Heehee thank youuu…sometimes I’m a little glad that we don’t have that sort of magic on earth…

4 hours ago, Just-A-Stick said:

*fear*

Hey Eddie...?

You okay? 

Yeah I am, pinky promise, I just…need to write dark things once in a while <33

(don’t be afraid I’m here)

3 hours ago, Weaver of Lights said:

That was…scary. You are an excellent writer, words rarely affect my emotions like this.

Thank you so much!! I’ve been working a lot on trying to get the emotions I put in to come back out, so…I’m glad it’s working!

1 hour ago, Lotus Blossom said:

fell upon this page... and read through many of these...

i have no words, eddie.

none.

or at least, none that would be of any significance after having read your writing  

but i have some high, high respect for you, i'll assure you that.

Oh my chasms thank you so much, this means so much because I absolutely LOVE your words, which will always be significant I promise.

[Edema Rue she/her]

Note: TO BE READ IN A BRITISH ACCENT. UNLESS YOU CAN’T DO ONE. THEN PLEASE STOP TRYING ALREADY YOU’RE HURTING MY EARS

Peter:

Spoiler

She was looking in the mirror, obsessed with each imperfection on her own face. She raked her fingers through her hair, across her face. She'd find a zit, place her fingers on each side, and squeeze until it exploded outward, leaving a spot of yellow goo on the already dirty glass. Then blood would start to come out, and she’d move on. She had half a dozen bleeding sores on her face, and too many tears to count dripped off her chin. 

Her breathing came faster as she was overcome with a strange and powerful hate. For a moment, she regretted her lack of a knife. She couldn't stand to be in her own body. Then she looked down at her long painted nails. She raised a hand to her face and, fascinated, dug into her forehead, pulling it across and embracing the pain she deserved. Her tears began to dry, though her rage only got hotter. And her hate. So much hate.  How dare she be alive. How dare the world bring her to this. She wanted to burn the world to ashes and watch it crumble…she hated her face, hated her body, hated everything she saw in the mirror and many things she did not.

 She didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, when she finally noticed him. Her window was open, as she’d left it, but now there was a boy framed against the darkness. He smiled. She shrieked, backing up against her mirror. “Get out of my room!” How did he even…this is the second floor! And then, quieter, I hope he’s here to kill me.

“I’m Peter,” the boy said.

It was so absurd, she laughed. “Peter? Like…Peter Pan?” I suppose it would explain how he got up here…

He waved. “That’s me. And you are…?”

“Emilia,” she said quickly. “But everyone calls me Milly.” 

“Milly it is, then,” Peter said, sitting down on her windowsill. “Tell me, Milly, why is it that I’m here?”

She blinked. “Why…why you’re here? How should I know?”

He shrugged, winking cheerfully. “I heard you.”

She blinked. “I wasn’t…being loud.”

“Not with my ears.” he hesitated. “I guess it’s more accurate to say that I felt you.”

“You…felt me,” Milly said flatly. 

He flushed. “It happens, sometimes. The most desperate moments, the stars that are close to winking out. I feel them—you—and so I come. So…why am I here? Are you lonely, angry, afraid?”

“I…” Milly looked down, her eyes wet. “This isn’t real.”

“I’m just as real as you are, Milly.”

“No you aren’t,” she said, looking at him. “I…I must be imagining you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you won’t mind if I leave, then?”

“No!” 

“No?”

Milly huffed. It was crazy, but it was the sort of crazy that she needed, just then. “Please don’t go, Peter.” He was quiet for a long moment, and she sighed. “I am lonely, if it matters. And I’m terribly afraid, and angry too. And if you’re here to help, well…I could use a friend.

Peter smiled, and this time Milly smiled back, the movement making the dried salt on her cheeks flake away.

“Would you like to come home with me, Milly?”

“What, to Neverland?” Milly laughed. 

Peter nodded seriously. “As I said. Home. You seem like you’ve been looking for home.”

Milly’s lip trembled. 

“Hey, hey,” he said. He slid off her windowsill and into the room, walking over to her and pulling her into a hug. It was so...so stupid. There was no world in which this would be at all okay…but somehow, it was. “It’s all right to cry,” he murmured, and suddenly her tears were soaking through his ragged shirt. 

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. “I want to go home.” She hated herself for even daring to say it, for being this weak. But Peter seemed to understand. 

“It’s not weak,” he said firmly. “You were born for a world that isn’t this one, that’s all. And I’m going to help you find it, all right?”

“All right,” she said, drying her tears. 

“Is there anything you want to bring with you?” 

Milly looked around, suddenly overwhelmed. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Peter said quickly. “You can always come back if you find that you’ve forgotten something. And this choice doesn’t need to be forever.”

Milly nodded. She picked up a notebook and pen, then looked at Peter and nodded again. “I’m ready.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the window. “Have you ever wanted to fly, Milly?”

She laughed, blinking away tears. “Of course, Peter. Are you going to sprinkle me in stardust?”

He shrugged. “Do you need it?”

Instead of answering, Milly closed her eyes and jumped. Her fear spiked, just for a moment, and then…and then she wasn’t falling, and Peter was holding her hand, and he was warm and strong and safe.

“You’re very brave,” he said.

She flushed. “No. I’m terrified. And I have been, my whole life.”

“Then you are that much braver for it,” he said, meeting her eye. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

He pulled on her hand, and suddenly they were shooting up towards the stars, the wind dancing through her hair. Peter’s laughter echoed through the darkness, and soon her own joined it. And though she hadn’t quite forgotten her despair, it faded, giving way to his magic. Perhaps...perhaps there was a place where she could belong.

“Welcome home, Milly,” he whispered, his breath warm in her ear. 

“Welcome home.”

Spoiler

@Kajsa @Medium they're so cuuuuttteeeee (I'm mentioning you guys because idk if you ever read this thread but I feel like you'd appreciate this)

 

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

5 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Note: TO BE READ IN A BRITISH ACCENT. UNLESS YOU CAN’T DO ONE. THEN PLEASE STOP TRYING ALREADY YOU’RE HURTING MY EARS

Peter:

  Hide contents

She was looking in the mirror, obsessed with each imperfection on her own face. She raked her fingers through her hair, across her face. She'd find a zit, place her fingers on each side, and squeeze until it exploded outward, leaving a spot of yellow goo on the already dirty glass. Then blood would start to come out, and she’d move on. She had half a dozen bleeding sores on her face, and too many tears to count dripped off her chin. 

Her breathing came faster as she was overcome with a strange and powerful hate. For a moment, she regretted her lack of a knife. She couldn't stand to be in her own body. Then she looked down at her long painted nails. She raised a hand to her face and, fascinated, dug into her forehead, pulling it across and embracing the pain she deserved. Her tears began to dry, though her rage only got hotter. And her hate. So much hate.  How dare she be alive. How dare the world bring her to this. She wanted to burn the world to ashes and watch it crumble…she hated her face, hated her body, hated everything she saw in the mirror and many things she did not.

 She didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, when she finally noticed him. Her window was open, as she’d left it, but now there was a boy framed against the darkness. He smiled. She shrieked, backing up against her mirror. “Get out of my room!” How did he even…this is the second floor! And then, quieter, I hope he’s here to kill me.

“I’m Peter,” the boy said.

It was so absurd, she laughed. “Peter? Like…Peter Pan?” I suppose it would explain how he got up here…

He waved. “That’s me. And you are…?”

“Emilia,” she said quickly. “But everyone calls me Milly.” 

“Milly it is, then,” Peter said, sitting down on her windowsill. “Tell me, Milly, why is it that I’m here?”

She blinked. “Why…why you’re here? How should I know?”

He shrugged, winking cheerfully. “I heard you.”

She blinked. “I wasn’t…being loud.”

“Not with my ears.” he hesitated. “I guess it’s more accurate to say that I felt you.”

“You…felt me,” Milly said flatly. 

He flushed. “It happens, sometimes. The most desperate moments, the stars that are close to winking out. I feel them—you—and so I come. So…why am I here? Are you lonely, angry, afraid?”

“I…” Milly looked down, her eyes wet. “This isn’t real.”

“I’m just as real as you are, Milly.”

“No you aren’t,” she said, looking at him. “I…I must be imagining you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you won’t mind if I leave, then?”

“No!” 

“No?”

Milly huffed. It was crazy, but it was the sort of crazy that she needed, just then. “Please don’t go, Peter.” He was quiet for a long moment, and she sighed. “I am lonely, if it matters. And I’m terribly afraid, and angry too. And if you’re here to help, well…I could use a friend.

Peter smiled, and this time Milly smiled back, the movement making the dried salt on her cheeks flake away.

“Would you like to come home with me, Milly?”

“What, to Neverland?” Milly laughed. 

Peter nodded seriously. “As I said. Home. You seem like you’ve been looking for home.”

Milly’s lip trembled. 

“Hey, hey,” he said. He slid off her windowsill and into the room, walking over to her and pulling her into a hug. It was so...so stupid. There was no world in which this would be at all okay…but somehow, it was. “It’s all right to cry,” he murmured, and suddenly her tears were soaking through his ragged shirt. 

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. “I want to go home.” She hated herself for even daring to say it, for being this weak. But Peter seemed to understand. 

“It’s not weak,” he said firmly. “You were born for a world that isn’t this one, that’s all. And I’m going to help you find it, all right?”

“All right,” she said, drying her tears. 

“Is there anything you want to bring with you?” 

Milly looked around, suddenly overwhelmed. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Peter said quickly. “You can always come back if you find that you’ve forgotten something. And this choice doesn’t need to be forever.”

Milly nodded. She picked up a notebook and pen, then looked at Peter and nodded again. “I’m ready.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the window. “Have you ever wanted to fly, Milly?”

She laughed, blinking away tears. “Of course, Peter. Are you going to sprinkle me in stardust?”

He shrugged. “Do you need it?”

Instead of answering, Milly closed her eyes and jumped. Her fear spiked, just for a moment, and then…and then she wasn’t falling, and Peter was holding her hand, and he was warm and strong and safe.

“You’re very brave,” he said.

She flushed. “No. I’m terrified. And I have been, my whole life.”

“Then you are that much braver for it,” he said, meeting her eye. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

He pulled on her hand, and suddenly they were shooting up towards the stars, the wind dancing through her hair. Peter’s laughter echoed through the darkness, and soon her own joined it. And though she hadn’t quite forgotten her despair, it faded, giving way to his magic. Perhaps...perhaps there was a place where she could belong.

“Welcome home, Milly,” he whispered, his breath warm in her ear. 

“Welcome home.”

  Hide contents

@Kajsa @Medium they're so cuuuuttteeeee (I'm mentioning you guys because idk if you ever read this thread but I feel like you'd appreciate this)

 

Very interesting, a good moral. Great job, Eddie.

[kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ she/her]

7 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

Note: TO BE READ IN A BRITISH ACCENT. UNLESS YOU CAN’T DO ONE. THEN PLEASE STOP TRYING ALREADY YOU’RE HURTING MY EARS

Peter:

  Hide contents

She was looking in the mirror, obsessed with each imperfection on her own face. She raked her fingers through her hair, across her face. She'd find a zit, place her fingers on each side, and squeeze until it exploded outward, leaving a spot of yellow goo on the already dirty glass. Then blood would start to come out, and she’d move on. She had half a dozen bleeding sores on her face, and too many tears to count dripped off her chin. 

Her breathing came faster as she was overcome with a strange and powerful hate. For a moment, she regretted her lack of a knife. She couldn't stand to be in her own body. Then she looked down at her long painted nails. She raised a hand to her face and, fascinated, dug into her forehead, pulling it across and embracing the pain she deserved. Her tears began to dry, though her rage only got hotter. And her hate. So much hate.  How dare she be alive. How dare the world bring her to this. She wanted to burn the world to ashes and watch it crumble…she hated her face, hated her body, hated everything she saw in the mirror and many things she did not.

 She didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, when she finally noticed him. Her window was open, as she’d left it, but now there was a boy framed against the darkness. He smiled. She shrieked, backing up against her mirror. “Get out of my room!” How did he even…this is the second floor! And then, quieter, I hope he’s here to kill me.

“I’m Peter,” the boy said.

It was so absurd, she laughed. “Peter? Like…Peter Pan?” I suppose it would explain how he got up here…

He waved. “That’s me. And you are…?”

“Emilia,” she said quickly. “But everyone calls me Milly.” 

“Milly it is, then,” Peter said, sitting down on her windowsill. “Tell me, Milly, why is it that I’m here?”

She blinked. “Why…why you’re here? How should I know?”

He shrugged, winking cheerfully. “I heard you.”

She blinked. “I wasn’t…being loud.”

“Not with my ears.” he hesitated. “I guess it’s more accurate to say that I felt you.”

“You…felt me,” Milly said flatly. 

He flushed. “It happens, sometimes. The most desperate moments, the stars that are close to winking out. I feel them—you—and so I come. So…why am I here? Are you lonely, angry, afraid?”

“I…” Milly looked down, her eyes wet. “This isn’t real.”

“I’m just as real as you are, Milly.”

“No you aren’t,” she said, looking at him. “I…I must be imagining you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you won’t mind if I leave, then?”

“No!” 

“No?”

Milly huffed. It was crazy, but it was the sort of crazy that she needed, just then. “Please don’t go, Peter.” He was quiet for a long moment, and she sighed. “I am lonely, if it matters. And I’m terribly afraid, and angry too. And if you’re here to help, well…I could use a friend.

Peter smiled, and this time Milly smiled back, the movement making the dried salt on her cheeks flake away.

“Would you like to come home with me, Milly?”

“What, to Neverland?” Milly laughed. 

Peter nodded seriously. “As I said. Home. You seem like you’ve been looking for home.”

Milly’s lip trembled. 

“Hey, hey,” he said. He slid off her windowsill and into the room, walking over to her and pulling her into a hug. It was so...so stupid. There was no world in which this would be at all okay…but somehow, it was. “It’s all right to cry,” he murmured, and suddenly her tears were soaking through his ragged shirt. 

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. “I want to go home.” She hated herself for even daring to say it, for being this weak. But Peter seemed to understand. 

“It’s not weak,” he said firmly. “You were born for a world that isn’t this one, that’s all. And I’m going to help you find it, all right?”

“All right,” she said, drying her tears. 

“Is there anything you want to bring with you?” 

Milly looked around, suddenly overwhelmed. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Peter said quickly. “You can always come back if you find that you’ve forgotten something. And this choice doesn’t need to be forever.”

Milly nodded. She picked up a notebook and pen, then looked at Peter and nodded again. “I’m ready.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the window. “Have you ever wanted to fly, Milly?”

She laughed, blinking away tears. “Of course, Peter. Are you going to sprinkle me in stardust?”

He shrugged. “Do you need it?”

Instead of answering, Milly closed her eyes and jumped. Her fear spiked, just for a moment, and then…and then she wasn’t falling, and Peter was holding her hand, and he was warm and strong and safe.

“You’re very brave,” he said.

She flushed. “No. I’m terrified. And I have been, my whole life.”

“Then you are that much braver for it,” he said, meeting her eye. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

He pulled on her hand, and suddenly they were shooting up towards the stars, the wind dancing through her hair. Peter’s laughter echoed through the darkness, and soon her own joined it. And though she hadn’t quite forgotten her despair, it faded, giving way to his magic. Perhaps...perhaps there was a place where she could belong.

“Welcome home, Milly,” he whispered, his breath warm in her ear. 

“Welcome home.”

  Hide contents

@Kajsa @Medium they're so cuuuuttteeeee (I'm mentioning you guys because idk if you ever read this thread but I feel like you'd appreciate this)

 

Awww wait that’s adorable that was such a wholesome start to my morning 

[Edema Rue she/her]

The prompt was to write a poem expressing a child’s wonder at seeing fireworks.

Magic:

Spoiler

The sound is louder than gunshots,
But the lights are so beautiful.
The fire is dangerous, surely,
But look at the colors. 

‘There’s no such thing as magic,’
That’s what they told me.
‘Wake up,’
That’s what they said.
‘Stop dreaming.’

But look; look!
Have they forgotten how to see?
There are lights in the sky,
Dazzling flowers,
Endless rainbows
Without any rain. 

Am I the only one who sees it?
Have their aching necks kept them from looking up?
If so,
They ought to lie on the grass. 
It’s soft. 
And all I can see is the sky.

And for a moment,
All is right. 
Caught up in this strange reality,
I see magic. 
Away from their screaming,
Screaming,
Screaming,
I see beauty.
In a place I will never return to,
I see home. 

Would they tell me it’s stupid?
If they ever dared to feel,
Could they understand that there is such power in being able to love?
But…
But they don’t.
They lost their hope.
They lost their sight. 
They lost their magic. 

The sound is louder than gunshots,
Maybe it’s trying to wake them.
This one’s purple…
No, it’s changed.
Now vibrant yellow is exploding out of it.
The fire could be dangerous,
So they consider stopping.

Why do they replace my magic with mundane?
I sit in their classrooms for 5 days a week.
Must they take away what little wonders they’ve left me?
This one sounds like it’s screaming.

The green against the deep purple sky,
Ringed with pink and flanked by clouds,
With a full entorage of stars.
Mom?
Mom, do you see it?
Yes, yes you do.
So why don’t you care?

The sound is louder than gunshots…
Don’t make me leave.
The fire is dangerous, surely…
Fine.
I’m coming.

 

[Lotus Blossom she/her]

On 3/22/2024 at 11:54 PM, Edema Rue said:

Oh my chasms thank you so much, this means so much because I absolutely LOVE your words, which will always be significant I promise.

You have a true gift for writing, that's for sure 

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

On 3/30/2024 at 4:05 PM, Edema Rue said:

The prompt was to write a poem expressing a child’s wonder at seeing fireworks.

Magic:

  Hide contents

The sound is louder than gunshots,
But the lights are so beautiful.
The fire is dangerous, surely,
But look at the colors. 

‘There’s no such thing as magic,’
That’s what they told me.
‘Wake up,’
That’s what they said.
‘Stop dreaming.’

But look; look!
Have they forgotten how to see?
There are lights in the sky,
Dazzling flowers,
Endless rainbows
Without any rain. 

Am I the only one who sees it?
Have their aching necks kept them from looking up?
If so,
They ought to lie on the grass. 
It’s soft. 
And all I can see is the sky.

And for a moment,
All is right. 
Caught up in this strange reality,
I see magic. 
Away from their screaming,
Screaming,
Screaming,
I see beauty.
In a place I will never return to,
I see home. 

Would they tell me it’s stupid?
If they ever dared to feel,
Could they understand that there is such power in being able to love?
But…
But they don’t.
They lost their hope.
They lost their sight. 
They lost their magic. 

The sound is louder than gunshots,
Maybe it’s trying to wake them.
This one’s purple…
No, it’s changed.
Now vibrant yellow is exploding out of it.
The fire could be dangerous,
So they consider stopping.

Why do they replace my magic with mundane?
I sit in their classrooms for 5 days a week.
Must they take away what little wonders they’ve left me?
This one sounds like it’s screaming.

The green against the deep purple sky,
Ringed with pink and flanked by clouds,
With a full entorage of stars.
Mom?
Mom, do you see it?
Yes, yes you do.
So why don’t you care?

The sound is louder than gunshots…
Don’t make me leave.
The fire is dangerous, surely…
Fine.
I’m coming.

 

Love it!

[Edema Rue she/her]

GUYS please read this I’m in love with it and I don’t know why.

Between:

Spoiler

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?” 

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt. 

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

***

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You—you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so loud, all the time. And it’s my fault. Maybe—maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling. 

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

***

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah.” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, even though they’re gross, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

***

Annie felt her heart rate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closed her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said. 

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone. 

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spill over. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.” 

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

***

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death.” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please…” 

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered. 

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was something so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind. 

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you—can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But it just isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and-and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just-my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her—tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

***

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But…I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back. 

 

“I am lost

To the world

That should have been mine. 

I am a frequent visitor

In a place

Between the living and the dead.

 

My mother fears Death,

My friends crave it. 

My teachers don’t speak of it,

And my enemies use it as a taunt. 

 

But the world of life twists,

And turns,

And changes

Every time I dare to blink.

 

And when even my heart is inconsistent,

Death is a constant. 

Not looming. 

Not waiting. 

But welcoming. 

In a world of extremes,

I have found a home Between.

 

And when I come home,

It is Death who greets me.”

 

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world. 

***

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

Spoiler

This was the prompt, I’m curious did it make sense without the context?

Death's favourite human comes to visit. The young girl has a medical condition where her heart stops for a few minutes every once in awhile. Death is the girl's favourite friend.

Also sorry it’s had exactly zero editing, I finished it maybe 10 minutes ago  

I’ll probably rewrite the poem since I don’t love it, but I really like the rest of it

 

[Experience he/him]

Eddie it's so good what. The character change you show in the little clips is so good I can't even

[The cheeseman Don't you dare go Hollow!]

25 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS please read this I’m in love with it and I don’t know why.

Between:

  Reveal hidden contents

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?” 

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt. 

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

***

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You—you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so loud, all the time. And it’s my fault. Maybe—maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling. 

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

***

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah.” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, even though they’re gross, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

***

Annie felt her heart rate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closed her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said. 

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone. 

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spill over. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.” 

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

***

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death.” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please…” 

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered. 

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was something so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind. 

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you—can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But it just isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and-and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just-my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her—tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

***

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But…I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back. 

 

“I am lost

To the world

That should have been mine. 

I am a frequent visitor

In a place

Between the living and the dead.

 

My mother fears Death,

My friends crave it. 

My teachers don’t speak of it,

And my enemies use it as a taunt. 

 

But the world of life twists,

And turns,

And changes

Every time I dare to blink.

 

And when even my heart is inconsistent,

Death is a constant. 

Not looming. 

Not waiting. 

But welcoming. 

In a world of extremes,

I have found a home Between.

 

And when I come home,

It is Death who greets me.”

 

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world. 

***

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

  Reveal hidden contents

This was the prompt, I’m curious did it make sense without the context?

Death's favourite human comes to visit. The young girl has a medical condition where her heart stops for a few minutes every once in awhile. Death is the girl's favourite friend.

Also sorry it’s had exactly zero editing, I finished it maybe 10 minutes ago  

I’ll probably rewrite the poem since I don’t love it, but I really like the rest of it

 

THAT'S AMAZING AHHHHH

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

1 hour ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS please read this I’m in love with it and I don’t know why.

Between:

  Reveal hidden contents

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?” 

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt. 

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

***

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You—you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so loud, all the time. And it’s my fault. Maybe—maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling. 

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

***

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah.” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, even though they’re gross, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

***

Annie felt her heart rate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closed her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said. 

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone. 

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spill over. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.” 

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

***

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death.” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please…” 

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered. 

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was something so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind. 

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you—can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But it just isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and-and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just-my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her—tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

***

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But…I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back. 

 

“I am lost

To the world

That should have been mine. 

I am a frequent visitor

In a place

Between the living and the dead.

 

My mother fears Death,

My friends crave it. 

My teachers don’t speak of it,

And my enemies use it as a taunt. 

 

But the world of life twists,

And turns,

And changes

Every time I dare to blink.

 

And when even my heart is inconsistent,

Death is a constant. 

Not looming. 

Not waiting. 

But welcoming. 

In a world of extremes,

I have found a home Between.

 

And when I come home,

It is Death who greets me.”

 

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world. 

***

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

  Reveal hidden contents

This was the prompt, I’m curious did it make sense without the context?

Death's favourite human comes to visit. The young girl has a medical condition where her heart stops for a few minutes every once in awhile. Death is the girl's favourite friend.

Also sorry it’s had exactly zero editing, I finished it maybe 10 minutes ago  

I’ll probably rewrite the poem since I don’t love it, but I really like the rest of it

 

That was amazing Eddie! I think it’s one of my favorite things you’ve written, and that’s saying a lot!

[The Aspiring Archivist any pronouns]

3 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS please read this I’m in love with it and I don’t know why.

Between:

  Hide contents

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?” 

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt. 

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

***

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You—you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so loud, all the time. And it’s my fault. Maybe—maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling. 

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

***

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah.” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, even though they’re gross, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

***

Annie felt her heart rate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closed her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said. 

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone. 

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spill over. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.” 

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

***

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death.” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please…” 

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered. 

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was something so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind. 

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you—can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But it just isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and-and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just-my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her—tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

***

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But…I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back. 

 

“I am lost

To the world

That should have been mine. 

I am a frequent visitor

In a place

Between the living and the dead.

 

My mother fears Death,

My friends crave it. 

My teachers don’t speak of it,

And my enemies use it as a taunt. 

 

But the world of life twists,

And turns,

And changes

Every time I dare to blink.

 

And when even my heart is inconsistent,

Death is a constant. 

Not looming. 

Not waiting. 

But welcoming. 

In a world of extremes,

I have found a home Between.

 

And when I come home,

It is Death who greets me.”

 

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world. 

***

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

  Hide contents

This was the prompt, I’m curious did it make sense without the context?

Death's favourite human comes to visit. The young girl has a medical condition where her heart stops for a few minutes every once in awhile. Death is the girl's favourite friend.

Also sorry it’s had exactly zero editing, I finished it maybe 10 minutes ago  

I’ll probably rewrite the poem since I don’t love it, but I really like the rest of it

 

This is awesome, I like it a lot.

At least to me, it feels kind of like something that could have happened to my Death when he was new to his job.

Overall, it's very interesting and thought-provoking

[Cash67]

7 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS please read this I’m in love with it and I don’t know why.

Between:

  Hide contents

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?” 

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt. 

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

***

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You—you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so loud, all the time. And it’s my fault. Maybe—maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling. 

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

***

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah.” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, even though they’re gross, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

***

Annie felt her heart rate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closed her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said. 

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone. 

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spill over. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.” 

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

***

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death.” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please…” 

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered. 

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was something so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind. 

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you—can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But it just isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and-and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just-my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her—tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

***

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But…I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back. 

 

“I am lost

To the world

That should have been mine. 

I am a frequent visitor

In a place

Between the living and the dead.

 

My mother fears Death,

My friends crave it. 

My teachers don’t speak of it,

And my enemies use it as a taunt. 

 

But the world of life twists,

And turns,

And changes

Every time I dare to blink.

 

And when even my heart is inconsistent,

Death is a constant. 

Not looming. 

Not waiting. 

But welcoming. 

In a world of extremes,

I have found a home Between.

 

And when I come home,

It is Death who greets me.”

 

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world. 

***

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

  Reveal hidden contents

This was the prompt, I’m curious did it make sense without the context?

Death's favourite human comes to visit. The young girl has a medical condition where her heart stops for a few minutes every once in awhile. Death is the girl's favourite friend.

Also sorry it’s had exactly zero editing, I finished it maybe 10 minutes ago  

I’ll probably rewrite the poem since I don’t love it, but I really like the rest of it

 

Well now I’m gonna have emotions while I teach. That was gut punch after gut punch in the most wholesome way possible! 

[Ookla de los Cuervos he/him]

9 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS please read this I’m in love with it and I don’t know why.

Between:

  Reveal hidden contents

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?” 

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt. 

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

***

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You—you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so loud, all the time. And it’s my fault. Maybe—maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling. 

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

***

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah.” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, even though they’re gross, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

***

Annie felt her heart rate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closed her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said. 

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone. 

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spill over. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.” 

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

***

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death.” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please…” 

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered. 

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was something so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind. 

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you—can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But it just isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and-and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just-my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her—tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

***

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But…I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back. 

 

“I am lost

To the world

That should have been mine. 

I am a frequent visitor

In a place

Between the living and the dead.

 

My mother fears Death,

My friends crave it. 

My teachers don’t speak of it,

And my enemies use it as a taunt. 

 

But the world of life twists,

And turns,

And changes

Every time I dare to blink.

 

And when even my heart is inconsistent,

Death is a constant. 

Not looming. 

Not waiting. 

But welcoming. 

In a world of extremes,

I have found a home Between.

 

And when I come home,

It is Death who greets me.”

 

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world. 

***

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

  Reveal hidden contents

This was the prompt, I’m curious did it make sense without the context?

Death's favourite human comes to visit. The young girl has a medical condition where her heart stops for a few minutes every once in awhile. Death is the girl's favourite friend.

Also sorry it’s had exactly zero editing, I finished it maybe 10 minutes ago  

I’ll probably rewrite the poem since I don’t love it, but I really like the rest of it

 

... this will haunt me for an eternity. dammit...

[Edema Rue she/her]

Aww my chasms thank you all so much!! 
 

8 hours ago, Experience said:

Eddie it's so good what. The character change you show in the little clips is so good I can't even

Thank you!! Character development is my favorite to write. 

8 hours ago, The cheeseman said:

THAT'S AMAZING AHHHHH

THANKS AHHH!!!

8 hours ago, Weaver of Lights said:

That was amazing Eddie! I think it’s one of my favorite things you’ve written, and that’s saying a lot!

…woah, thank you very much! 

6 hours ago, The Aspiring Archivist said:

This is awesome, I like it a lot.

At least to me, it feels kind of like something that could have happened to my Death when he was new to his job.

Overall, it's very interesting and thought-provoking

It could, it could…poor lil Death. 

1 hour ago, Cash67 said:

Well now I’m gonna have emotions while I teach. That was gut punch after gut punch in the most wholesome way possible! 

If you cry, the kids will eat you alive and you can blame me

17 minutes ago, TheRavenHasLanded said:

... this will haunt me for an eternity. dammit...

Hooray! I’m glad!!

[ThroughTheLivingSequence she/her/they/them]

10 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS please read this I’m in love with it and I don’t know why.

Between:

  Hide contents

Annie sat at the edge of a cliff, kicking her feet contentedly. “Death?” She asked.

The tall figure standing at her shoulder stirred. “Yes?”

“What happens when I die?” 

Death blinked. “What do you mean?”

Annie turned to face him, brow furrowed. “When people die, you send them on to the next life. And I’m going to die eventually. So I’ll have to move on. And you’ll stay here.”

“Well…yes,” Death said. His voice was gravelly and hard to read, but Annie thought he sounded sad. She was good at telling how he felt. 

“Then I won’t die for a long while,” the girl said, standing up happily. “I have to go now. Bye, Death!” Then she was gone, back in the world of the living.

***

Annie was crying. Death hadn’t known it was possible for a mortal to cry here, but Annie had spent more time here than almost any other mortal. He wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out.

“Annie?” He tried to sound gentle. It didn’t work. Somehow, though, she got it. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

And though he had often been called heartless, something in his chest ached for the young girl. “You—you know I can’t, Annie.”

“Can’t I just stay here a little longer? Mom and Dad are screaming so loud, all the time. And it’s my fault. Maybe—maybe if I was gone, they’d be happier.” Annie looked up at him desperately. “I want them to be happy again.”

“No, no,” Death said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is,” she said firmly. “D-Dad told me so. He said that if I just had a normal heart, then we’d have enough money, and then Mom wouldn’t hate him, and-and-” she broke off, sniffling. 

Slowly, Death sat down next to her, resting his scythe on the ground. He put an arm around her, and she fell into him, her crying getting louder. For a long minute, they just sat. Death didn’t try to promise that it would be okay. He’d been around too long to believe that, and he hated lying. “Did you know,” he finally said, “that most people hate me?”

Annie pulled back, dumbfounded. “Why do people hate you? You’re nice!”

Death’s mouth twitched, and he gestured at his black robe, his scythe, his pale face. “I’m Death.”

“That’s not fair! It’s not your fault people die.”

“No,” he agreed, “it isn’t. But they hate me anyway. And they have normal hearts. If you had a normal heart, maybe you’d hate me too.” It wasn’t perfect logic, but it was pretty, and Annie was young.

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Then I’m glad I don’t have a normal heart. And I’m never going to hate anyone.”

Death smiled. “I’m sure the world is better with you in it, Annie.”

Tears dry, Annie nodded, eyes glistening with determination. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

***

“Did you know,” Annie said, “that my teacher doesn’t get mad at me anymore? It’s annoying.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Annie made a face, and Death laughed. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take what you can get.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it makes everyone else mad. Like, yesterday, I left my notebook at Dad’s house, and Mom wouldn’t let me go back to get it. And when I got into class, Mr. Flynn was yelling at Penny because she forgot her notebook. But he didn’t say anything to me, and now Penny hates me.”

“Ah.” Death nodded.

“But I don’t hate her,” Annie said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Tomorrow, I’m going to bring her cookies. She likes oatmeal raisin ones the best, even though they’re gross, so I’ll make those ones.”

Death looked over at her. “You’re very wise, for a mortal.”

She winked at him. “I have a good teacher.” Then she frowned. “What do you mean, for a mortal?!”

***

Annie felt her heart rate slow, and she lay back in the grass, closed her eyes…and opened them in a world with black earth and a white sky. A moment later, a face that was nearly a skull appeared over hers. “Hi, Death,” she said. 

“Hi, Annie,” he replied, mimicking her tone. 

She laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“I probably do,” she conceded. “How’s the Between?”

“Same as always,” Death murmured. “How’s living?” His mouth twitched into a gentle smirk. “How’s Jason?”

Annie sat up sharply, flushing and throwing a handful of deep black sand at him. “Shut up,” she said, but there was no malice in it. She paused. “He’s just as cute as he was yesterday.”

Death nodded somberly. “You’ve been here a lot, going by human time.”

“Every day,” Annie said. “Sometimes twice a day. The doctors say it’s getting worse.” Her lip trembled and she clenched her teeth, refusing to let the tears spill over. “We’ve been meeting with the school counselors, talking about career paths and colleges, that sort of thing. They—they told me not to bother choosing a college. They said not to even worry about taking required classes, just to enjoy the time I have left. No one even expects me to graduate high school, Death.”

Death sat next to her. “Hold on. You’re so strong, Annie. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

“Right,” Annie said sarcastically, “it’s not like being friends with Death himself gives me an advantage or anything.” 

Death shrugged. “Guilty as charged…except that I’m not keeping you alive. Or killing you. I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Death is my babysitter…” She was still laughing as she faded from view, as the sky became blue rather than white, and the sound of sirens filled her ears.

***

Annie spun on her heel, searching. “Death!” She screamed. “Where are you?”

And then he was there. “Yes? What’s wrong?” He looked her over, worried. “Annie?”

Her chest heaved. “Sarah is dying.”

Death looked away.

“How long?” Annie demanded. “How long does she have?”

Death looked pained. Funny, how she’d once thought him hard to read. “I can’t-”

“You can’t what?” Annie snapped. “Can’t save her? I know that, and that’s why I’m not asking you to.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to know how long my friend has. Please, Death.” Death looked down. His hood covered his face with shadows, and with his scythe in the air he suddenly looked poised. Ready to attack. Annie took a step back. “Please…” 

“I can’t tell you,” Death whispered. 

For a moment, Annie wanted to yell. Her hands were trembling, her heart was pounding too fast (or it would have been, if she wasn’t in the Between), and her eyes were stinging. She saw, then, why her friend was something so many people hated. And then she took a breath, a promise made long ago returning to her mind. 

“Okay,” she said, though the word broke her heart. “Okay. Can you—can you at least tell me if I’ll see her again?”

Death looked up, his hood falling back. “I’m not supposed to. But I will.” He locked eyes with Annie, then shook his head. “Not in your mortal life. I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

“Okay,” Annie said. “O-okay. I can-I can-“ and then her eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t fair,” she said. “I know that’s childish. But it just isn’t. She had so much to live for. She had a boyfriend, and plans, and-and why her, and not me?” Death watched her, listening intently. Annie flushed. “It’s just-my parents have been prepared for my death since I was four, and all my friends know that they’ll go to my funeral someday. But she could have lived.”

“I’m sorry,” Death said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I never realized it hurt so much.”

Annie’s cheeks were wet, and she scrubbed at them furiously. “It’s good that it hurts,” she said. “If it didn’t hurt, it would mean I didn’t care. But…” she exhaled softly. “How am I supposed to go on living without her?”

Death shook his head. Wordlessly, he pulled her into a hug and held her as she sobbed. “I can give her a message, if you’d like,” he finally murmured. “Nothing long. But something.”

“Oh, please,” Annie said, throat tightening dangerously. “Tell her—tell her bye. Tell her I’ll miss her so, so much. And tell her that I’ll make sure Peli, her dog, gets fed. And that I love her.” Annie was fading, but she clutched desperately at Death. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

***

“You’re quiet today.” Death smiled at his friend. “Is everything all right?”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah…can I ask you something, Death?”

“Of course,” Death said easily. “I can’t promise an answer, but you can always ask.”

“Right.” Annie looked over at him, and for a moment the only sound was the crunch of sand beneath their feet. “You…you know that I’m not really walking, out there. Or, well, doing anything.” Death nodded. “Well…I used to sing, but I haven’t even been able to do that, recently. So I started writing. And I think I wrote a poem about you?”

Death blinked. “You think?”

Annie shrugged. “I’m not really sure. But I wrote it, and my mom saw it. She wants me to enter it to some contest, to ‘put my words into the world one last time’ or whatever. But…I want you to hear it. Because it’s for you, really, not the world.”

“Okay,” Death said.

“Okay.” Annie smiled shyly, and Death smiled back. 

 

“I am lost

To the world

That should have been mine. 

I am a frequent visitor

In a place

Between the living and the dead.

 

My mother fears Death,

My friends crave it. 

My teachers don’t speak of it,

And my enemies use it as a taunt. 

 

But the world of life twists,

And turns,

And changes

Every time I dare to blink.

 

And when even my heart is inconsistent,

Death is a constant. 

Not looming. 

Not waiting. 

But welcoming. 

In a world of extremes,

I have found a home Between.

 

And when I come home,

It is Death who greets me.”

 

Annie looked at him, and Death found himself momentarily speechless. But just as he opened his mouth, Annie faded away, and Death was left alone in a colorless world. 

***

Annie brushed sand from her clothes, standing up. “That was unpleasant,” she muttered. She looked around, and jumped when she saw Death behind her. “Oh my-Death! Don’t do that, it’s terrifying.” But Death didn’t laugh, and she frowned. “Death?”

“This is it.” He spoke so quietly, she could barely hear him. Still, the words filled her with a creeping, icy dread. “It’s time, Annie.” Annie didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. “I’ve never tried to save a mortal’s life before. But I tried, Annie, I swear to you I tried.”

“I know,” Annie whispered. She wasn’t crying. How strange. Shouldn’t she be feeling something? She was about to die. “But we both knew it was only a matter of time. We called this place the Between for a reason.”

Death nodded. “But I hoped…”

“Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Annie leaned up and gave Death a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for all of it. Whatever comes next, I’ll miss you.”

And for the first time he could remember, Death felt his eyes grow wet. “Remember,” he said, voice husky, “when you told me that hurt is good? Because it means that you care?” Annie nodded. “This hurts,” he whispered.

“Oh, Death…” Annie gave his hand a final squeeze, and then, one last time, she faded from the Between. Death reached for her, but she was gone.

And this time, she would never come back.

  Hide contents

This was the prompt, I’m curious did it make sense without the context?

Death's favourite human comes to visit. The young girl has a medical condition where her heart stops for a few minutes every once in awhile. Death is the girl's favourite friend.

Also sorry it’s had exactly zero editing, I finished it maybe 10 minutes ago  

I’ll probably rewrite the poem since I don’t love it, but I really like the rest of it

 

Oh my goodness I love this-

THAT WAS SO GOOD OMG

Your writing truly is something else. This.. I don't have words. I'm not very good at words, but this was like
Creative, in all the best ways
Heartfelt, pulls at your heartstrings
Oh geez what else..
It kind of reminded me of the Webtoon comic Loving Reaper, giving Death a face and a personality and such, and I thought it was lovely.

Sorry if this was unintelligible lol

Please keep writing, you're genuinely going places.

[Edema Rue she/her]

1 hour ago, Sequence said:

Oh my goodness I love this-

THAT WAS SO GOOD OMG

Your writing truly is something else. This.. I don't have words. I'm not very good at words, but this was like
Creative, in all the best ways
Heartfelt, pulls at your heartstrings
Oh geez what else..
It kind of reminded me of the Webtoon comic Loving Reaper, giving Death a face and a personality and such, and I thought it was lovely.

Sorry if this was unintelligible lol

Please keep writing, you're genuinely going places.

Aww thank you so much