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31_days2007-05-19 10:44 pm
2tiffanyway.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-05-19 10:44 pm
[5/19/07] [Original] Death and the Maiden
Title: Death and the Maiden
Day/Theme: May 19: der Tod und das Mädchen
Series: Original fiction
Character/Pairing: Death and Molly Brown
Rating: PG
Note: Copyright 2007 Grace Singer
She had met him on several occasions.
He was much taller when she was younger. Her head barely touched his knees the first time. She tottered and stepped awkwardly towards him, reaching out her fingers to run through the tattered rags that hung on his skeletal frame. Her tiny fingers were supposed to slide through the broken outlet cover and fill her tiny body with a deadly electrical surge. That's why he'd gone to her. He'd received the slate with her name on it that very hour and had come to retrieve her fresh, young soul.
The problem was that Molly Brown could see him. She was giggling and running to see just what was under that dark hood hiding his hellish face. She stood below him, her hands clapping cheerfully as she stared up into the obsidian depths of his cloak. So endeared he'd been that he shooed her away from the faulty outlet that was supposed to be her doom.
It was three more years before he returned and she stood at his hipbone. She cocked her attitude and her hip at the strange apparition in her bedroom. "You can't scare me," she said over loudly. He expected a tremor of fear, but Molly Brown, named so because her parents knew at birth she was unsinkable, was not the sort to shiver at apparitions or impending doom. Again he made certain that she stood clear of the tree that smashed through her bedroom roof as the heavy wind knocked it out of her backyard. The lightning crackled in the air as she stared him down, intrigued that he would save her when his very purpose was to claim life.
Several more years passed before Molly would meet him again. She'd grown very much, up to his shoulder with long hair that matched her last name. She was pretty, though plain, clean of feature. Her eyes were darker than he remembered, a little troubled perhaps by the usual trauma of youth and the young adult. She smiled to him. "Will you take me this time?" she asked softly. Had he lips to smile back he would have done so. He reached out his arm and pointed behind her. A bottle of pills sat on her bed stand, open though otherwise untouched. He shook his head slowly. Not yet Molly Brown. I am not ready for you yet.
Molly was never certain how she made it through that night, though his specter stood quietly in the corner until he was sure she would sleep without a stomach full of pills. Looking back it had been his kindness that saved her, unexpected, unaware. The next time her met her was the last he would find her. Standing across the road in the brightest sunlight of day. He was so clear and she was so anxious to see him again. Without thinking she crossed the road before the light changed in her favor.
He looked down on her, the infinite darkness hidden under his cloak seemed twice as black in the burning sun. Her back on the pavement and a sticky puddle spreading out underneath her, she stared up at him in wonder. "I've missed you," she whispered, her last words sounding nonsensical to the small crowd that had gathered. However the intended had heard and it was sweet that she had wasted her breath on such sentiment. He reached down, grasping gently her fleshy hand with his bony one. He pulled lightly and her soul freed itself from her body.
It was such a strange sensation, the first in a string of many that Molly Brown would learn to adjust to. He held her hand all the way as they walked towards the shivering curtain that separated this world from the next. "Are you ready?" he whispered, his voice thin and high like icicles about to drop onto the pavement and crack into a thousand shards.
Her ethereal hand squeezed his, surprised to find substance there in death. She nodded, biting her lip. Yeah. Let's go home.
Day/Theme: May 19: der Tod und das Mädchen
Series: Original fiction
Character/Pairing: Death and Molly Brown
Rating: PG
Note: Copyright 2007 Grace Singer
She had met him on several occasions.
He was much taller when she was younger. Her head barely touched his knees the first time. She tottered and stepped awkwardly towards him, reaching out her fingers to run through the tattered rags that hung on his skeletal frame. Her tiny fingers were supposed to slide through the broken outlet cover and fill her tiny body with a deadly electrical surge. That's why he'd gone to her. He'd received the slate with her name on it that very hour and had come to retrieve her fresh, young soul.
The problem was that Molly Brown could see him. She was giggling and running to see just what was under that dark hood hiding his hellish face. She stood below him, her hands clapping cheerfully as she stared up into the obsidian depths of his cloak. So endeared he'd been that he shooed her away from the faulty outlet that was supposed to be her doom.
It was three more years before he returned and she stood at his hipbone. She cocked her attitude and her hip at the strange apparition in her bedroom. "You can't scare me," she said over loudly. He expected a tremor of fear, but Molly Brown, named so because her parents knew at birth she was unsinkable, was not the sort to shiver at apparitions or impending doom. Again he made certain that she stood clear of the tree that smashed through her bedroom roof as the heavy wind knocked it out of her backyard. The lightning crackled in the air as she stared him down, intrigued that he would save her when his very purpose was to claim life.
Several more years passed before Molly would meet him again. She'd grown very much, up to his shoulder with long hair that matched her last name. She was pretty, though plain, clean of feature. Her eyes were darker than he remembered, a little troubled perhaps by the usual trauma of youth and the young adult. She smiled to him. "Will you take me this time?" she asked softly. Had he lips to smile back he would have done so. He reached out his arm and pointed behind her. A bottle of pills sat on her bed stand, open though otherwise untouched. He shook his head slowly. Not yet Molly Brown. I am not ready for you yet.
Molly was never certain how she made it through that night, though his specter stood quietly in the corner until he was sure she would sleep without a stomach full of pills. Looking back it had been his kindness that saved her, unexpected, unaware. The next time her met her was the last he would find her. Standing across the road in the brightest sunlight of day. He was so clear and she was so anxious to see him again. Without thinking she crossed the road before the light changed in her favor.
He looked down on her, the infinite darkness hidden under his cloak seemed twice as black in the burning sun. Her back on the pavement and a sticky puddle spreading out underneath her, she stared up at him in wonder. "I've missed you," she whispered, her last words sounding nonsensical to the small crowd that had gathered. However the intended had heard and it was sweet that she had wasted her breath on such sentiment. He reached down, grasping gently her fleshy hand with his bony one. He pulled lightly and her soul freed itself from her body.
It was such a strange sensation, the first in a string of many that Molly Brown would learn to adjust to. He held her hand all the way as they walked towards the shivering curtain that separated this world from the next. "Are you ready?" he whispered, his voice thin and high like icicles about to drop onto the pavement and crack into a thousand shards.
Her ethereal hand squeezed his, surprised to find substance there in death. She nodded, biting her lip. Yeah. Let's go home.