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Literature Text
I met death at the end of the tunnel, smoking a cigarette and watching the stars. He was an attractive prospect, all garbed in a neat black suit, bright blue eyes full of something, something I liked.
Death knew me by name, and death knew I wasn't in any hurry. We sat on the bench, smoking cigarettes and watching the stars.
'I suppose,' I said finally, 'There's no way I'm getting out of this one?'
We talked about the world, the planets, the solar system and universe. We talked about art, music and theatre. We talked about romance, about lovers and other emotions that robbed us of our sanity. I confessed to Death that I knew little of the troubles faced by lovers, and once the words passed my lips he fell silent.
He asked me to look at him, and I did so. I studied the features in his face, perfect and beautiful. I wanted to sit with Death for eternity. He asked me to think of all the things I hadn't done. The romance ahead of me, the art, music, theatre... The things I loved that I would miss; the things I would never see that I could love.
I thought, and I struggled, and as I watched his face became sharper, his expression cruel. His eyes were no longer beautiful, but had swollen and bloodshot. His nose was crooked, as if it had once been broken and never healed in the right circumstance. His shoulders, which had been strong and curved had shot up into points, tearing through the dinner jacket.
His hair, which had originally been thick and black, was thinning out and falling like ash. His fingers stretched into vile claws, the nails longer than the width of my head. I recoiled and fell from the bench, scuttling backwards on the grass. The smell of rot surrounded him as his skin began to change its colour. Through the pale skin green veins knotted and swelled. I fought with the urge to wretch. Death’s new face was foul.
‘Stay away from me!’ I pleaded, throwing anything I could find at the being as I crawled backwards.
I vowed that never again would I meet death at the end of the tunnel.
Death knew me by name, and death knew I wasn't in any hurry. We sat on the bench, smoking cigarettes and watching the stars.
'I suppose,' I said finally, 'There's no way I'm getting out of this one?'
We talked about the world, the planets, the solar system and universe. We talked about art, music and theatre. We talked about romance, about lovers and other emotions that robbed us of our sanity. I confessed to Death that I knew little of the troubles faced by lovers, and once the words passed my lips he fell silent.
He asked me to look at him, and I did so. I studied the features in his face, perfect and beautiful. I wanted to sit with Death for eternity. He asked me to think of all the things I hadn't done. The romance ahead of me, the art, music, theatre... The things I loved that I would miss; the things I would never see that I could love.
I thought, and I struggled, and as I watched his face became sharper, his expression cruel. His eyes were no longer beautiful, but had swollen and bloodshot. His nose was crooked, as if it had once been broken and never healed in the right circumstance. His shoulders, which had been strong and curved had shot up into points, tearing through the dinner jacket.
His hair, which had originally been thick and black, was thinning out and falling like ash. His fingers stretched into vile claws, the nails longer than the width of my head. I recoiled and fell from the bench, scuttling backwards on the grass. The smell of rot surrounded him as his skin began to change its colour. Through the pale skin green veins knotted and swelled. I fought with the urge to wretch. Death’s new face was foul.
‘Stay away from me!’ I pleaded, throwing anything I could find at the being as I crawled backwards.
I vowed that never again would I meet death at the end of the tunnel.
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Okay... so I don't know... this was supposed to be about a teen who wanted to commit suicide, but changed their mind when they realised that they hadn't really lived yet.
It also fits with a person who is using drugs (their regular meetings with death at the end of the tunnel).
Interperet how you will, but let me know how :] I want to know what you think about my stuff in general :]
I know the narration is more female, but I tried to make it sexless... Don't think it worked
Just short, don't dwell too much on it :]
It also fits with a person who is using drugs (their regular meetings with death at the end of the tunnel).
Interperet how you will, but let me know how :] I want to know what you think about my stuff in general :]
I know the narration is more female, but I tried to make it sexless... Don't think it worked
Just short, don't dwell too much on it :]
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Comments17
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yeah, it feels a bit more like female to me, but maybe that's just a female thing 
i find it very interesting, i'd never think that Death would change into something horrible since I got used to him being rather nice like in Terry Pratchett's Discwolrd series. He even has blue eyes there also, though he is a skeleton over there. I really like the message of the piece. And the way you write.
i find it very interesting, i'd never think that Death would change into something horrible since I got used to him being rather nice like in Terry Pratchett's Discwolrd series. He even has blue eyes there also, though he is a skeleton over there. I really like the message of the piece. And the way you write.