Trifecta had a fun prompt this week:
DEATH
1a : a permanent cessation of all vital functions : the end of life
b : an instance of dying <a disease causing many deaths>
2a : the cause or occasion of loss of life <drinking was the death of him>
b : a cause of ruin <the slander that was death to my character — Wilkie Collins>
3 capitalized : the destroyer of life represented usually as a skeleton with a scythe
Mwahahaha. Have fun.
Please remember:
- Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
- You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
- The word itself needs to be included in your response.
- You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
- Only one entry per writer.
The first part of this story started with a response to a Write on Edge prompt that can be found here.
Please enjoy!
Jonathan blinked and found himself standing in a bizarre
cave. The walls seemed to shift and bend
in ways he couldn’t quite follow. The
longer he stared at them the worse it got.
“So. You’re the next
lucky contestant,” a bass voice echoed out of the darkness.
“Who’s there?” Jonathan spun around several times.
“You need to pay back your sins, right? The Grim Reaper sent you here?” the rock
grinding voice came from a different direction.
“How do you know what’s going on? I’m crazy, I know it.”
“No. You’re dead. I should know.”
“What?”
A sigh sounding more like a gentle earthquake filled the
M.C. Escher-esque cavern, “I hate repeating myself. You’re dead.
I know this because I’m Death. I
decide who lives and dies and when.”
“Isn’t that the Grim Reaper’s job?” Jonathan scratched his
head.
“No. Common
misconception. He harvests souls. I deal in lives.”
Jonathan whimpered.
“He sent you to me to give you one chance to fix your
wrongs, right?”
“I guess,” Jonathan’s voice quavered a little on the second
word.
“Well, then. Back you
go. You have thirty-three years to fix your
screw-ups. If you don’t, I have to come
get you again. But, remember. You’re not really alive again. And if you try to tell anyone about what’s
going on, they won’t believe you.”
“No kidding,” Jonathan mumbled under his breath before
answering aloud, “How do I fix my screw-ups?”
“Do I look like your counselor? I’m not, just in case you missed it.”
The cave filled with black mist. The walls began to move and twist even
more. As his consciousness faded
Jonathan heard one last thing from the voice calling itself Death.
“This outcome determines whether you make it into paradise
or not. Remember that as well,” then
softer, “I hate it when the Grim Reaper does this to me. I go through the effort to kill someone and
he turns around and undoes it on me the minute my back is turned.”
