Saleon wrote:The AppName: Death
Mythos: Psycho-emotional- existing as an emotional and psychical entity. Death exists, almost perennially, as a psychical manifestation of a deeper anxiety. In this sense, she has always existed, at least since creatures and gods began to realize their own existence and the possibility of its end.
Powers / Abilities / Domains / Gear:
- Life energy- Death carries humans to whatever afterlife they are given. Seemingly, this has to do with whatever pantheon they worship. Her control over life and death comes in the form of a soul-rending scythe and the ability to become a conduit of pure energy. This energy is similar to that of that which gives humans life.
- Transigence- Death does not have a necessarily physical body. Often, her body may pass through physical objects or people. This seems to be in her control. She communes, often, in the realm of spirits. Humans may see her, but only when a person is close to, or has met, their end (or the end of someone close to them). At times, her body may feel light as air or in some sense defy gravity.
Age: looks to be roughly 21
Mythical Origin: “Death has always been a constant of life for both humans and all creatures; even gods. She is probably best described as the psychoemotional manifestation of one's anxiety and rationalization over the finality of one's life. This is something that gods, as well as humans, contemplate. Humans worship gods: when gods are forgotten, they have essentially died. This is why gods, like humans, seem to fear and despise death.”
--
The doorbell rings at a lone house in Britain. The large mansion was home to a lord, young and still quite in his prime. There were guests, all from the family, totaling eight adults and one child.
The door opens, wind howling as a young seeming girl wearing torn jeans and a punk shirt. She seemed to be slightly pale, with a motorcycle stationed at the side of the mansion. She walks in, uninvited. The young lady pulls out what looks like a pocket switchblade, causing a slight stir, and begins to unfold it, a small bit the size of the switchblade at a time, before it becomes a crooked scythe with a slightly fancy handle.
The sunlight glittered over the mansion of the Newchurch family. The day was peaceful on the outside, quiet and unmoving. Constant. Nothing unfortunate was supposed to happen on a day like this. However, the family could not be aware of the events that lay ahead.
Winston Newchurch, the patriarch of the family, alongside his wife Elizabeth, was excellent at hosting dinner-parties. Their two adult children, Rosette and Percival, were also pleasant house-guests. Aunt Lucy and her husband Raymond were reserved, but always enjoyed good food and company. Their eldest son, Norman, was handsome and bright, and capable of sparkling conversation with his cousins and uncle. The only person who seemed adverse to parties was 6-year-old Anneliese, the youngest daughter of Winston and Elizabeth. While everyone else greeted each other and gave happy smiles, she sat on the couch with a distant look on her face. Only she seemed aware that something was amiss, amid all the warm welcomes and the bustling of servants cleaning the house around her.
The party began and progressed slowly and smoothly, like a creek on a calm summer day. The maids and butlers brought various teas for everyone to try, and many rich, warm, and fruity pastries. The sweet appetizers for what would be a savory meal. Winston asked Norman how his education at Cambridge was progressing. Elizabeth and Lucy gossiped about some of their neighbors. Raymond spoke to his nieces and his nephew, trying to cajole the little one into talking to the family. He also teased Rosette about her boyfriend, Jean, who was overseas with his own father in Dubai. Indeed, none of this conversation interested Anneliese, who clung to her teddy bear and hardly touched a pastry.
Finally, dinner came. A rich, glistening duck, cooked to a browned perfection and covered in a buttery glaze. Sided with a fresh cabbage salad and a creamy soup, everyone was delighted by the melody of scents and flavors. Everyone ate and chat merrily.
Then...she entered.
For the first time, Anneliese looked up from the table. She held her teddy tight, while Winston immediately rose as he saw the girl draw a knife. “Halt! State your purpose, and do not draw near! Not another step, or I will get my rifle, young lady!” he warned.
Aunt Lucy had to huddle away, as she was nearly hysterical upon seeing the switchblade become a scythe. Her husband wrapped his arms around her protectively, while Norman grasped his knife like a blade. Rosette held Anneliese close to her, though the latter child was unafraid. Percival was almost as afraid as Rosette, and stood close to his older sister.
”Well? Speak!” Winston repeated.
"Hellooo," The strange girl says, yawning as they pull out weapons. She pulls out a piece of crumpled up paper, "I'm death. I'm hear to collect one of your souls. One of you is well past overdue. Please understand, this is proper procedure."
”You will do no such thing! Elizabeth, call the police immediately. I will get the rifle. Rosette, bring Anneliese away from here.”
As Winston gave orders, Anneliese shook her head, as though she knew she did not want to leave.
”Annie we have to go! Please, it’s for your safety! Annie!”
Rosette begged her sister to come, pulling her tiny arm as she spoke. The little girl eyed Death without blinking.
Meanwhile, Winston grabbed his gun from the glass cabinet near the front of the dining room. Only a few feet away from the girl, he aimed his rifle in death’s face. Aunt Lucy still continued to shriek in the background.
"You best make sure the little girls leave the room. I feel we shouldn't let them watch any of this," Death says, looking at the gun. She puts her finger in it. For some reason, the phone lines seem to be failing. All that you hear is static. She looks at Winston, "I wish there was an easier way for you people to believe me..."
”Annie, please, the lady said for us to go, we must go!” Rosette pulled her sister along, finally deciding to lift her into her arms and to whisk her away. Percival followed, while Norman remained with his parents, determined to protect his mother and father.
”Winston dear, the phone is not working!” Elizabeth called.
”What?!...But we have wireless connection, and the house-phones work perfectly fine!...I don’t understand! What have you done?!” Winston immediately understood that Death had to be the cause.
The doors of the building seem locked shut, leaving it impossible for anyone to escape the mansion. The grave for one person. Death was busy chewing some gum, "try and shoot me and find out."
Winston had never actually shot an intruder, but now he had to do so. He hoped that he would be able to protect his family, now when he was needed more than ever. Gritting his teeth and ignoring Aunt Lucy’s yelps, he fired the gun in Death’s face.
Death recoiled a bit, her back seeming to crack as if it had broken. She pulls out a handkerchief and then cleans the gunpowder and casing from her face, "now to reiterate. I am Death. The literal Grim Reaper. Or whatever else you have decided to call me. Can we just get to the bargaining or the games or whatever you guys want to do here?"
Everyone got silent as the gunshot had absolutely no effect on this woman. Even Aunt Lucy got silent. They had no choice but to believe her. Norman lowered his knife, knowing he could do nothing against this woman.
Elizabeth bravely stepped forward, and inquired, “...Wh-What is it exactly that you want?...”
"Lady, I was quite clear about this. One of you has died. I am here to collect you. It is more a simple process, really. We literally just walk in a direction for a bit. Or something. Really, I have a lot of time before my next job, so... we can talk this out if you want."
Elizabeth looked around the room. Everyone in the room seemed to still be alive. She looked to her husband. He was confused as well. The couple turned back to her. “...Who?...We are all alive here...”
Death adjusts her glasses. She drinks some coffee, "I know at least two or three of you know that isn't true."
”...This absurd game shall end! Tell us who you are here for now! I will not stand for this much longer!” Winston ordered.
Death looks at her docket, "Uuuuuh. What are your names, exactly?" She sizes up the family.
Winston looked around at his family. “...I am Winston Newchurch. My wife is Elizabeth. My brother Raymond and his wife Lucy...and their son, my nephew, Norman. My children upstairs are Rosette, Percival, and Anneliese.”
"Right, Lucy. That was it. I had wrote it down but I was pretty poor with my letters, so it was hard to read," Death says, looking at them.
Raymond gasped, and looked toward his wife. She was as shocked as he was, if not more so. Her face became a solid white, like plaster. She felt suffocated, and trapped. She was not ready to die, and she shook her head repeatedly. “No. No, please...no...my son...my son, he needs me...” she whispered, breathless.
Norman still managed to remain calm, though his anger slipped through as he spoke. “Is this some kind of cruel joke? What are you trying to do?”
Death sighed, "Look, one of you knew this would happen. Either way, I don't make up the rules. She is dead. A few hours ago, to be honest."
”...This is madness! I brought her here today! She couldn’t possibly be dead!” Raymond interjected, angrily.
“My mom is fine! She went to the doctor yesterday and everything was well!” Norman added.
Aunt Lucy, however, did not give the same response. She felt lightheaded...and light everything-else. Weightless. Ungrounded. She rubbed her temple and stared at Death. “...I...I only took a nap this morning...I was fine indeed. I just...felt sleepy...but I woke when it was time to get ready!...How is this possible?...I’ve been eating and drinking with everyone else!”
Death sighed, "look. I understand it may not be happy to have her leave, but I already know what happens when I start making exceptions."
She passed by the room, walking through Raymond. Her body had both a corporeal and incorporeal quality. She simply walked through him like smoke.
”This cannot be true! I am fine! Look at me!” Aunt Lucy stood in defiance, but as she did so she stared at her hand. The sunlight from the window glowed through it, and she could see Death behind her hand. Raymond and Norman only looked at her with fear as she backed away...and passed into the table, like a ghost.
Death gave a slight annoyed 'tch'. She looks on at her, "accept it. There is a time of passing for everyone.”
Norman and Raymond looked at Aunt Lucy with shock and horror. She truly was a ghost. Winston continued to glare toward Death, while Elizabeth rushed to see Aunt Lucy.
Yet the panic for the ghost slowly evaporated. Slowly, surely, all became clear to her. She had appeared to be fine, she had gotten up and dressed, and she had left with Raymond and Norman...and nobody had checked the room to see her dead body. This had been...three hours ago?...Aunt Lucy wanted to shiver, but she felt no pain. No hurt. Her soul was beginning to relax.
”...Mom is...she can’t be dead! She can’t be! Please, you don’t have to do this! What did she die of?! It doesn’t make sense!” Norman shouted.
"This was going to happen sooner rather than later," Death says, looking to Norman. She flicks him in the forehead, "what do you expect me to do; bring her back to life?"
”Yes, please! Please, I’ll do anything!” he shouted. Yet he kept looking back to his mother. She was free. She did not want to come back. Yet he still fought anyway. “Please, I’m not ready to lose her!”
"Oh, what was that weird phrase you people came up with? If you love something, you got get rid of it?" Death says, "Do you know the ramifications if I just don't reap anyone for even a day? Souls anguish. They scream. They grow angry and resentful. Then, they become jealous of what they lost. Your body. Is that what you want her to experience?"
“Then put her back in her body! She was perfectly healthy and it is not her time!” Elizabeth demanded softly. She reached toward Aunt Lucy, but the latter did not seem to notice her. “...Lucy?...”
“The phrase is ‘if you love something you let it go, not get rid of it!” Norman shouted.
"She was not healthy. She was as in denial as you all are," Death says, looking at Elizabeth. She then gets an earful from Norman about what the phrase actually was, "ah. That does sound better, yes."
Norman paused for a moment as he realized what he had just said. His eyes began to fill with tears, and a lump formed in his throat. He was powerless, unable to stop the turn of events. He forced himself to remain standing, and turned to his mother. “...Mom?...Please, mom, come back...I’ll...I’ll do anything you want!”
She did not seem to completely hear him. She saw him, and gave him a smile full of motherly love. But she was clearly gone.
”...Mom...please...”
Death patted him on the head, "Listen kid. It happens for everyone. It hurts now, but was all of her time with you hurtful?" She pulled out a small hourglass, checking the time. Her other hand gripped her scythe.
”...No...no of course not...but...but I want her to be...I want her to be here...we were all...so happy together...” He turned to his father, who was still in shock, and he began to sob. Elizabeth began to sob next to him.
"Oh gods, I never know what to do in these moments..." Death says, looking at the family. She offers her hand to Lucy, "you got any idea how to deal with this?"
Lucy was ready to leave. She gave hugs to her family, though they could not feel her touch. Her face was full of peace, and she kissed her husband on the lips. He was still too stunned to feel her.
Death began walking outwards, the house opening as wind seemed to sweep away her presence. She walked Lucy, getting on her motorcycle, "some people still think I ride a literal horse."
"No...no please...don't..." Raymond finally spoke, but he himself sounded like a ghost. Defeated, beaten, exhausted from the last ten minutes of existence. He almost seemed like he wanted to die and to go with his wife. Yet this was not to be.
Aunt Lucy moved away from him, and away from her family, and she walked toward the motorcycle. She stared at the girl, as though she knew Death would lead her out of the mansion and into the afterlife.
Death looked back for a second, staring at the door, Raymond screaming for a second, "Live for her, dumb@#$. She loved you, you greedy bas#$*d. Cherish her memories." She looks back, "oh, by the way. What religion were you again? Wicca? Buddhist? I rarely keep track, but we best figure out which afterlife we are talking. The gods get pissed if there is a mix-up."
"...Anglican," Aunt Lucy answered, gently.
"Ah, that is a weird one," Death says, "I remember once where the afterlife involved Jesus being a woman. Like, she was kinda hot. I usually don't date too much, but she seemed nice."
Aunt Lucy was confused by Death's statement, but nevertheless she climbed onto the back of the motorcycle and looked ahead. She was ready to enjoy the afterlife. Her life had been full of suffering, which she had hid from her son and her husband until the end. She looked back one last time, as though she wanted her gaze to comfort her husband.
Yet Raymond himself seemed completely gone. Norman shook his shoulders, telling him to look in her direction, but he seemed dead. His skin was still warm, but inside he was hollow. No amount of shouting and crying could reach him right now.
"...How...how did we not see...how...oh, poor Lucy...poor Lucy, her body!" Elizabeth wept, holding onto her husband as she cried.
Winston was in shock himself, but in a different way. Death had merely come and swooped someone out of his midst without his knowledge. He was used to knowing everything and to being able to help everyone. Now he was unable to save Lucy from her fate. She had died without anyone knowing, alone, and in her sleep. He shivered. "...Lucy...we're so sorry...we're so sorry..." he whispered, as he held his wife close. He shed no tears, but his sorrow was painfully evident.
with help from LumiAppearanceImageImageFavorite Subject: Philosophy and the Social Sciences (Anthropology, Sociology)
Likes - Humanity
- Girlz
- Motorcycles
- Discussions on the meaning of life
- Monty Python
- Coffee
- Spicy Foods
- Rock
- Rebellious types
- Competitive games and gambling.
Dislikes - Working too hard
- Violence
- Tampering with the nature of life and death (a common theme for gods)
- Losing games
- Cheaters
Theme Song:
We’re all Gonna Die