posted on Feb, 7 2006 @ 06:52 PM
I started a story for the last writing contest and just as i got it going I ran right square into a brick wall. I couldn't figure out where I wanted
to go with it. Maybe a few of my fellow writers can give some direction or even finish the story if you want.
It's become apparent I won't be doing anything else with it. Feel free to collaborate my friends.
The Reapers Love.
From the upper corner of the hospital suite he could hear the approaching footsteps of his target. Young Dr. Jackson was about to meet the love of
his life and Cupid was there to make it happen. Propped up in bed sat the lovely young grad student, equally unaware of the events about to unfold.
Cupid thought he had the best job in the world. Dispensing happiness to the entire world in the form of love, He had no doubt he was doing what the
very creator would not. On this day he had selected his finest and strongest love arrow to insure a lifelong bond. First he’d take care of the good
doctor and then a second arrow into his soon to be wife. Life didn’t get any sweeter than this.
As the doctor approached he loaded his weapon of love and drew aim at the door. The doctor appeared, Cupid let fly his arrow, the doctor stumbled and
the arrow flew past him.
“SON-OF-A-BIT…” Came a scream from the far room.
Cupid’s heart had never ever felt cold, but now it did. A trembling went thru his body as he realized what had just happened. He knew that
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Death stood outside the room of the hospital suite, he had a moment to catch his breathe before entering. His was a busy job but quite satisfying. He
had long ago come to terms with what he was tasked to do. Though the soul is eternal the moments of life are brief, and for the one in the room they
had come to pass. With the respite now gone he entered the room.
Pain shot from his lower back as the hot edge of a knife pierced him thru his pelvic bone. He cried out, but did not hear the words as he danced
wildly and grabbed at the weapon that had been plunged into him. It was not a knife but a shaft he felt and as he touched it, it melted away. Having
fallen across the bed of his intended soul he slowly raised himself and looked upon her.
Her beauty shook him; surely no more graceful creature had ever been crafted in the forge of God. Her skin was satin and she smelled as angels smell
when they’ve returned from the very hall of the divine. Warmth spread across his body as he felt the need to draw her near and comfort the pain that
had been her life. To take that pain away forever and give her the life she deserved, this was his one desire.
“Excuse me?” Cupid was looking over the top of the open door, hovering for a quick escape in case Death was really mad about what had just
happened. “I just wanted to apologize.” He went on.
Death did not hear him. He took the hand of the woman lying in the bed and began to speak, “There is an ancient poem of hope, it has been said that
it can heal the mortally wounded and renew their life. I shall recite it for you now my love.”
Cupid placed his hand upon his forehead and muttered, “Oh #.”
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Hattie Johnson was 92 years old and had come to the end of her life. It had been a long and fruitful life but now that it was over she was grateful.
She was prepared to pass quietly to the other side and had made peace with her creator.
The bed shook violently for a moment and she awoke. Death was leaning across the bed and had taken her hand. She closed her eyes and prepared for the
journey to the other side. It sounded as though Death were whispering a prayer and that comforted her even more. It was a fitting touch to the end of
It was suddenly very odd, the thought of dying. If she didn’t know better Hattie would have swore she was actually growing stronger.