Fan Fiction ❯ Twilight deaths ❯ One-Shot

The story of the Twilight Deaths is quite a long prose, but for the sake of the readers, I have shortened it considerably. The people in this story are entirely fictional? Oh, contraire. These people are too real for you to believe! So try not to believe in them if you don't want the pain of detachment when they all die and you, my friend, are heartbroken. Believe them only if you will swear to me that you will not grow attached.

 

This story begins with the opening of not the main character. No. There is no main character in this story. It begins with a tiny creature, such a tiny creature she is. Annabelle the fairy. A fairy, I say. And such a timid name for such a timid creature.

 

You see, Annabelle has no friends.

 

Oh, feel the pity. Poor, poor, Annabelle. No one will talk to poor Annabelle. She's much to shy to answer anyway. But her loneliness got the best of her.

 

And on a night that no one remembers, Annabelle took the knife and plunged it through her heart.

 

The next morning, no one knew where Annabelle was, nor did they care. Poor, poor, Annabelle.

 

As Annabelle was to descend, the dark vines of shadows grabbed her ankles, keeping her from heaven. Those horrendous vines! God damn them!

 

Annabelle was to be a guardian angel. Much like myself. But I am one of the worst there is.

 

I am a shinigami, a Guardian of Death, a Soul Reaper.

 

You see, all guardian angels have a tattoo somewhere on their body. This tattoo has two S's, standing for Soul Sender. She placed hers on her ankle. I have one on my wrists, on my ankles, and around my neck. But then again, I am one of the worst Soul Senders.

 

I am not a guardian, I am a murderer.

 

 

Our next two characters I am to introduce are very good friends. Charlie and Francis. Charlie is nothing but a good man. Francis is a family man. Charlie has nothing but the clothes on his back. Francis has everything. Yet both are the greatest of friends.

 

It was too unfortunate when someone came up behind Charlie and murdered him in cold blood in the middle of the night.

 

Charlie was also to become a Soul Reaper with Annabelle, but oh, poor Francis. His friend was gone. And the worst thing was, Charlie's useless bloody body was left in Francis' living room. The murderer had snuck into his house and left him there with no traces of himself.

 

Now, Francis being a father of 7 children, had to keep them safe by all means necessary. And when the police came to his house, in a moment of madness, shot them in the face with a rifle. He then had the community SWAT team to deal with. They brought in a tank, for some odd reason. And for another odd reason, they put it into reverse. And in its uncontrollability, it crushed Francis, his children, his wife, and their beautiful home all at once.

 

And in the sky, Charlie, Francis, the children, and Mrs. Francis all rejoiced, for they had their family friend back. Francis had his tattoo placed on his shin, and all the children, being around 5 to 10, wanted to be just like their wonderful father. With tattoos on their legs they flew away with Charlie and Annabelle with pure white wings.

 

Oh, me? No. My wings are black with misery.

 

 

Our last characters, named Benny-Jen and L, short for Landry, were only strangers. And it was fate they met at the last second.

 

L was just a homeless boy. Homeless and orphaned, the poor boy. And he had decided that he would live in the run down Fun-Land, an empty theme park from the 80's. And he would run and play on all the broken metal rides and dirtied forgotten attractions. He had such a happy life.

 

Benny-Jen was gay. Gay, but rich. He was only 12. 12, gay, but rich. He was thrown out of his house by his parents when they found out his disgustingly sinful thoughts. He had run away to the theme park where L lived.

 

The boys had met and instantly became friends. Poor L was so uneducated, he could barely talk. So it was then brought upon Benny-Jen to teach Landry.

 

He had many children books. All of them were for L. And L would read and read like there was no tomorrow! And one day, without his realization, there was no tomorrow.

 

L had picked up a children's book titled, ironic to his death, “How to fly”. He had asked him what that meant, and so, in his mistake, Benny-Jen told him.

 

Running at top speed, L ran up the run down roller coaster with arms spread wide like a birds. Benny-Jen had been sitting at the very top, looking out over the city on the highest, very highest point on the roller coaster. He didn't see L coming straight for him, and when they collided, L laughed as he embraced Benny-Jen, both of them toppling over the edge of the 100 foot high metal contraption. Oh, did Benny-Jen scream as he fell to his death. But cute little L, he just hugged Benny-Jen tight and laughed as he screamed out:

 

“WE'RE FLYING!!!!”

 

Both boys were killed, smashed like bloody fleshy pancakes to the pavement by gravity. But L had such a happy face, even in death. Poor Benny-Jen. Atleast he was being held by the one he loved before his tragic demise.

 

The friends met up in the sky. L was so happy! He was actually flying! His white wings were the biggest I've ever seen. Such a pure little boy. Benny-Jen's weren't nearly as beautiful. The boys both put their tattoos on their foreheads, to show that they were the same in their minds.

 

 

All the Soul Reapers banded together to protect the nearly-dead, but they didn't know that's impossible. Everyone must die at some point. No one can be immortal.

 

 

I am the Grim Reaper. I would know.