Death

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Hi! Well, I got this idea, and wrote this in about 10 minutes at the most, so it's pretty short and crappy. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and understand. Thank you! ^__^



Death's hollow eyes followed the woman, washed up on his shore, intently. Her once lush and shining brown hair was ratty and dirty. She wore a revealing, yet glamorous dress, now stuck tight against her due to the violent waves that submerged her. The woman's eyes were distant, and she payed no attention to where she was or where she'd been. Her hand was clasped around an empty bottle which shook in her hand.

Death smiled limply and walked outside casually. His cloak was waving behind him as he stood, frozen in front of the waves that lapped his shore.

Death was an unusual figure. He wore a long black cloak to cover his black pants and shirt. His eyes were white, like the whites of an egg, and his head was hairless and covered in moving and changing tattoos, playing like movies of different deaths over and over.

The girl sat on her knees, rocking back and fourth. Tears streamed down her Latino face as she clutched the bottle with clammy hands.

Death stepped slowly into the water. His toes touched the sand, but the coolness of the water did not seem to phase him as it did the shivering girl. The waves were pushing at him, but he continued through the salt water effortlessly.

He stood in front of the girl, who was too drunk to even notice him, and he watched her shake. Death had made an immediate decision, as he always did, and it was always the same.

Your time has come

He held out an open palm to the girl, and whether she meant to our not, an uncontrollable force took control of her wasted body. She took his outstretched hand in hers and the pain began to take it's toll immediately.

She began to shake violently, crying out in utter pain. Death entered her body, and she felt as if he dug his blade-like nails straight into her heart, ripping and tearing at her flesh viciously until there was none left for her to live in.

Death held her hand until she no longer moved or shook, and the crashing waves carried her away to her rightful place in her life.

-

Hours passed in his small island, the clock turning while Death enjoyed every death of every victim that washed up. Death continued to direct people to their final destination.

The moon was high in the sky, shining over Death's shore. Death soon sensed the presence of a visitor, and he crept over to the shore. The night had made the water colder, but again this did not bother Death, as he swept silently through the water towards the victim. His feet sunk into the sand, and he wiggled his toes out of enjoyment.

He heard soft whimpers and sobs as he neared. Huddled together in a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees, was a small child. The girl wore a soaked hospital gown, now clinging to her scrawny body. Her eyes were closed tight, tears flowing like a river down her face. She had no hair, and no shoes.

The water choked her small lungs, and cut her breathing short. She caughed roughly, blinking only once or twice. When her eyes opened to look at death, a look of fear, even worse than it already was, became plastered across her face. Sobs escaped her lips uncontrollably, the terror miserably devouring her from the inside out.

Something, a feeling inside Death, made him pause. Death allowed the dark, and tormenting waves to crash around his body. He knelt down beside the girl, almost ready to take her hand and end her life, but instead he gathered her into his arms.

Death held her just like a baby, doing nothing but fighting his split personality. He knew that he wasn't supposed decide whether she should die or not, but where she would go; Heaven or Hell.

Death ignored the tide, and sunk deep into thought. Inside his heart, if he had one, a feeling he never experienced burned fierce. And at that moment, he made an immediate decision. She would not suffer, nor would her family.

Death laid her down in the waves, and placed her back where she came from.

Your time has not come yet, little one.
Last edited by Teardrop on Sat Apr 23, 2011 7:44 pm, edited 3 times in total.
And are the doctors dancing in, while the ambulances sing. Another boy without a sharper knife. The moment, that's where I kill the conversation, wrap this up with a knife that loves to feel. How do you know how deep to go before it's real?
- Yeah Boy And Doll Face ~ Pierce The Veil




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That was so sweet please tell me theres more
Love is strong, but there is more to life then to finding the love of your life...like...like...give me a minute...oh I got nothing, but there is...what was I talking about???




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Thank you! I haven't wrote more, I intended it to end there I guess but if you want, I guess I can think of a part two. : )
And are the doctors dancing in, while the ambulances sing. Another boy without a sharper knife. The moment, that's where I kill the conversation, wrap this up with a knife that loves to feel. How do you know how deep to go before it's real?
- Yeah Boy And Doll Face ~ Pierce The Veil




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I liked this, it was very nice. I always love the idea of Death (Or the Reaper as I like to say).

Ah... the Reaper with a heart of stone and gold :)
Your grammar was nice too, I didn't really find any obvious mistakes. The story was nice in total. Good job...!
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Hi, I haven't got much else to say other than I really liked this and I thought it was great. A job well done. Thanks, keep up the good work! :)




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Thank you so much! :)
And are the doctors dancing in, while the ambulances sing. Another boy without a sharper knife. The moment, that's where I kill the conversation, wrap this up with a knife that loves to feel. How do you know how deep to go before it's real?
- Yeah Boy And Doll Face ~ Pierce The Veil




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Hey! I thought this was really nice, and beautiful. All i can suggest is to watch out for run-on sentences. Don't get carried away with commas and stuff. It becomes a bit hard to read when you get carried away with run ons. I enjoyed this though, and wished it could have been a bit longer!

~Jessica
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Hey! Dreams here! First of all, I liked this a lot, although, I agree with jDawn in how you need to avoid run on sentences.


Teardrop wrote:Death's hollow eyes followed the woman, washed up on his shore, intently.
I thought this was a bit confusing sentence. Maybe try rewording it?

Teardrop wrote:When her eyes opened to look at death, a look of fear, even worse than it already was, became plastered across her face.
Shouldn't "Death" be capitilized, since it's the person Death? Thats how it appeared to me.

Nicely Done!

~Caroline




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Alrighty, thank you!
And are the doctors dancing in, while the ambulances sing. Another boy without a sharper knife. The moment, that's where I kill the conversation, wrap this up with a knife that loves to feel. How do you know how deep to go before it's real?
- Yeah Boy And Doll Face ~ Pierce The Veil




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Hey Teardrop!

I saw that this was featured - congrats on that - so I'm here to review this for you :)

I did notice a few nit-piks, so I'm going to point those out first before I get onto the story itself.

Her lush brown hair was ratty, and unsanitary.


This sentence contradicts itself. Where I come from, 'lush' means 'nice' yet you go on to describe the hair as less than nice. Also, 'unsanitary' doesn't seem to fit right. Maybe try -

'Her brown hair was ratty and dirty.'

where she's been.


'she's' should be 'she'd'

Her hand was clasped around an empty bottle, shaking with her hand.


This is worded a little awkwardly. Maybe try something along the lines of -

'Her hand was clasped around an empty bottle which shook in her grip.'

Death smiled limply, and walked


You don't need the comma.

His cloak was waving behind him, as he stood


This comma isn't needed either.

Death was an unusual figure, tall and cloaked.


I don't think you need the part after the comma as you go on to describe that he's wearing a cloak in the next sentence.

playing like movies different deaths


you need 'of' after 'movies'

The girl sat on her knees, rocking back and fourth, tears streaming down her Latino face, still clutching the bottle with clammy hands.


I agree with jDawn that you have too many run-on sentences. This here is an example. It would read better as -

'The girl sat on her knees, rocking back and fourth. Tears streamed down her Latino face as she clutched the bottle with clammy hands.'

His toes touching


'touching' should be 'touched'

and was always


you need 'it' after 'and'

hand in hers, and the pain


You don't need the comma.

Hours pasted in his small


Do you mean 'pasted' to be 'passed'

now tight against her scrawny body. Her eyes were closed tight,


You use the bolded word above twice, so it becomes a bit repetitive. Also, you described the woman's clothes as being stuck tight to her. To mix it up a bit, I suggest something like this -

'now clinging to her scrawny body. Her eyes were closed tight,'

Something, a feeling inside Death made him pause.


Comma after 'Death'

He knew that he was supposed to not decide whether


I think - 'He knew that he wasn't supposed to decide whether' - would flow better.

*

Overall, I think this was a good little story. I liked how you described Death, with the tattoos - it made your interpretation of him a little more original. I also liked how you made him care about the little girl - the ending was so sweet!

I did have a problem with your use of commas though. You tend to place a comma before every 'and'. This isn't really necessary and it disrupts the flow of the piece. I don't have a link to hand, but I'm sure there is a piece on how to use commas correctly in the writing tutorials section of this website :)

I hope this review helps!

I did enjoy reading this :)

xDudettex
'Stop wishing for the sunshine. Start living in the rain.' - Kids In Glass Houses.

'Would you destroy something perfect in order to make it beautiful?' - MCR artwork.




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Thank you much!! I'll get around to editing today or tomorrow... :) Thanks again!
And are the doctors dancing in, while the ambulances sing. Another boy without a sharper knife. The moment, that's where I kill the conversation, wrap this up with a knife that loves to feel. How do you know how deep to go before it's real?
- Yeah Boy And Doll Face ~ Pierce The Veil



To be a master of metaphor is the greatest thing by far. It is the one thing that cannot be learnt from others, and it is also a sign of genius.
— Aristotle, Poetics