"The grasshopper!... Mind the grasshopper!... A grasshopper not only turns, it hops!... It hops!... And it hops jolly high!" ~Erik, The Phantom of the Opera
Birth Date: October 13, 1986 Died at the age of : 24
Cause of Death: He was running a con job that went very, very wrong. The drug lord he was conning money out of found out about Damien's scheme. The drug lord buried Damien alive; Damien was trapped in a metal box for nearly six hours before he finally suffocated.
Personality:Damien has very few morals or ethics. He genuinely doesn't understand their purpose. Damien does what he must to keep himself comfortable. He is, by no means, evil, but one could not say he is wholly good. Damien has seen much cruelty in his life; he is no longer impressed by it. Damien expects the world to be unfair, and he has no desire to stop it being so.
Written Appearance: He keeps himself well-trimmed and neat. Damien has ink-black hair that he usually has slicked back. He is average height, thin, and has very pale eyes. He shows the marks of one who has lived a life of luxury.
Occupation: "Technically" he is an insurance man now, but he will still do the occasional con when business gets rough. Damien sticks to small money only, though; He never goes for multi-million-dollar deals anymore.
Likes: Damien likes the thrill of a challenge and the spark of danger. He likes being comfortable, and Damien loves money.
Dislikes: Damien dislikes righteousness. He is easily annoyed with people who think themselves far more noble or honorable then he.
Fears/Weaknesses: Since his death, Damien has developed claustrophobia and fear of the dark. He will go out at night, but always with a large flashlight to light his way. Damien has a fear of being trapped and helpless again.
Up for Love? Yes
Other: Michael is an extremely neutral person. Do not place a label of 'good' or 'evil' on him. He is likely to go either way, and is almost certainly going to switch sides.
"The grasshopper!... Mind the grasshopper!... A grasshopper not only turns, it hops!... It hops!... And it hops jolly high!" ~Erik, The Phantom of the Opera
Elizabeth: "There will come a moment when you will have a chance to show it. To do the right thing." Jack: "I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by."
Birth Date: 12th December 1973 Died at the age of: 26
Cause of Death: Fire. Robert's lungs had never been too good but even so, when he woke up to find his house on fire, he would have been just fine if he opened the window and climbed onto the roof. Except that he couldn't because sleeping in the next room was his only remaining family, a two year old little girl. In saving his daughter, Robert died of smoke inhalation in the hospital.
Personality: An honest, humble man who loves his daughter and lives only for her. Robert made the deal with Hades so that there would be someone to look after Kim. He hasn't ever regretted it but he hates his work and refuses to ever close the eyes of a child. Rob is much too gentle to last at this life for long.
Written Appearance: Brown hair, muscled figure and soulful brown eyes.
Likes: Watching his daughter grow up, sitting by the fire on a cold day, slow dancing in the moonlight, picnics in the sun.
Dislikes: Seeing children cry, reaping the dead for Hades, dealing with teenage girl problems.
Fears/Weaknesses: Rob's afraid that one day soon people are going to start noticing he isn't getting any older. He has recently moved house so he's not quite as worried at the moment. However, his daughter is now fourteen and she's bound to notice sooner or later that her father never gets old.
Birth Date: February 7th, 1991 Died at the age of: 19
Cause of Death: Charlotte had severe mental issues. During one of her delusions, she lit her dress on fire and jumped off a twenty story building.
Personality: Charlotte is about the most paranoid person you could meet. Even after she died, she has the same crazy mental problems. She rarely knows when something is real or just a delusion. When she is most sane, she remembers she can't stand her hair in her face and pulls it back. Any other time, her long hair is hanging wildly over her shoulders.
Written Appearance: Charlotte has long brown hair, dark blue eyes, and tanned skin. She is average height, and pretty thin.
*Photo:
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Clothes: She usually wears dark colored dresses, and hardly ever wears shoes
*Photo:
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Occupation: Works in an herbal remedy shop. The owner has been acused of being a witch several times, and the shop is avoided by the more pleasant population.
Likes: cats, music, flowers, grass, dark, the smell of the incense burning in the shop she works in
Fears/Weaknesses: Charlotte has crazy delusions, hallucinations, and is massively paranoid nearly all the time.
Up for Love? Yes
Other: Typically a heavy sedative can bring Charlotte off one of her "episodes" so she carries some around in her purse (but usually leaves her purse somewhere). Her nickname is Kitten because when she was a child she had regular episodes that led her to believe she was a cat. She has a headband with cat ears on them that she'll still wear from time to time.
Okay, we can start now! Thanks to everyone for joining!
I should also mention; the way we get from wherever we are to that dying person halfway across the world is by teleporting through shadows, just like Nico in the Percy Jackson series.
Gwynn
A feathery shadow wrapped around her arms from behind her, growing tighter and stronger with each twist. Gwynn sighed and, getting up from her seat, walked over to a dark corner of the room.
Instantly she was being pulled and pushed through the shadows to who knew where. It lasted for only a few seconds before she came to a sharp stop. As she stepped out into the light, her nose was filled with the smells of a dozen candles, none of which smelled good together. “Don’t they know ghosts have a keen sense of smell?” she muttered with the back of her hand over her nose. “Whoever I’m here for must be in agony.”
“Who are you?” said a child weakly with a heavy British accent. Gwynn turned on her heels. A young boy laid in bed, his face sullen and tired but his eyes wide. Cancer, she thought unhappily. “My name is Gwynn,” she said in a soft tone. “I’m going to take you to the afterlife.” The boy looked at her, then at the sheets.
“Can I say goodbye to my mom?” he asked in a quiet voice. He looked back up at Gwynn and she shook her head. Walking up to the bedside she held out her hand towards him. “Take my hand,” she said quietly. “Close your eyes.”
The boy did, though he was crying. With a glance to the clock to figure out where she was, Gwynn closed her eyes and whispered as softly as humanly possible. Smoke began to rise up around her, climbing along her legs, body, and arms, creeping towards the boy. When it covered him the two vanished, one to the afterlife, the other to her home.
***
The cuckoo clock clucked, and being a few minutes early, told that it was nearly six o’clock. Why doesn’t anyone ever want to go shopping for second-hand junk? she thought to herself with another sigh. It’s almost as if they knew it was jun-- Out of the corner of her eye she saw a person… No, a man walking up to the door and stopping to grab the handle. I’ll be danged. Here comes a sucker now.
Religion without science is lame; science without religion is blind.
Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the the universe.
Education is what remains after one has forgotten everything he learned in school.
Pressing my thin body against the wall I hide as far in the shadows as I could. I small girl, no older than six, lay in the hospital bed listening to the nurse wearily. When the nurse exited I checked the room. No one.
When I crept from the spot the girl spotted me and said in a creaky voice "Who are you?" Standing on the side of her bed I smiled at her. I hopped onto the bed next to her and lay down, my head next to hers. I whispered to her "I'm an Angel darling." Her chubby hands grabbed my arm and she said "Are you going to take me to god?"
A lump formed in my throat. I managed to say "I do not no sweetie. I'm an Angel of Earth. I do not know where you go. But have you been good?" She nodded vigorously and I said "Then I assume so." So I told a few lies to a dying child. At least she'd die with her head at peace.
When I held my hand out to her she slid her into it. I muttered a few words under my breath and kissed her forehead. Smoke crept over her and her spirit left, taking her to the afterlife and me home.
In my bed I covered my face, holding back tears. The poor girl was shot. Wiping my eyes I muttered "At least she didn't die un-naturally."
Saphire I stayed in the shadows while the nurse and the young womans mother fussed over her. "May I have some peace please?" She asked her voice weak but full of dignity. "Of course dear. If you need anything call us." The nurse said walking out the mother following close behind her. I stepped out of the shadows and the young woman stared straight at me no fear in her face just a grim understanding. "I know why you are here and I have accepted this." She said her voice determined and her chin set before I could say anything. I smiled at her and walked over to her. "Alright then take my hand and close your eyes." I said quietly my voice gentle but firm. She obeyed my orders and when she closed her eyes I kissed her forehead and whispered a few words and smoke rose up around us. As soon as it covered her it took both of us away one of us to the Underworld and one of us to home. I sighed and sat down on the stool behind the counter. I pulled out Gone with the Wind and started to read doubting that I would get any customers today.
"You are without a doubt, the worst pirate I've ever heard of."
Just out of curiosity, has anybody here read the book "A Dirty Job" by Christopher Moore? Because the concept of there being "Santa's little helper's of death" is the base idea of (and a direct quote from) the book. I don't know, just kind of curious I guess. If you need a good book to read, pick it up...for a book about santa's little helper's of death, it's actually really funny, if the plot doesn't satisfy you enough. Alright, I'm going to stop rambling and just get to my post. Have a lucky day, glad to be starting this at last.
Drake
I took my glance around at where the shadows decided to take me to for the last kill of the day. I was in a place that I hadn’t ever gotten anybody in before; an amusement park, and an old one at that. It was a really old county fair sort of place; farmland out the back, big red barn for the petting zoo, giant corn maze, and to top it off, an old, wooden roller coaster.
Another thing I couldn’t notice was that there was only one soul in the entire park, who took quite a while to find. He was an old farmer, and he managed to fall asleep inside one of the roller coaster cars, one that had, on the floor of the car, a mostly clean pair of panties with a dirt hoof-print on it. By far one of the weirdest sights I’d seen in this job.
I could’ve just woken him up and take him away, but I had a better idea. I reached into his overalls’ front pocket and took his large, full key ring. I went to the roller coaster control panel, put the key labeled “Coaster” into a little activation lock.
I turned it on, and I set the coaster to move as slowly as it could go, until it hit the tallest part of the coaster. I stopped it there, and I looked over at the farmer; he tried to roll over in his sleep, but nothing more. He was alive, but he wasn’t going to wake up anyways. That’s how everybody went. So, why shouldn’t I have a little fun with the job, right? It’s what I’d been doing for most of the people I get sent to, and nobody had bothered me yet about it. Kept the job interesting, anyways, to kill them myself, with my own creative license guiding the way.
I got off the roller coaster entrance, and I walked underneath the high beam closest to where I parked the farmer’s coaster car. I pulled my handsaw out of my backpack, and put it to the beam. I cut and cut for not too long, and thanks to the old age of the coaster, one high beam was all I needed to cut; the entire structure started to collapse, and I jogged a distance away.
It was the kind of sudden demolition that would make a fourth grade boy want to devote his life to destruction, if he hadn’t already. The coaster cars went uneasy in an instant, and it fell top-down. When the coaster track was completely downed, I walked through the demolished wooden beams and planks, to the scratched up coaster car with blood coming out. Through the door, I saw the old man’s hand, which gave off the smallest spasm every few seconds.
I kneeled down and grabbed his wrist, and the smoke started to go up around me. As it blocked the sight of the rest of the fair, I noticed a twenty or so year old woman running towards the coaster. In a way, I felt sorry for her…but then I remembered that everybody dies. If you aren’t ready for somebody to die, or yourself for that matter, then you got to get to it.
The man was sent where everybody else was sent to, and I appeared back in my small apartment with the woodshop for a living room. I wandered to my bed and collapsed. It was yet another busy day for me, but as usual it was the good kind of busy. The kind of busy I couldn’t wait to get back to after a bit of rest. I reached over the night table and turned the iPod speakers on. I grinned to myself and closed my eyes, thinking only about the music. It helped me sleep, for whatever reason, just to listen to music. When all my focus went into it, I just dozed right off. And tonight was no exception.
"I'm fearless in my heart They will always see that in my eyes I am the passion, I am the warfare I will never stop Always constant, Accurate, Intense" "The Audience is Listening", by Steve Vai
I slipped into the house no problem, old people never seem to care much about security. I don't exactly enjoy what I do, but out of all the ways to do it, this was my favorite. In someone's sleep. You get to go visit them in their dreams. Sometimes, it can get pretty crazy, especially if it is a child, their dreams tend to be a little on the wild side. Luckily this was an old man, it was just his time to go, he was dreaming of walking on the beach.
"Hello Phillip," I said sweetly, "you need to come with me."
"What? Why? What's happened. Is it Georgia? Is something wrong with my sweetheart?" he asked, just about in a panic.
"No, no, no." I assured, "Georgia is fine, and if you think you have been good enough you will be joining her shortly."
His eyes lit up as he said, "For me to be with my sweet Georgia again, I will follow you anywhere."
"Good, follow me then." I smiled and motioned for him to follow me to a soft sandy beach, the perfect place for his last living memory.
"When will I get to see Georgia again? You said shortly but it has been ages." he said. Was he whining? I was about to reunite him with his departed love and he was giving me this? Well, maybe I was. I'm just a Child of Hades. I can't be sure of where he will go.
"Very soon, Phillip, very soon." I smiled. I motioned for him to come near. "Right way if you let me."
He nodded, "Of course, anything for dear Georgia." he came over to where I was standing. "Please do what you need. Georgia is waiting for me, she said she would."
I grinned, "Gladly, just close your eyes." He closed them tightly as I grabbed his hand and led him into the light. From there, what happened to him wasn't on me, Hades was in charge.
Last edited by jemjive on Sat May 22, 2010 6:36 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Your motor's unstable, Your like an Undwinding Cable Car.
Creed never like this job, even if he was able to stay alive. He gazed down at the girl, laying in a bathtub full of water and blood. Her wrists, both of them, were slit three times. Twice horizontally, and once vertically. She was such a beautiful girl too. Her breathing was slow and shallow, as well as her heartbeat.
With a sigh, Creed took her hand in his, and her eyes, with her a bright, bright blue, opened slowly. "Who are you?" She asked, or at least formed with her lips.
"I'm you're guardian." Creed said softly. "I'm going to take you to a better place, alright?" This girl... she'd committed no sin. Creed could feel it with every fiber of his being. The corner of her lips turned up into a week smile.
"Thank you." She choked, her eyes filling with tears.
"Shh, calm down." Creed smiled softly, taking her hands in his, he pressed his lips to her fingers, whispered a few soft words, and smoke slowly engulfed both of them.
With a heavy heart, Creed returned to the tattoo parlor, shaking his head slowly and sadly.
Oh, the tiger will love you. There is no sincerer love than the love of food. George Bernard Shaw
With her hair fastened tightly at her neck with a dark purple ribbon, Charlotte leaned over the countertop in the dark, smoky shop she spent most of her days in. She contemplated what the night would bring her. Nights were always eventful for Charlotte; she was a Child of Hades, and only made her quota in the dark.
"Ezmerelda," Charlotte groaned. She rested her cheek on the cool countertop. "We've had no customers for days."
"Hush, girl," the wrinkled bag of skin shouted from the back room. "Remember what I've told you about complaining."
"It does nothing for your health," Charlotte mumbled. She pushed herself off the counter and made her rounds around the shop. She lit incense, restocked shelves, and organized the same display over and over again until it was in the same order she started in.
Charlotte settled back behind the counter, this time sitting cross-legged on a footstool. She pulled a book from her bag and squinted at the pages. It was positively too dark in the shop to read, almost too dark to see your own hand in front of your face, but the words weren't the point of the book. What the pure essence of the pages bound together, of what the words that were there meant by just being there, that's what was the point.
Sometimes, only Charlotte understood these things.
Damien glanced up toward the fifth floor apartment. He could dimly hear music playing from inside. Damien grinned. Someone was home.
Damien had been tracking this man for weeks now, seizing every opportunity he could to look at old police reports, hospital records, autopsy reports. From what Damien could see, Mr. Hartman was exactly the kind of person that Damien wanted. Of course, no one knew him now by that name. But Damien was almost certain the infamous killer was a Child, much like Damien.
Damien stepped out of his company car lightly. He paused for a moment to smooth his suit. Damien glances around and quietly walked toward the entrance to the building.
Damien couldn't help a small smile play on his face. Tracking this man down was a reminder of Damien's old life. Like the old cons, Damien had thoroughly enjoyed the process.
As Damien climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, he wondered mildly what he would say to Hartman when he met him. Damien hadn't gone through all of his troubles only to make an enemy. Damien needed him. The feds were getting too nosy. Damien wanted back-up in case things took a turn for the worst.
Damien reached the door of the apartment in question. He paused for a moment, tempted to just walk into the apartment. But, no, Damien must remember manners. He knocked quickly on the apartment door and patiently waited for a response.
*Hope this is okay with you, Howler. Wherever you want to take this, feel free to.
"The grasshopper!... Mind the grasshopper!... A grasshopper not only turns, it hops!... It hops!... And it hops jolly high!" ~Erik, The Phantom of the Opera
I walked down the street somewhat aimlessly. It was only midday and my daily quota was already complete, thanks to a pile-up on a nearby motorway. Though why anyone would ever travel by car still bemused me; I'd never admit it but the very thought of entering one of those metal death traps terrified me.
Looking around, I saw an old-fashioned pawn shop, and considered it for a moment. Did pawn shops sell books? I eventually decided to give it a try before heading off to work.
I entered the shop with a curious expression. There was a young girl sitting at the counter, looking bored. Rather than search the crowded shop for reaading material, I resolved to ask. "Excuse me, but do you sell books here?"
Elizabeth: "There will come a moment when you will have a chance to show it. To do the right thing." Jack: "I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by."
Eventually of course.
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