...all long pig, all the time... (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
froodle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eerieindiana2016-10-13 06:39 pm
froodle) wrote in eerieindiana2016-10-13 06:39 pm
Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Already Decided
Written for Day 13 of the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31daysoffandom October challenge. The prompt I used for this one was "death"
Death, in skeletal aspect. Death, wreathed in shadows. Death, scythe-toting and striding across the Eerie cemetery on a bright winter’s day in pursuit of a life he’d already reaped.
Death, staring at a dark-eyed girl in a leather jacket and torn black jeans, who leapt out from between two family crypts, brandishing a Pitbull Surfers skateboard covered in band stickers and demanding to know why he was “creepily creeping around all day like a total creeper who was getting paid by the creep.”
“Uh,” said Death.
Melanie Monroe, for whom the sudden freedom from the life-threatening heart condition that had plagued her for her entire life was spectacularly failing to be everything she had hoped it would be, and who had just lost the second of two maybe-sort-of-boyfriends in the space of as many months, wasn’t in the mood.
“I can see you, you know,” she said. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are. I saw you watching me through the window at the World o’ Stuff. I know it was you rustling the bushes at Deadwood Park. This afternoon, you stood across the street and stared at the Teller’s attic window for three hours. I knew you were there the whole time, and I had to have my first serious relationship-talk knowing that the Grim Reaper was right over the road, twiddling his sickle and shifting from foot to foot as if he needed to pee while he waited for me to come out.”
“It’s a scythe, actually,” said Death. “Sickles have a short handle. Also, I’m a skeleton and skeletons don’t pee.”
“What do you want?!”
Death produced an ornate hour-glass from beneath his spectral robes. The glass was cloudy and opaque, like sea-glass, but it was still obvious from the dark mass of sand in the lower bulb and the daylight filtering through the scratched and faded surface of the upper that it had long since run dry.
“I have come for the heart of Devon Wilde,” he said, tapping the mahogany wood casing with a bony finger.
Melanie paled, then flushed. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, and her hands gripped the scraped-up skateboard in a white-knuckled grip. The donated heart hammered in her chest and her pulse pounded in her ears, but the quiet hum of Devon’s presence, her constant companion since she woke from the anaesthetic, had diminished to almost-nothing.
“You are so out of line,” she said, and her voice was all her own, raw and hurt and angry and ready to punch a corporeal manifestation of an eternal concept right in the face. “You took everything you were entitled to the day of the milk truck accident. Whatever... fragments might be left, you’ve got no claim on them.”
“I disagree,” said Death.
“Too bad,” said Melanie, spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Death slack-jawed and mute in her wake.
After a moment, he began following her, calling her name. Melanie continued to walk, her back straight, her shoulders set, her gaze resolutely fixed on the far horizon. Behind her, the ever-present spectre of mortality began waving frantically in an effort to catch her attention.
At the cherub-topped monument to the first, brief life of Devon Wilde, Marshall retrieved the golden locket, turned, and smiled at Simon.
The Children
Eventide by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
froodle, in which the sun goes down, and Eerie's lost children gather
Milk byfroodle, in which Marshall develops a completely cromulent fear of milk trucks
Whistle byfroodle, in which Steve Konkalewski is unhappy about the way things turned out...
Three byfroodle, in which Marshall and Devon discuss video games in a cemetary
Marys byfroodle, in which Mary C. Carter takes on her new role
A Story About Devon Wilde byfroodle. Devon Wilde walked through the Eerie Cemetery, and his feet made no sound on the gravel pathways.
Disguises byfroodle, in which Marshall goes to visit Devon Wilde
Lillian byfroodle, in which Marilyn's mother has concerns
31daysoffandom October challenge. The prompt I used for this one was "death"Death, in skeletal aspect. Death, wreathed in shadows. Death, scythe-toting and striding across the Eerie cemetery on a bright winter’s day in pursuit of a life he’d already reaped.
Death, staring at a dark-eyed girl in a leather jacket and torn black jeans, who leapt out from between two family crypts, brandishing a Pitbull Surfers skateboard covered in band stickers and demanding to know why he was “creepily creeping around all day like a total creeper who was getting paid by the creep.”
“Uh,” said Death.
Melanie Monroe, for whom the sudden freedom from the life-threatening heart condition that had plagued her for her entire life was spectacularly failing to be everything she had hoped it would be, and who had just lost the second of two maybe-sort-of-boyfriends in the space of as many months, wasn’t in the mood.
“I can see you, you know,” she said. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are. I saw you watching me through the window at the World o’ Stuff. I know it was you rustling the bushes at Deadwood Park. This afternoon, you stood across the street and stared at the Teller’s attic window for three hours. I knew you were there the whole time, and I had to have my first serious relationship-talk knowing that the Grim Reaper was right over the road, twiddling his sickle and shifting from foot to foot as if he needed to pee while he waited for me to come out.”
“It’s a scythe, actually,” said Death. “Sickles have a short handle. Also, I’m a skeleton and skeletons don’t pee.”
“What do you want?!”
Death produced an ornate hour-glass from beneath his spectral robes. The glass was cloudy and opaque, like sea-glass, but it was still obvious from the dark mass of sand in the lower bulb and the daylight filtering through the scratched and faded surface of the upper that it had long since run dry.
“I have come for the heart of Devon Wilde,” he said, tapping the mahogany wood casing with a bony finger.
Melanie paled, then flushed. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, and her hands gripped the scraped-up skateboard in a white-knuckled grip. The donated heart hammered in her chest and her pulse pounded in her ears, but the quiet hum of Devon’s presence, her constant companion since she woke from the anaesthetic, had diminished to almost-nothing.
“You are so out of line,” she said, and her voice was all her own, raw and hurt and angry and ready to punch a corporeal manifestation of an eternal concept right in the face. “You took everything you were entitled to the day of the milk truck accident. Whatever... fragments might be left, you’ve got no claim on them.”
“I disagree,” said Death.
“Too bad,” said Melanie, spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Death slack-jawed and mute in her wake.
After a moment, he began following her, calling her name. Melanie continued to walk, her back straight, her shoulders set, her gaze resolutely fixed on the far horizon. Behind her, the ever-present spectre of mortality began waving frantically in an effort to catch her attention.
At the cherub-topped monument to the first, brief life of Devon Wilde, Marshall retrieved the golden locket, turned, and smiled at Simon.
The Children
Eventide by
froodle, in which the sun goes down, and Eerie's lost children gatherMilk by
froodle, in which Marshall develops a completely cromulent fear of milk trucksWhistle by
froodle, in which Steve Konkalewski is unhappy about the way things turned out...Three by
froodle, in which Marshall and Devon discuss video games in a cemetaryMarys by
froodle, in which Mary C. Carter takes on her new roleA Story About Devon Wilde by
froodle. Devon Wilde walked through the Eerie Cemetery, and his feet made no sound on the gravel pathways.Disguises by
froodle, in which Marshall goes to visit Devon WildeLillian by
froodle, in which Marilyn's mother has concerns
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