Zeras
New Member
So, before I get into this. I would like to point out this was written nearly a year ago. Also, feel free to comment. This post is just for the prologue, which is probably the best example of my writing so far. I do hope you all like it.
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October 13th, 1999, 7:30 PM. Golden Gate Park, San Francisco California. Magdeline Crawford was taking an after-dark stroll after finishing her latest treatment of Chemo-Therapy. She clutched the silk rag in her hand, achingly waiting for the next blood-filled coughing fit so she could unleash it into the ran and not leave the path looking like a crime-scene. Magdeline, or as her friends called her, Maggie, always walked through Golden Gate Park while she waited for her Chemo-Treatment to wear off. Because of the pain she constantly felt in her lungs, the doctors always sedated her while they treated her. She was almost to the end of the park when the coughing started. Maggie wheezed and gagged as blood was forced up her throat and out of her mouth, into the rag. When she finally stopped gagging, Maggie pulled the rag away from her mouth to examine the blood she coughed out.
"No way.." Maggie uttered quietly, her throat sore from coughing. The pool of blood in the rag was more than usual, enough to scare her. However, it wasn't how much blood was on the rag that startled her, it was the shape the blood took at is pooled in her palm. The sickingly red pool of blood formed the shape of a skull, like you'd see on the old pirate flags in movies or video games.
Maggie was more than a little scared. But, like any other human, her mind went to work trying to rationalize what she saw. Things like 'It's a hallucination' or 'I must still have a little anasthesia in my system' ran through her mind. However, the truth was a lot more sinister. Even though she couldn't see him, Maggie felt a looming presence approaching her from behind. That's when the voice came, but it didn't come from behind her, it came from within her own head.
"Hello, Magdeline. I've been looking for you" The voice sounded in her head. Maggie looked up instinctively, but when she noticed that the source of the voice wasn't in front of her, she stood upright and began turning around, looking for whoever spoke to her. It wasn't until she spun three times around in a complete 360, that the man appeared before her. He was beautiful, in a masculine way. His skin gleamed in the moonlight, looking like pure Ivory. His hair was so black Maggie thought that if she ran her hand through it, it would come out slick with oil. He was dressed in a silk black suit, his blazer as black as his hair and the shirt under it was the color of charcoal. His tie was silver, littered with a pattern of black skulls that were so small and interlocking that it looked as if it was actually striped. Maggie thought this man looked like he'd make even the straightest man swoon over him. Why a man like him would be looking for a plain and diseased woman like herself, she couldn't even begin to fathom.
"M-me? Why would you be looking for me?" she asked shyly, both confused and intrigued at once. The man smiled smugly in response, which even though this was their first encounter, Maggie could feel it melting her heart, like it was the smile of a long-lost lover.
"Oh, Magdeline, I've been looking for you from the moment you picked up your first cigarette. How old were you? Thirteen? Yes, it's been a long time. You see, I cannot see the healthy, but from the moment you inhaled your first lungful of Tobacco smoke, you were put on my radar."
Maggie was having a hard time taking this all in. Maybe this was still a hallucination, she thought. Maybe she was still in the hospital on anasthesia and this was a fever-dream. But for some reason, she knew she was too lucid for this to possibly be a figment of her imagination. "Who... Who are you?" She asked, quivering. She was starting to feel cold, and the autumn breeze wasn't doing much to help.
"Oh, I've been called many things. Anubis, Hades, Thanatos, the Fourth Horseman, Death. Some even confuse me with Lucifer himself. However, you humans only ever feel comfortable referring to people with names that make sense in your mind, like Irish immigrants who have to change their last names when entering The States. So, my dear Magdeline. You may call me John." The man smiled, as if his small introduction was as normal as taking a breath. Maggie, however, wasn't taking it as easily.
Maggie began to hyperventalate. She was breathing heavy and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her lungs ached, the left one hurt considerably moreso as the ping-pong-ball-sized tumor weighed it down and pulled at the tissue of her lung. Maggie began to silently pray to herself, feeling as if she was about to die. She looked to the man, who was claiming that he was the embodiment of Death, yet insisted on being called 'John'. The man smirked, and then his voice in her head became louder and clearer as his lips moved.
"You see, Magdeline, I can only find and get close to people who are near death. And by 'near', I do not mean they have a week to live. Apologies, my dear, but your time is up. "
Maggie's eyes began to water, though her body was having trouble producing tears. She couldn't speak, and she could practically hear a small tear beginning to open up on the tumor in her lung. Even if she was having trouble believing 'John's words, she couldn't deny that she knew that these were her last moments. She swallowed what felt like a gallon of blood in order to clear her throat enough to speak "I'm... Not... Ready.."
'John' laughed and nodded, stepping closer to Maggie, as if an invisible barrier between them was slowly fading away "That's the joke, now isn't it? Nobody is ever ready to die. At least, nobody at the age of thirty-four with no family or kids. The only people who accept Death, who embrace me as an old friend, are those who lived long, full lives. Of course a single woman in her thirties wouldn't be ready to die. But, my dear, that's why I'm speaking to you, instead of just letting Death consume you. I'm here to give you.. an extension."
Maggie was staring at him, giving a weak nod to let him know to continue. She listened wholeheartedly. She did NOT want to die tonight.
"I want a son. I want a legacy. You see, like I said, I cannot be close to the living, and the dead cannot have families. The only chance I have at having a son is to conceive a child with a dead woman." He coughed suggestively "Though this wouldn't be a traditional conception. I'd merely pass through you and leave a part of me with you" He looked at her seriously, knowing how crazy this must sound to a human woman. However, the thing about 'John', was that whenever a living human looked upon him, they would feel as if they had to do whatever it took to please him. Death always was the most beautiful 'thing' in the world.
Maggie nodded weakly, not hesitating to take John's offer. She wanted to live, and if that meant having this man's child, so be it. She'd always wanted to have a kid, but gave up on it along with love when she was diagnosed with cancer. She began to stumble towards John, her legs getting weaker with each uneven step.
John smirked smugly and walked the final steps towards Maggie. However, until her last breath, he could not physically touch her. "You'll feel my embrace, the touch of Death, and then you'll be alive, and with child. However, this is but an extension. You will not live forever. You will live until our son reaches the age of eighteen. Until that day, you will not get so much as a cold. If you are mortally wounded, however, the wound will not heal, so be careful."
Maggie was nodding furiously, she could feel her lungs fill with blood, her heart was racing toward the finish line and her eyes stung with the salt of the tears that refused to flow. The tumor had burst and that meant death. She inhaled sharply, which sounded like a gurgle because of the blood in her throat, as she felt herself dying. Her heart finally stopped beating and she fell forward into John's arms.
In a flash, Maggie was awake in a hospital room, surrounded by doctors who were amazed by her shocking, miraculous recovery. They informed Maggie that she was pregnant, and that her lungs were perfectly fine, as if the tumor and her cancer had never existed. It was a miracle for Maggie. However, someday soon, she'd realize that raising her son to adulthood would be like preparing her own coffin and planning her funeral. She decided at that moment that her son would not reach the age of eighteen.
Lucien Angelo Crawford was born on June 22nd, 2000, at 4:15 PM, in Rochester General Hospital, in Rochester New York.
_______________________________
October 13th, 1999, 7:30 PM. Golden Gate Park, San Francisco California. Magdeline Crawford was taking an after-dark stroll after finishing her latest treatment of Chemo-Therapy. She clutched the silk rag in her hand, achingly waiting for the next blood-filled coughing fit so she could unleash it into the ran and not leave the path looking like a crime-scene. Magdeline, or as her friends called her, Maggie, always walked through Golden Gate Park while she waited for her Chemo-Treatment to wear off. Because of the pain she constantly felt in her lungs, the doctors always sedated her while they treated her. She was almost to the end of the park when the coughing started. Maggie wheezed and gagged as blood was forced up her throat and out of her mouth, into the rag. When she finally stopped gagging, Maggie pulled the rag away from her mouth to examine the blood she coughed out.
"No way.." Maggie uttered quietly, her throat sore from coughing. The pool of blood in the rag was more than usual, enough to scare her. However, it wasn't how much blood was on the rag that startled her, it was the shape the blood took at is pooled in her palm. The sickingly red pool of blood formed the shape of a skull, like you'd see on the old pirate flags in movies or video games.
Maggie was more than a little scared. But, like any other human, her mind went to work trying to rationalize what she saw. Things like 'It's a hallucination' or 'I must still have a little anasthesia in my system' ran through her mind. However, the truth was a lot more sinister. Even though she couldn't see him, Maggie felt a looming presence approaching her from behind. That's when the voice came, but it didn't come from behind her, it came from within her own head.
"Hello, Magdeline. I've been looking for you" The voice sounded in her head. Maggie looked up instinctively, but when she noticed that the source of the voice wasn't in front of her, she stood upright and began turning around, looking for whoever spoke to her. It wasn't until she spun three times around in a complete 360, that the man appeared before her. He was beautiful, in a masculine way. His skin gleamed in the moonlight, looking like pure Ivory. His hair was so black Maggie thought that if she ran her hand through it, it would come out slick with oil. He was dressed in a silk black suit, his blazer as black as his hair and the shirt under it was the color of charcoal. His tie was silver, littered with a pattern of black skulls that were so small and interlocking that it looked as if it was actually striped. Maggie thought this man looked like he'd make even the straightest man swoon over him. Why a man like him would be looking for a plain and diseased woman like herself, she couldn't even begin to fathom.
"M-me? Why would you be looking for me?" she asked shyly, both confused and intrigued at once. The man smiled smugly in response, which even though this was their first encounter, Maggie could feel it melting her heart, like it was the smile of a long-lost lover.
"Oh, Magdeline, I've been looking for you from the moment you picked up your first cigarette. How old were you? Thirteen? Yes, it's been a long time. You see, I cannot see the healthy, but from the moment you inhaled your first lungful of Tobacco smoke, you were put on my radar."
Maggie was having a hard time taking this all in. Maybe this was still a hallucination, she thought. Maybe she was still in the hospital on anasthesia and this was a fever-dream. But for some reason, she knew she was too lucid for this to possibly be a figment of her imagination. "Who... Who are you?" She asked, quivering. She was starting to feel cold, and the autumn breeze wasn't doing much to help.
"Oh, I've been called many things. Anubis, Hades, Thanatos, the Fourth Horseman, Death. Some even confuse me with Lucifer himself. However, you humans only ever feel comfortable referring to people with names that make sense in your mind, like Irish immigrants who have to change their last names when entering The States. So, my dear Magdeline. You may call me John." The man smiled, as if his small introduction was as normal as taking a breath. Maggie, however, wasn't taking it as easily.
Maggie began to hyperventalate. She was breathing heavy and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her lungs ached, the left one hurt considerably moreso as the ping-pong-ball-sized tumor weighed it down and pulled at the tissue of her lung. Maggie began to silently pray to herself, feeling as if she was about to die. She looked to the man, who was claiming that he was the embodiment of Death, yet insisted on being called 'John'. The man smirked, and then his voice in her head became louder and clearer as his lips moved.
"You see, Magdeline, I can only find and get close to people who are near death. And by 'near', I do not mean they have a week to live. Apologies, my dear, but your time is up. "
Maggie's eyes began to water, though her body was having trouble producing tears. She couldn't speak, and she could practically hear a small tear beginning to open up on the tumor in her lung. Even if she was having trouble believing 'John's words, she couldn't deny that she knew that these were her last moments. She swallowed what felt like a gallon of blood in order to clear her throat enough to speak "I'm... Not... Ready.."
'John' laughed and nodded, stepping closer to Maggie, as if an invisible barrier between them was slowly fading away "That's the joke, now isn't it? Nobody is ever ready to die. At least, nobody at the age of thirty-four with no family or kids. The only people who accept Death, who embrace me as an old friend, are those who lived long, full lives. Of course a single woman in her thirties wouldn't be ready to die. But, my dear, that's why I'm speaking to you, instead of just letting Death consume you. I'm here to give you.. an extension."
Maggie was staring at him, giving a weak nod to let him know to continue. She listened wholeheartedly. She did NOT want to die tonight.
"I want a son. I want a legacy. You see, like I said, I cannot be close to the living, and the dead cannot have families. The only chance I have at having a son is to conceive a child with a dead woman." He coughed suggestively "Though this wouldn't be a traditional conception. I'd merely pass through you and leave a part of me with you" He looked at her seriously, knowing how crazy this must sound to a human woman. However, the thing about 'John', was that whenever a living human looked upon him, they would feel as if they had to do whatever it took to please him. Death always was the most beautiful 'thing' in the world.
Maggie nodded weakly, not hesitating to take John's offer. She wanted to live, and if that meant having this man's child, so be it. She'd always wanted to have a kid, but gave up on it along with love when she was diagnosed with cancer. She began to stumble towards John, her legs getting weaker with each uneven step.
John smirked smugly and walked the final steps towards Maggie. However, until her last breath, he could not physically touch her. "You'll feel my embrace, the touch of Death, and then you'll be alive, and with child. However, this is but an extension. You will not live forever. You will live until our son reaches the age of eighteen. Until that day, you will not get so much as a cold. If you are mortally wounded, however, the wound will not heal, so be careful."
Maggie was nodding furiously, she could feel her lungs fill with blood, her heart was racing toward the finish line and her eyes stung with the salt of the tears that refused to flow. The tumor had burst and that meant death. She inhaled sharply, which sounded like a gurgle because of the blood in her throat, as she felt herself dying. Her heart finally stopped beating and she fell forward into John's arms.
In a flash, Maggie was awake in a hospital room, surrounded by doctors who were amazed by her shocking, miraculous recovery. They informed Maggie that she was pregnant, and that her lungs were perfectly fine, as if the tumor and her cancer had never existed. It was a miracle for Maggie. However, someday soon, she'd realize that raising her son to adulthood would be like preparing her own coffin and planning her funeral. She decided at that moment that her son would not reach the age of eighteen.
Lucien Angelo Crawford was born on June 22nd, 2000, at 4:15 PM, in Rochester General Hospital, in Rochester New York.
