29

IDENTITY
by: Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1906)

SOMEWHERE--in desolate wind-swept space--

In Twilight-land--in No-man's land--

Two hurrying Shapes met face to face,

And bade each other stand.

 

"And who are you?" cried one a-gape,

Shuddering in the gloaming light.

"I know not," said the second Shape,

"I only died last night!

CHAPTER TWO

I'm of course very busy and have a lot of people to take away and bring them to either the heavens, or to hell. But I do find myself having a little bit of extra time. So I'v decided to start writing this journal. I still think this may be dangerous, but I don’t have anything else to do.  

Today started like any other day. Someone died in a car crash. Bring them to heaven. Someone got murdered. Bring them to heaven. Criminal died in jail. Bring them to questioning.  If they are guilty enough go to hell. Say hi to Satan. Bring murdered girl to heaven. Say hi to Jesus. Bring murderer to questioning. Bring them to hell.

Just me and a bunch of dead people.

Joy.

I was about to stand and look for my mom and dad, when all of a sudden, I saw something move in the shadows. I froze feeling all of a sudden cold. I tried to see who or what the shadowed figure was. but I couldn’t see from where I was. I watched as the figure went beside my grandpa and touched him. My grandpa breathed in a hoarse breathe and then sighed. The figure grabbed at the air as if it was trying to grab my grandpa's breath. The figure got out a bottle and stuffed something into it. The figure turned and was about to leave it , when the figure seemed to notice me. I stared at it and it stared back. The door opened suddenly and the figure disappeared. My mom came in and told me to say goodbye to grandpa when she saw grandpa. She gasped and ran out the door. The rest of the day seemed to be a blur. Everyone came in discovering him being dead. My parents cried and kept hugging me. But I didn't say anything. I wished I could ask someone who the figure was but I knew they would just tell me I was hallucinating and that I was just sad that my grandpa was dead.

But I knew something wasn't right. Who or what was that figure? What were they doing? And most importantly…

Why was it I couldn’t stop thinking about it?

My mom and dad though acted as if it would happen. That he would go back home and he'd take me out fishing. I knew they did it because they wanted his money, like everyone else in my family.

All my cousins , aunts, uncles, and even family friends surrounded him asking who would get the money. Before my grandpa got sick,  I never knew that he had money. But apparently he's sticking rich. Everyone acted like they were one big family when the reality was that we all hated each other. My mother would always glare at my dads sisters and brothers. My mother hated my dads side of the family. It was just a fact. I asked her when I was 3 why she hated them so much.  She just frowned and said that she just had disagreements with them. 

Everyone actually thought he wasn't really going anywhere. So no one came there. My mom and dad told me to wait with him while they got the nurse so they could talk about his vesting hours. So I sat there staring at my grandpa. He was asleep. For some odd reason I always thought he looked younger when he slept. His face was more relaxed and all the wear and tear over the years seemed to disappear. His wrinkles didn't seem to be there.

 CHAPTER ONE

I didn't really understand who  I saw the day my grandpa died. All I knew was as soon as that person left, my grandpa was dead.

What happened that day was like all the others. We smiled politely at my grandpa telling him how much better he looked today, though it was a lie. It was all a lie. We only acted this way in front of the public. My dad always said a lie is sometimes better than the truth. I never did understand why though. Isn't it bad to lie? Trevor tanner at school said the worst thing ever was to lie. He told me that lying was worst than killing someone. And that anyone who lies goes to hell. I think that Trevor tanner was just being mean. He lies all the time too so doesn’t that mean that he's going to hell to?

I never understood why adults like lying though. They tell you things like, your dog went to a nice barn in the country, when in reality your dog is dead. They think your too fragile to handle it. My parents though, take it to a whole other level. They tell me what a talented artist I am and how wonderful I am at designing of clothes. For one thing I did a terrible job on the picture on purpose and even though I actually was trying to make the dress look nice I could tell they were lying.

I was only 6 at the time my grandpa died. I was pretty smart for a little kid so I knew why we visited him. It was because he was dying. My parents didn't tell me the truth because I think my grandpa honestly didn't know it himself. He always smiled and talked about he was going to get out soon and how me and him will go fishing. I always did like fishing with him. He always told me if I got a big fish then we would go out for ice-cream. But the problem with that was the fact he was at the final stage of heart cancer.

Why is everyone afraid of death? I never understood. Sure there are great things in life, but, doesn’t it get tiring? You get tired so easily when you are close to death. You get tired of moving. You get tired of talking. When you sleep that is when your happiest, for when you sleep you are free. You are not tired.  You can do whatever you like see anyone you want. The only problem is that eventually wake up. And when you do, you feel the weight of your body come back. you hear all the terrible noises around you. And then you see everyone's faces. You feel like a burden to them. So you think, why cant you take me death? Why not end the endless pain of my family? I am a burden to them. Why?

And when he does come for some reason you don’t want to go. There is something that cries out no! you try to get away but death is fast.

When you are dying you feel as if you are going to sleep. Your breath is taken and you drift off. Of course you either go to heaven or hell. But the thing no one wonders is who is death?

Because my thought is that death is a person. Death who is the loneliest person in the world. Death has no one. Death is all alone. Death cannot love.

Or can he?

23: creative story continued....

the one thing that Leanne didn't understand about the angels was why they all were different. usually the artist has the faces and the faces only, different. but for some strange reason, they all were very different. you could easily see their personalities. enthusiastic. fierce. vengeful. envious. shy. mysterious. all of them different. their wings weren't all white either. they all had different wings, different hair different eyes, everything was different except their clothing and their gender. they were all men. none of them were women. Leanne thought that since the artist was a man it would only make sense that he would have painted women. but he didn't. all the angels were handsome young men. it bothered Leanne that her grandparents gave her this room. since all the angels were young men shouldn't they be afraid that she would want to be around men twenty four seven because of this? but no. that is not what happened. instead, she was deathly afraid of men. she thought them to be so frightning with their scary eerie look they give to her when she passes by. her mother tells her there is nothing to fear, but leanne knew better. she had read the news. about the sluaghter of innocent people. all becuase of men. she knew woman though were as capable as the men to do the horrid things too. but she still couldnt forgive those afull men!