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Millific: Mark and Death
Jun. 11th, 2006 09:23 amSomething didn't feel right. Mark was walking along the alley, or at least he thought he was walking along the alley, when he felt an oddly sharp pain in his chest. He looked up to see the barrel of a gun pointed at him, and a masked figure speaking. "Why don't you corrupt our kids -now-, kike?" Before Mark could do anything, or say anything, the black-clad figure ran out of the alley.
He fell to the ground, wincing, and clutching his bag. If he could only crawl to the door halfway down the alley, he could get to the bar. And there had to be someone there who could help. They'd helped before. Before he could get any further, however, he suddenly felt lighter, standing up.
YOU'RE NOT GOING TO GET FAR TRYING THAT, YOU KNOW. A voice came to Mark's ears, and he turned, only to see what was seemingly impossible. A tall, thin, skeletal figure in a black robe with shining blue eyes.
"Wait. You're Death. The one from Discworld. What the hell're you doing in my world?" Mark stared, finally managing a glance down to his feet. He was lying at his own feet. And then it hit him, just as Death spoke.
I AM HERE BY WHAT YOU HUMANS CALL A 'SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT' Death stood there, almost amusedly.
Mark stares. "I need to get film of this." He leans over, and his hands pass through his bag airily. "Damnit. I need that camera."
THERE IS ANOTHER SAYING YOU HUMANS HAVE. 'YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU'. Death pulled out the scythe. WHERE YOU'RE GOING, YOU WILL SEE IT AGAIN SOON ENOUGH. DO SAY HELLO TO THAT SKIRT-WEARING FRIEND OF YOURS. I AM CERTAIN SHE WILL BE GLAD TO SEE YOU.
Mark looked down and saw the thin blue line connecting himself with... well, himself. As Death cut it, and Mark started to fade, for a milli-second, Mark thought he saw one of the lights in Death's eye socket blink, and the last thing he heard, before a door loomed in his face, was three words. THAT'S ALL FOLKS.
He fell to the ground, wincing, and clutching his bag. If he could only crawl to the door halfway down the alley, he could get to the bar. And there had to be someone there who could help. They'd helped before. Before he could get any further, however, he suddenly felt lighter, standing up.
YOU'RE NOT GOING TO GET FAR TRYING THAT, YOU KNOW. A voice came to Mark's ears, and he turned, only to see what was seemingly impossible. A tall, thin, skeletal figure in a black robe with shining blue eyes.
"Wait. You're Death. The one from Discworld. What the hell're you doing in my world?" Mark stared, finally managing a glance down to his feet. He was lying at his own feet. And then it hit him, just as Death spoke.
I AM HERE BY WHAT YOU HUMANS CALL A 'SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT' Death stood there, almost amusedly.
Mark stares. "I need to get film of this." He leans over, and his hands pass through his bag airily. "Damnit. I need that camera."
THERE IS ANOTHER SAYING YOU HUMANS HAVE. 'YOU CAN'T TAKE IT WITH YOU'. Death pulled out the scythe. WHERE YOU'RE GOING, YOU WILL SEE IT AGAIN SOON ENOUGH. DO SAY HELLO TO THAT SKIRT-WEARING FRIEND OF YOURS. I AM CERTAIN SHE WILL BE GLAD TO SEE YOU.
Mark looked down and saw the thin blue line connecting himself with... well, himself. As Death cut it, and Mark started to fade, for a milli-second, Mark thought he saw one of the lights in Death's eye socket blink, and the last thing he heard, before a door loomed in his face, was three words. THAT'S ALL FOLKS.
