This week on Trifecta, the word was
1a : a permanent cessation of all vital functions : the end of life
b : an instance of dying disease causing many deaths>
2a : the cause or occasion of loss of life
b : a cause of ruin <the slander that was death to my character — Wilkie Collins
3 capitalized : the destroyer of life represented usually as a skeleton with a scythe
I figured, with a prompt like that, how could I not dust off my imagination, stretch out my fingers and jump back into writing again. Some of the other responses I’ve read so far are amazing – you should check them out, or submit your own!
This piece of art is called “The Playground Called Life”, and it’s a photomanipulation. The artist’s name is Michael Vincent Manalo, and he’s from Manila, in the Phillippines. All his artwork has a great surreal “There’s a cool story behind this” feel to it. Check him out on DeviantART or at his website.
Nick gazed over his teacher’s shoulder at the dark figure at the front of the bus.
“We should postpone the trip. Looks like rain.”
“Take a seat, Mr. Ryan”
He took a seat next to a preppy-looking blonde, dread twisting his stomach. I only lasted three days at this school, he thought, sourly.
Shadow shrouded the girl to the point that Nick couldn’t see her.
DID YOU HAVE AN ENJOYABLE THANKSGIVING, NICHOLAS?
Nick glared. The girl narrowed her eyes at him and snapped, “What?”
Why are you doing this?
I BEAR WITNESS FOR THESE OCCASIONS, NICHOLAS, I DO NOT CAUSE THEM. I REGRET THAT YOU ARE HERE TODAY.
Nick laughed bitterly. His seatmate pressed herself back against the window.
IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN.
“Yeah, well, the feeling isn’t mutual.” The shadowy presence flickered briefly, And Nick found himself glaring at a girl whose presence he’d forgotten. He blushed. Said it aloud. Again. Awesome.
Nick could feel the grains of sand slipping one by one through the hour-glass.
Death stood, its darkness dissipating like smoke.
HOLD ON TIGHT.
Nick cranked his music up louder and wedged his body in between his seat and the next, knuckles white. Despairing, he called out, “Brace yourselves!”
Last time I move somewhere with cliffs, he vowed.
The bus snapped sideways, and existence narrowed to a roar of terror, crumpled metal and short-lived weightlessness.
Nick relaxed his grip on the seat and dropped to the bus roof. He blinked in surprise when a second metallic thud echoed through the silence. he girl took in the bloodied and crumpled forms of her classmates in mute horror. She couldn’t see Death gently lifting their souls into its embrace.
Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“How are you even alive?” he blurted out.
“Luck? Your timely warning? How did you know what was going to happen?”
Death runs in the family, that’s how.
Warmth and colour seeped back in as Death departed.