Road of No Release
I AM DEATH
I hate my job. I really do. It's always the same, always hurts, and never gets any easier to do. I suppose I should introduce myself. I have many names across many tongues, but the name most often used by the creatures of Equestria and the rest of this world is Death. Yes, that's right, DEATH. My job is to kill creatures; ponies, griffons, dragons and so on, and ferry their souls to the other side. I myself do not know exactly what comes after this life; I wasn't given much information when I was created, only my purpose. The only thing I only know for certain is that someday when I am no longer needed I shall join all the souls I have harvested.
I don't know if I want to though. To face all those whose lives I've ruined, taken. If I can choose I think I will ask for sweet oblivion. I know it's more than I deserve.
Today I have several jobs to do, several hundred in fact. When the world was young I hardly had any work, but as the planet's population grew and grew so too did my workload. I thought being so busy would help alleviate my pain, not give me time to process it. I was wrong.
My first job today is in Stalliongrad. I hate coming here. Life is already hard enough for these industrious ponies without my help. The city is a cold place, snow swirls around constantly and the fields barely produce any food in the short growing season. The silver mines are the lifeblood of the town, but also the ball and chain to those living here. Long ago greedy ponies set up the city despite it being out of Princess Celestia's range of power, but for the silver they scorned the pleas of their benevolent ruler to return. Needless to say I've been busy here ever since.
I glide over the frigid city looking for my target. There are few buildings but they are tall and many ponies live in them. I see an imposing block of concrete ahead and float through the snowy storm towards it. I quietly glide through the walls of the sad, grey shell into the fifth floor. Why do I have such a large heart? Why has it not frozen over like this town and hardened to the guilt?
Before me is a small grey room. The residents have tried in vain to liven it up with some faded paintings, and sagging pieces of furniture that even new must have been cheap. In the middle of the room is a bed containing a blue colt with a green mane, both greyed and stained with soot and grime. He doesn't look very old but his half open eyes are clouded and his coughs echo off the hard walls. His wife, two small children, and a few friends are gathered around him. All faces in the room are sullen, most filled with tears. The children huddle together weeping, unable to understand why this tragedy has befallen them. I sympathize but can't answer that question myself. I do not make the rules, I only carry them out.
I move in closer and put a bony hoof over the battered colt, unseen by the others in the room. He is an earth pony and I can tell from his strong frame and dirty appearance that he has done hard labour in the mines. Through my hoof I can sense the disease inside him, killing him. Unrelenting work has helped the disease spread quickly, a stubborn attitude had kept it hidden from his loved ones, and a low income has prevented him from getting the medical care that would have saved his life. From me.
My hoof hovers above his once mighty form, now withered from illness, hesitant to do the deed I came here to do. I always make this more difficult for myself. I can never just get the job over with; I always have to take my time. I can never just come in, not look around, not see why they are dying, and just kill them and lead them on. I don't know why I do this to myself. Curiosity? Shame? Masochism? Maybe it's the fact that I would find it unfair to them to be so cold, to treat them as nothing but dirt I have to shovel into the next life. Regardless of the reason though I always do my job and I always hurt myself over it.
I finally control my shaking hoof and touch the colt gently on his chest over his heart. I can see his body relax; hear his last breath escape his lungs. Suddenly a translucent copy of the colt, clean and looking fresh and strong sits up on the bed. Only I can see him, and only se can see me.
"What's going on? Who are you?" He asks, then realizing no one else has noticed him sitting up he continues. "Why can't they see me?"
I only look at him, expressionless. I hate it when they ask questions. Some ponies know exactly what's going on and accept it with silence and grace. Most however ask me who I am, how they died, and worst of all, why, as if expecting me to know the answers.
"You are dead and I am Death. I am here to take your soul to the other side." I sombrely quote my tired explanation.
He gasps and tries to get up to get away from me. I seem to have that effect. I understand though. In appearance I am a simple earth pony, for I need neither wings nor a horn to do my job. My fur is black as midnight as is my dishevelled mane. My face is gaunt and two white eyes rest there. My skin stretches over the bones of my body, giving me a sickly look. I used to be beautiful once, at the beginning, and ponies would marvel upon seeing me, but now they fear me. It is appropriate. I also now wear an ash grey travelling cloak which I use to cover my bony ribs and legs, not for warmth, just to alarm my wards less.
"Do not try to run; this is the natural order of things. You must come with me now." I say my rehearsed lines to the fearful pony. He calms down at my saying this, I am glad my voice has this power. His face now becomes dour as he looks around at all the ponies who have come to see him off.
"I..." he starts, choking up. "I wasn't ready. I still had my children to look after, my wife..." He stops, unable to go on through the tears running down his cheeks. After a few seconds he manages to stutter "M-may I h-have a m-minute to say g-g-goodbye?"
I need to go. He is only the first stop in a long list for today. I have a tight schedule to keep, but I can never say no. If they ask I always let them have a few minutes. "You may say your farewell, but tarry not for time is short." He smiles weakly, gratefully, as she turns to each of his friends and family and says his last words to them.
I back into the corner, I do not listen. His words are not meant for me, even though now I am the only one who can hear them. His friends and family have noticed his departure and now begins the mourning. Sometimes I'm lucky and they die alone and sometimes I can leave before they notice. Most often though I have to suffer through the wails of agony and despair of those around as they grieve. After a few minutes the blue colt with the green mane trots over to me. I hold out my hoof which he grabs and the apartment around us dissolves as we head to the gate.
I cannot describe the portal to you, it is beyond mortal comprehension. It is set in the midst of a field of white roses with an ivory path leading up to it, and that is all I can say.
I stand back at the end of the path as the blue colt walks towards the gate. A blazing white alicorn with a gold mane greets him. As always he speaks to the colt as he has all the others who pass by him. Whatever he says it always cheers them up. Even from behind and far away I can see the colt is happy now, radiating pure joy. I do not belong here.
As always as I slink away the gatekeeper motions for me to come to him, to talk to him. As always I shake my head. I'm sure whatever he has to say would help lighten the load of my burden, but I do not wish for him to do so. If I did it would...remove the gravity of my position. Make it routine. As much as I wish for the pain to be gone, I won't let it go. It would be disrespectful.
I turn my head to see the blue colt disappear through the gates as the alicorn watches him go, smiling. I do not look back again as I leave.
I hate my job.
____________________________________________________________________
I am back in the mortal realm, back on the job. My next assignment will take me to Manecouver, on the fertile western coast of Equestria. As usual it is raining in the big city, they grey skies seem to herald my arrival.
Because of the almost constant downpour maintained here the trees grow large, as they have for millennia. I remember this place when the trees were not larger than a filly, and the ponies lived in huts on the forest floor. Now however they live in the trees themselves, creating massive tree houses that tower over the misty ground below. The only buildings on ground level are the fisheries, ship factories and docks. Massive staircases lead from the ground to the branches above. It is a unique city to say the least.
The part of me that can still feel some amount of happiness enjoys coming here. The pitter-patter of rain is always soothing, be it a light drizzle or a torrential downpour. The trees themselves are hundreds of feet high, and I love descending through the canopy of dark green foliage. Then I come to the houses and my cheer fades as I'm reminded of my job.
I silently drift through the trees as I come to my target. It is a giant cylindrical tree house that hugs the trunk almost all the way to the bottom of the tree. A large red "H" is emblazoned on the side of the wood building. It is a hospital.
I float through the walls of the hospital somewhere near the top and enter a hallway. Despite its natural appearance on the outside it is stark white and clean inside. Magically enchanted balls of white light dot the ceiling keeping it constantly lit. I glide towards the unit marked "Obstetrics".
I know what the word means but hope that my target is not who I think it is. My assignments are always clear on exactly who I have to kill and exactly where. I always ignore the "who" though, that way I don't stew on whose life I'm about to take. Whenever I reach the destination I just instinctively know who it is, and I've never been wrong. But as I enter the patient room I wish I was.
A young, pale green mare with a yellow mane is lying asleep on the bed. He breathing is weak and she is sweating profusely. A doctor in a white lab coat brushes through me as I enter, exiting the room. In the corner of the room a dark green colt is sitting on a chair, his head tilted to one side. He snores quietly.
But none of them are my goal. No, the small, frail blue-green baby pony wrapped up in her mother's weak arms is. I curse myself, curse myself hard.
The baby is small; she must have been born too early. Thanks to modern medicine this rarely happens, and even more rarely results in the sad conclusion this poor soul is about to face.
The baby breathes in weakly, struggling to draw in breath. I wish I could wake the parents, tell them what I have to do. Tell them to say their goodbyes now. But I can't. I never can.
I lean in close and raise my hoof. My hoof is hovering inches in front of her tiny chest. DO IT, DO IT NOW! I scream at myself. But I just can't bring myself to do this. I've taken babies before, but never one so young, never one so weak. It's unfair. I back away and scream in anguish, a cry none can hear.
Or so I thought.
The young infant opens her eyes sleepily and looks directly at me. She has no fear of my frightening visage, no comprehension of who I am or the reprehensible act I must commit.
This sometimes happens. There are rare cases where someone can see and hear me. Very special, rare cases. I never quite know what to do. This is no exception.
She continues to stare at me as I move closer. I now have tears in my eyes, something that hasn't happened to me for hundreds of years. Even in the worst of situations I am able to keep my professional stature; it would not do for an already scared and confused creature to see me just as torn up as they are.
But this.
I lean in close and raise my trembling hoof again. I have to do this. If I can't then I will never be able to do my job again. I try to remind myself of the natural order of things, that death is as normal as life. It is something I often hear distraught ponies tell each other, and although it rings hollow for me, the reaper, it works in getting me back to do my duty.
I look at each of the three members of the room in turn. "I'm so sorry for taking your baby away from you two." I say to the new parents who still slumber blissfully unaware of the impending tragedy. I look at the baby who has now rejoined her parents in slumber. "And I'm especially sorry to you. I wish-" I break off, unable to say the words. Instead I slowly inch my hoof forward and touch the infant's barely moving chest and the life rushes out of her.
I gently pick up the soul of the newborn with my mouth by the pink blanket lovingly wrapped around her. She coos gently as she once again wakens. I take one last look around the room. Soon the doctor will return and the parents will know of their loss. But I will not be there. I turn away, ashamed.
Already I am back in the field of white roses before the portal. This time however I walk up the gatekeeper as I carry the defenceless infant. He smiles at me, a sad smile full of empathy as I lay the child down at his hooves.
He can plainly see the grief on my face, the tears tracing themselves down my cheeks. "Please, let me help you bear this burden." He pleads, speaking the first words I have heard out of his mouth in over a thousand years. I shake my head again and turn around.
At the end of the path I hear him shout "We will take good care of her! Don't despair!" I quickly spirit myself away before he has the chance to say anymore.
________________________________________________________________________________
It has been a long and terrible day. Not that I ever have a good day, but some are less painful than others. This however has been the worst day of my existence.
The rest of my list was tragic and terrible. Today I've split up families, torn friends away from each other, left a town bereft of its beloved leader, and even taken the soul of a young colt to the portal who wasn't even old enough to have his cutie mark. Nothing however could match what I had done to the newborn and its family.
Through every assignment today I kept thinking of her and her parents. I kept wondering what they'd do now that she was gone, and how the baby would be raised in the world through the portal. I wondered if the parents had even named her yet. I had taken to calling her Evergreen, since her color was the only thing I knew about her.
I had slogged through the day, each life harder and harder to take. I seriously considered just stopping. I know I fill an important role, but surely those who made me can make another to take my place. Maybe he will handle my post better than I. Then I can finally melt into the black nothingness of oblivion.
Throughout the day the gatekeeper had made a greater attempt to talk to me than usual, and I had made a greater attempt than usual to ignore him. It's getting harder to avoid him though, I believe he senses what I'm thinking. He probably is just trying to make me stay.
But this is my last job for the day. Maybe my last job ever, I haven't decided. I will finish today and go home to think and rest. Even I have to rest and gather strength for the next day, if there is a next day.
The sun is setting over the land as I consult my list one last time and see the name of my last stop. Ponyville. It is a small town in the heart of Equestria. The majestic city of Canterlot towers above it in the distance where Princess Celestia and her sister Luna reign. I've often seen the two of them during my travels. I've taken their guards, court members, and friends. They can see me, I know they can; we've never talked however. I don't know what they think of me. Perhaps they fear me? Death is a strange concept to them though they've seen it many times. Having lived so long though death must seem such an alien concept. But I know one day I will escort them both to the gate, at the end.
Or maybe I won't.
I tear my mind away from thoughts of the sisters and fly down to the town. From above the town is a patchwork quilt of unique and colourful houses and shops. I can see a library in a tree, a bakery that looks like a gingerbread house, and a boutique that looks like a circus tent. Off in the distance I spy a floating house all made of clouds, and a tree house surrounded by animal pens and pastures on the edge of a dark forest.
But none of these places are my destination. Instead I head away from the town to an orchard on the horizon. I can see in the fading light the words "Sweet Apple Acres" painted in white on a red sign hanging above the farm entrance. Hundreds of apple trees surround the farm which consists of a barn, several chicken coops and a well. I can see a light on in one of the top windows of the barn and I know that is where I must go.
I enter the room, unnoticed as always. I can see a scene before me I've had the misfortune to see many times before. I decide to look around the room to take my mind off my work.
The room is brightly colored, its walls striped with green and red wallpaper. Dozens of photos hang on the walls, many of them in black and white or sepia tone. I can see in most of them a happy young mare, either surrounded by family, friends, or hard at work on the farm. The newer pictures turn to color and I can see the mare is a slightly faded yellow green with an alabaster white mane.
Through the pictures I can see the young mare grow older, her once long braided mane now cut shorter, now tied in a bun. The number of family members grows and grows through each passing family reunion photo. Though I don't recall all the lives I've ended I recognize a few faces in the crowd. All the ponies in the photos are happy though. They are in stark contrast to the ponies in the room now.
Around the bed in the center of the room sit three ponies. A large fire wagon red stallion with an orange mane is standing next to a smaller orange mare wearing a felt trail blazer hat. Beside them both is a tiny filly with a yellow coat and a mane that matches the color of the large stallion's fur. All wear varying degrees of sadness on their faces, from the stallion who is trying to keep his composure in front of the others, to the mare with tears in her eyes, to the filly who is unashamedly crying her eyes out. All three stand around the bed which holds the green mare with the white hair, looking quite a bit older than in even the most recent photos I had looked at.
The green mare seems quite tranquil despite her haggard appearance. She is my target and soon I will lead her soul onwards, but if this is to be my last job I may stay a little bit longer and see what they have to say. As stated before I usually don't intrude on private moments like these as it is not my place to hear what they have to say, but today I feel like breaking with tradition.
"But, but why d-do you have to g-go?" The young filly stammers to the older pony while crying. The orange one puts a comforting leg over the younger and pulls her close.
"Don't cry sweetie, and don't feel bad for me. I'm going to a far better place." The old pony responds kindly.
"Wh-what are we g-gunna do without you Granny Smith?" The filly asks again, looking for guidance from the old pony.
"I will be alive in you as long as you hold onto the memories of me." She smiles at what I assume is her granddaughter. I am listening to her words intently. I rarely see ponies, or any creature, face death so serenely. Most go out trying to fight me, or blubbering in fear of the unknown. This mare fascinates me. She speaks again.
"Now Big Mac, you've been doing a fantastic job of taking care of this farm since your parents passed away, and I've saved up some bits to help lighten the load once I'm gone. It's in the top drawer of my dresser." The one she called Big Mac gives a weak smile and heads over to the dresser. He finds a bag and looks at the coins inside.
"This...this is so much!" He says, his stoic grief replaced by amazement.
"I know, I've been savin' it fer years now in case we needed emergency money. I now give it to you. Take good care of this farm and your sisters." She says smiling at her grandson. He just nods solemnly in return and the tears he has been holding back flow freely. Next Granny Smith turns her gaze the orange mare.
"Applejack, you are the hardest working pony I've ever met. Keep doing what yer doing and I know you'll be just fine. Take care of Applebloom" at this the young filly sniffed a little "and make sure she gets a good education." Applejack thanked her for the kind words and encouragement as the old pony's gaze shifts to the youngest of the group.
"Applebloom, stay strong my dear. Live life to the fullest like I have, through the good and the bad. And always follow your passions no matter what. I'm sure you'll get your cutie mark real soon." Granny Smith finishes and rubs the filly on the head affectionately. I can see her eyes close and her breathing steady as she waits for the end. Applejack takes off her hat and holds it respectfully in with her hoof.
I can tell my time has come and step up the old grandmother. For the first time I find I feel no hesitation as I place my hoof over her chest. I gently tap it and step back. After a few seconds the green mare sits up and looks around at the crying faces of her family. Finally her gaze rests on me.
"Are you the reaper?" She asks me without a hint of fear in her voice. "Yes, I am Death and you are dead." I reply in my usual professional tone.
"Heh, well that's obvious. I haven't felt this good in years!" She exclaims, catching me off guard. No one is usually this cheerful.
She looks down at her newly rejuvenated body, looking just as she did in her prime. She gets off the bed and trots over to me. "You however don't look so good." She remarks to me, studying me closely. "Are you well?"
Again this pony has caught me off guard. Often ponies remark on my ghoulish appearance, but never has one asked about my well being.
"I'm fine; this is just my normal appearance." I say trying to keep calm and expressionless.
Suddenly she bursts out laughing, I move back a little involuntarily. "Now don't try to lie to me. I've had five children, ten nieces and nephews, and more grandchildren than I can count. I can spot a liar!" She says to me emphatically. Now I'm starting to get annoyed at this pony, a new experience for me.
"I am not a child; I am thousands of years old! Do not assume that you can judge me as such!" I say rather more indignantly and forcefully than I meant to.
"You may be thousands of years old, but you sure are acting like a child." She again smiles that infuriating smile. But she has a point I must confess. Despite my age I have never had any prolonged social interaction with anyone. In that area I am still unaccustomed. When I do not argue against her point she continues.
"Now why don't you just tell me what's on yer mind!" She asks. I consider her point carefully. Why don't I tell her what's wrong? If this is to be my last job, possibly my last day alive, it would be nice to finally have someone to talk to before the end.
"You are wiser than most of the ponies I've met on my travels." I concede to her. "I am tired and miserable. I hate my job. I hate breaking up families, tearing apart friends, ruining lives. I hate the grief I cause; I hate the never ending parade of death!" I seem to not be able to stop now, my feelings flowing freely as if a rusty valve has been turned in my heart. My voice increases in volume and intensity. "I hate never being able to properly rest, I hate not knowing when my duty will end, I hate how every life taken still hurts me, and I HATE, no, LOATHE myself for every misery I've caused!" I finally end my tirade. Granny Smith seems just as shocked as me by my vehement outburst. I am honestly surprised the mourning ponies behind us, laying the covers over their grandmother's head, can't hear me.
I sigh as I sit down on the floor. For some reason just letting it all out, having someone hear my troubles seems to have relieved a little of the constant pressure on my chest. I bring my white eyes up to look at the earth pony standing in front of me again. She says nothing; I suspect she wasn't expecting me to open up like that. She sits down in front of me, seeming to consider what words she wants to say next. Finally she decides.
"I may not be thousands of years old but I daresay I know a might more about ponies than you." She responds to my outburst. "How many lives do you take a day?" She asks. It seems like a strange question to me but I am curious to see where she is going with it.
"Hundreds. Why do you ask?" I question her.
"And how long do you stick around after you've finished your work?" She continues with her line of questions.
"I don't stay after I've completed my work. I have too many souls to collect. Even when I had time long ago to do so I never did. Why would I want to expose myself to the suffering I cause?" I notice that behind us the siblings have left the room.
"Then stay a while before you take me away. I want to show you something." I consider this then nod in agreement and she gets up. She walks out of the room and I follow her.
We continue down the hall and I can now hear a murmuring sound from down the hallway. When we reach the end she opens a door. The noise gets even louder and I can see stairs leading down to a landing. We descend onto a loft overlooking the interior of the barn.
I don't know what know what I'm looking at.
Below me are dozens of ponies of all ages, colors, and types. The barn is decorated with streamers and ribbons. Tables of food of all kinds are set up and many ponies are enjoying the many and varied apple treats. On the walls of the barn are many of the photos of Granny Smith I saw in her room, but blown up in size. All the ponies are engaged in conversation with each other and laughing with one another. I turn to the old pony.
"What is this? I don't even..." I trail off as I notice an almost offensively pink pony bouncing around the crowd.
"Can't y'all recognize a party when you see one?" Granny Smith asks jokingly.
I look at her confused and ask "A party? Why are they throwing a party? Don't they realize you've just died? Are they celebrating your death?" The old mare laughs at this.
"Of course not silly, they're celebrating my life! All my family and friends threw this party as a final gift to me! I was enjoying it until I realized it was my time and went upstairs to spend my final moments with my closest family." I continue to look at her quizzically.
"Why are you showing me this? What does this prove?" I ask her. She chuckles softly at my lack of understanding and explains.
"You seem to think that all you do is ruin lives. Well look at them down there. Do their lives look destroyed?" The wise pony asks me. I look down again. I can see the three siblings standing in a corner, a large group of friends and family around them. All seem happier than when I last saw them despite still looking a little upset. Even the yellow one, Applebloom, has cheered up considerably and is talking to two other young fillies. One of them tells a joke I can't hear and Applebloom laughs.
"Death is a natural part of life; we've learned to accept that fact. When it happens we don't let it ruin us. We pick up the pieces, and move on, often with the help of our friends. Through hardships we grow stronger. We endure." She finishes then smiles at me, hoping I've understood her message.
I have.
I smile back at her, the first smile I've made since, well, I don't even know if I've ever smiled. "I understand." I say to her, and her smile grows even wider.
"Well finally! I knew you were smarter than you looked!" She jokes. Unbelievable. She is laughing in the face of Death itself as if we were old friends. "Now, I believe we should be moving on." She says, her voice quieter and a little bit graver.
"Yes we should." I agree. I hold out my hoof as I have to so many before, and as I will for so many yet to come, and she grabs on to it. The barn begins to dissolve as a field of white roses with an ivory path leading to a portal takes its place.
This time I walk towards the portal together with my ward. The gatekeeper smiles at us both. He and Granny Smith exchange a few words which I won't repeat here; it's not your place to know them, and then walks up to the portal, ready to cross over.
"Thank you." I say simply. She looks back at me and smiles, then steps through.
I look at the gatekeeper. He smiles at me, and I smile at him. There is no need for words. I turn around and head back for home.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
It has been several years since I gained purpose to my life. I still do not like my job, but I do not hate it anymore. I do not hate myself anymore. I have returned to my old self. I look sleek and young again, healthy and strong. All creatures gaze at me in wonder again instead of fear, and now I don't mind that anymore. I try to be as comforting as possible now, no longer the severe professional.
My workload has not slowed down; it has only increased, as it ever has. I still however let all my charges take their time in saying goodbye if they wish to.
The gatekeeper and I still rarely talk, but not because of resentment. We don't need to talk. We understand each other perfectly well.
I wish sometimes I could see the little pony Evergreen, but I cannot go beyond the portal and neither can she. But I do visit her parents sometimes after I've finished my work. They now have another baby, a healthy filly who is green like her sister and parents. Her name is Red wood on account of her red mane. It makes me happy to see them moving on with their lives.
I am happy I have finally learned to move on with mine.
My questions still remain. What lies on the other side of the portal, when will I get to step through? But they are less pressing, I can wait.
I am Death.
Author's Notes: Wow, this was a really hard piece to write. I had the idea after watching the new (at time of writing) episode with Granny Smith. I sat down and wrote this in just a few hours, meaning for this to be just something to sharpen my teeth on. Holy crap did this grow though. I'm quite proud to say the least, especially as this is my first fic. I must say the middle part was hard to get through though. Sorry if I made you cry, but that's what I was going for. I decided to write in First person present tense so as to get a natural stream of conscious even if it was really awkward for me at first.
ALSO, before anyone says anything YES I did kinda steal this idea to narrate from death's perspective from THE BOOK THIEF. Hopefully however my style is different enough to have added to that concept rather than just be a copy.
Hope you enjoyed this, my first fic. Please don't hold back on critiques, but be nice. Also I am my own editor so point out anything I missed.
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Great fic, intruging to say the least. I noticed somewhere in the beginning is a point instead of a question mark.
after a quick search, I've found it:
Why has it not frozen over like this town and hardened to the guilt.
119556
Thanks for noticing that, I'll fix it right away. And thanks for reading!
I really enjoyed this story. It's interesting to see the Reaper Pony contemplate things and feel bad about what he is. But it's also nice to see him able to continue on with his job, even if it is one he'd rather not do. The Gatekeeper was a nice touch too, always trying to reach out and ease Death's burden but having Granny Smith do it was a much better idea :).
I know this is a one shot story, but I'd enjoy reading about your Pony version of Death again. Perhaps in different time periods or maybe when he has the unfortunate task of Reaping one of the Celestial sisters. Would also be curious to know if he reaped Nightmare Moon's soul? would she count as a spirit? Gah I'm over-analysing this brilliant story
.
Anyway's just a few ideas I thought I'd throw out there. Watching you now and hoping for more stories by you Ravenwood
Meh
Simply put, a joy to read.
This... this is good. I like the style and idea of other-wordly forces, especially since it is something we already know of.
You, sir, have earned 5 stars and a watch.
It's a nice short story, I can give you that.
Solid and well conceived. Good job!
very good, wish you could have continued it
119643
Thanks for the compliments dude, it made my day. I am currently writing something and did this just spur of the moment, meaning it to be a one off, but you've given me some ideas. Maybe I'll do more with Death.
And thanks to everyone else who commented and read
Truly astonishing work, and the first since I've read 'To be an Alicorn' I've teared up on, and I read that when it came out.
I'm now going to go play some robot action game with guns and explosions to replenish my masculinity for I do believe crying over a fanfiction of ponies does not put many points in my direction.
TL;DR:
;~;
I like this saying:
"Don't cry because good times are gone; laugh because they happened."
This is giving me Steed Reaper flashbacks. Did you take the concept from chapter 5 of "My little evil tales" by any chance?
The book thief was on my summer reading list. I honestly think this was written better than the book. I have no reason to lie to you.
I think this is very well-written! Great job!
120835
No, I've never read that fic but I'll check it out. As I stated in the Author Notes I took the idea from a book called "The Book Thief" which is narated by the Grim Reaper during WW2. (awesome book btw, go read it)
120881
Wow, thanks for the compliment. I liked that book a lot so that means loads to me.
Good read, I enjoyed it thoroughly!
Fantastic.
great read, can't wait for more!
no words can express how i feel........
well done and continue on with your writing
121076
Typos? In my fic? LIES! Oh well, blame my editor...oh wait, that's me. CURSES!
Damn. This is the first time in a fairly long while that I've teared up as hard as I did reading fan fics. (I had to stop reading for a minute to go find a box of tissue paper so I could continue breathing...)
You get all the Fluttercry/sad's:
You also get all the Flutteryay's for being epic:
(Previous post emotefailed)
Damn. This is the first time in a fairly long while that I've teared up as hard as I did reading fan fics. (I had to stop reading for a minute to go find a box of tissue paper so I could continue breathing...)
You get all the Fluttercry/sad's:
You also get all the Flutteryay's for being epic:
Wish there were more like this. Twas a great read.
Also, "He and Granny Smith exchange a few words which I won't repeat here; it's not your place to know them, and then walks up to the portal, ready to cross over." I really like how realisticly death-like you made it, if that makes any sense.
Excellent work!
I've been haunted and scared for the past half-year about death, and I'm only 19. It's sad that I'm facing this now...it's much too early. Thank you though, after reading this I feel as though I can sleep tonight.
Thank you so much.
pcmedia.gamespy.com/pc/image/article/969/969431/team-fortress-2-20090403042617913.jpg
Be polite. Be efficient. Have a plan to kill everyone you meet!
My... another reaper pony story?
I feel unoriginal now.
But ow well, it goes a totaly different course than my very long and gory tale.
Was a nice read. Good style.
And if I got you curious, look for Maledictum Insania.
Raven, That was simply amazing. I dont even know you and im proud of you. This is one of the best fics I have read on this site. Its brilliant. I would love to see more from you. Im definatly going to keep an eye on you my friend.
121126
Thanks man! To be honest I had trouble even writing certain parts, had to push myself through.
121226
Glad I could help good sir!
121437
Thank you for the compliment, I hope I can live up to everyone's expectations with my next stories.
Wow simply amazing, people have different perspectives on life like Death and Granny Smith and I truly agree, it's not how you die, it's how you live and when I said that I felt sad for EverGreen knowing that she didn't have a life to live
Thanks for this wonderful story I hope you continue though, I tracked just in case
amazing wonderful story! but a little weird as you played with tenses a bit
Nonetheless, very emotional and awesome story.
Manly tears have been shed.
I read this last night but didn't have time to type a response, you sir have earned a watcher. This story was pure gold, bravo!
This was a very beautiful story and a rather interesting one.
Have a good one.
Aww man, i was gonna write a story about Death. But you beat me to it. And did a fine job writing it
121847
The tenses was really weird to write too. Often I'd find myself slipping into past tense, and have to rewrite a hole paragraph. Also, glad to hear my story is evoking such strong emotions!
hey im glad to find someone besides me who liked 'THE BOOK THIEF' i mean it was an awsome book but your the first person iv met to actually mention it and after the first paregraph i was instantly reminded of the book thief
Is this anything like Near Death Experience for anypony who's read it?
MOAR!!
Dark my ass, this is the happiestnthing I've seen yet.
I thoroughly enjoyed the concept of Death learning a life-changing lesson, and it's one that we can all learn!
Such a good story, I think I'll share it with my non-brony friends (fingers crossed!)
Loved it, Raven. 5 stars. I hope you write more, even if it isn't Death.
122384
I actually considered that for the title, but decided to go for a shorter title instead. I like that quote though.
122580
It IS a fantastic book. I like that author's style of writing and storytelling. It's very unique.
123008
Maybe....
123204
actually if I remember correctly that death quote was worded slightly difrently and was from the Creator of the atomic / nuclear bomb
you did a great job with this. seriously. i have led the life of a general crybaby (nothing serious, just got bullied a lot), and while I don't cry at all anymore this fic had seriously came close to making me cry.
also, as a side note the narrative is perfect. i never thought to look at death in these fics the way you portrayed him. keep up the good work!
Interesting. But I got to ask how did you make that Reaper pony for the cover of this story?
Clap, clap, clap.
Well done, I enjoyed reading this, and not just because it had Death in it, but because it has a very true moral. What those Ponies did was awesome, and I was told that if my Mother died, she expected a Party, not a Funeral. Your portrayal of Death was good, and his emotions were believable. I mean, killing hundreds of ponies every day for... god knows how long must break you down, or something.
One thing though, this didn't make me tear up or feel sad, didn't make me feel anything, really. Except a massive urge to write this comment, give the Fic five stars and proceed to stalk, I mean, Watch you. x3
I really did love this story, the only improvement I could see would be for you to make it sadder. Forgive me everypony for bringing this up, but My Little Dashie did it somehow, but I think it's just me being able to relate to Dash's emotions, or Dad's, I guess.
+ 10 Respect, 5 Stars and a Watch. Sweet job!
- Dark Star
I cried! I had to stop reading to clear my eyes.
You sir, are
AMAZING!
Discworld.
Read that before even trying to make a proper Death character. (And no, it's not a fanfiction. And pretty human.)
Well, that was OK anyway. 4 stars.
123590
I am a TERRIBLE artist so I used the Pony Creator on Deviant Art. It's a really awesome tool, but I'd like to replace the cover someday with actual art.
123695
I plan to have more out in the next week or two. I think also with My Little Dashie the author did a really good job of creating emotional connections to the characters. I hope to create that same kind of bond for stories to come.
Thanks for the compliment and thanks for the watch!
Brilliant... It's sheer brilliance...