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Writing My Mini-Anthology


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In order to save space in this part of the forum, I'm going to write all of my little works in this one thread from now on. I'll try to update this at least once every week.

[SIZE=2][B]Now Playing:[/B][/SIZE]
1. Pyschopomp

[SIZE=2][B]Coming Soon:[/B][/SIZE]
2. Sweet Columbine
3. Legacy of the Panda Shark ([I]Revised Edition[/I])




"No! Please, God, no! Don't kill me! Please!" There was an attractive, physically fit 23-year old man backed into a corner, weeping and pleading for his life. His name is Thomas Ingleman, and he's a client of mine. He's not aware of this fact yet, which explains his currently pitiful nature. I'll fill him in on the details after he quits whining. That's the only way to deal with people who can't accept their death.

Suddenly he starts screaming, "I won't let you take me! I'll kill you first!" Guess he's a little bit hostile now. Thomas comes at me swinging his fist. I sidestep the assault and let him stumble before he turns to try again. This time I let the poor guy land a good one, a left hook right into my jaw. If only I could see the look of surprise on his face when it passes right through my face!

It's a strange feeling when things like that happen. The best way I know to describe it would be as if my body was made of water. I feel the punch but it doesn't physically hurt. It just sorta displaces my body.

Thomas draws back and I recover my sight. He's too shocked to say anything, so he just stands there with his mouth hanging open. "Are you finally done, Mr. Ingleman?" I ask. He doesn't answer. "Good enough. Come on now, out to the car." He nods dumbly as I grab his shoulder an lead him outside the house. Parked out front is an everyday hearse. I can't help but smile when Tommy here moans at the sight of it.

"Do. . . do I have to?" he pleads again.


"But why? I'm in perfect health, there's nothing wrong with me. Why are you killing me now?"

I sigh and try to find my keys. "I'm not killing you Mr. Ingleman. You died four days ago after ingesting an ungodly amount of beer. It was your alcoholism that killed you. My job is to transport you to our local office for processing. Ah, there we are." Thomas is knocked speechless again while I unlock the passenger door manually. "In you go Mr. Ingleman. There are other dead people who need taxiing."

He climbs in without further arguement. After I manage to get in the driver's seat we take off. Unfortunately, Thomas is the last soul on my route today, so I have no choice but to return to the office with him. I park the hearse off to the side of the main building. When we get inside we find a woman in thick glasses sitting behind the desk. "Thomas Ingleman?" she inquires. I nod and she points to a door on her right. Looking terrified he passes through it onto a hallway.

I'm not allowed to pass by that particular door, but I always crane my neck to see what's on the other side. All I've ever seen is a long hallway with white floor and ceiling tiles and white plaster walls. My coworkers say that everyone gets to go down that hallway once. Wow, really? I would've never guessed that.

Seeing's how today's not Friday, and thus I can't collect my salary, I pass through the door on the left of the secretary. Three doors down on the right is the locker room. I remove the heavy black cloak and place my scythe on a rack at the front. The cloak's so large that I can wear my normal clothes underneath, so there's no need to dress out. Showering can wait 'til the morning when I have to get ready for school again. I go outside and climb in my '05 Ford truck and drive home.

Life's not so tough as a Grim Reaper. Sucks that no one's ever happy to see you though.
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  • 2 weeks later...
[size=1][color=#8B008B]This was an interesting take on the Grim Reaper; instead of making it the stereotypical reaping of souls, you made it into an office day. It really brought another viewpoint for me.

As much as I liked the story, there is something that I would like the point out. At the beginning of the story, you started off in past tense but switched it to present at about the second sentence. From then on, you switched from past tense to present tense, though kept most of it present.

This is something you want to avoid as it brings about confusion to the readers. It's good to choose a tense and stick with it, rather than jumping back and forth from one tense to the other.

Other than that, the story was quite interesting.[/size][/color]
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  • 4 weeks later...

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