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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Deejae HarperFemale/United States Recent Activity
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There weren't How To Guides. Or history books. This phenomenon was as ancient as earth and more secret than a scorned heart.

There was only the guy in the white robe and you. Only you would know.

The night he came to me, he said, "You can pick anything. Mass suicide. Bombing. Orphans dying. Any one event you can change."

I thought how different the world would be. I thought I could stop the Holocaust. God was careful, he outlined the rules. "It can only be in your lifetime."

He told me I had all the time to decide. I could wait years.

But I knew. I knew the moment he promised me the world.

I would have to relive the event, then it would be gone.

Could I do it? Could I relive...

-----

I watched as my mother reached for me in the car, glass shattering around us. The event seared her burning face into my mind.
When I woke, I heard the door open. I was sixteen again.
"Honey. Are you in here?"
The tears began to pour.
Of all the women Death had been set up with, Plague was perhaps the worst. She ate with her mouth open and her black eyes were always looking down at her watch. She clicked away on her phone, talking to a myriad of people.

Pestilence had been determined that his friend meet his sister. Plague was a lovely girl, with black curls and green skin. She was thin and tall. Almost as tall as Death. "You're into skeletal," Pestilence said, grinning lewdly.

"My sister could be a model, you know. Though she might just kill everyone she works with."

Besides her work with rats, Plague hadn't done much in the world since the Bubonic phase she went through. As a hell-dweller, she spend more time helping her friends Cancer spread the stuff around. She was responsible for a lot of small scale things, though her work with Ebola was reaching an all time high.

She just didn't seem to have a will of her own, which bothered Death.

He was a fan of a self-made woman. It was silly, really, but he had almost imagined their children. What horror could they reap. Death's brother, Suicide, had settled down millennial ago with Ana. Their daughter, Bulimia had been a strong presence in the human world since the late 80s. Death wanted that.

He was not getting any younger, though he was not getting older either. Plague was just not his type.

Throwing some jewels onto the table, he rose up, adjusting his billowing robes. He nodded to the barkeep, Alcoholism, and walked out the door.

He stood outside by his pale horse and waited almost fifteen minutes before Plague stormed out of Darkness and summoned a portal back home.

He would hear about this tomorrow when he got together with the Horsemen for their annual dinner date.
Plague
8/18/2014
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Deejae Harper
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
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:iconbreebird:
breebird Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2014  Student Filmographer
Thanks for the watch!!!!
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:iconciele-arts:
Ciele-arts Featured By Owner Jan 24, 2014
Thanks for the watch :hug:
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