She woke in the hospital bleary, ominous words ringing in her ears, to find she was the sole survivor of the crash. The pain of loss, the pain of her damaged body drove them out. Rehabilitation was a long, slow process and learning to walk again took much of her energy. Sometimes while standing in a corridor waiting to catch her breath, the words would recur, echoing in her head, but she learned to ignore them.

In a grief support group, many months later, she tentatively shared them, and the facilitator talked about survivors’ guilt. She knew that the memory of Death’s words had surfaced before she learned the fate of her family, but then it had been a confusing time, drifting in and out of consciousness, heavily drugged, and perhaps her recollection was wrong, so she tried to push the words away. The usually silent young man who was at the group that day caught her eye then whispered “that would make a great premise for a horror novel!” and she was startled into laughing for what seemed like the first time since the accident. After, they bonded over a shared love of cappuccino and fantasy, and agreed that the stubbornly realist facilitator would have been the first to die in a Stephen King book.

And that begins a new story that you all have heard before, the kind that starts with “boy meets girl” and continues with degrees and jobs and marriage, friendship and children, love and loss. Once in a while the words echo in her head, but the indescribable voice that once haunted her grows more indistinct over the years until it is lost completely.

Many years later, she wakes feeling energized, and rises from her bed before her brain catches up to tell her that her once-damaged legs can no longer bear her weight. She turns to see her body still lying in bed, and standing next to it a familiar figure.

“We meet again.” The voice that still seems to consist of a thousand echoes reverberating as one. “Will you plead to return?”

“So you were real.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I’ve had a good life. It’s time. But I need to know… what did you mean last time? What did I do?”

Death’s forbidding figure turns to walk away, and she unthinkingly follows him. “What did you do? You just told me - you lived a good life. Your children had children, and I will reap them all in time. People recovered and lived their own good lives, because you became a therapist who used her experience to nurture empathy. I can hardly count the people who will never know they exist because of you, now and in the years to come. You grew old, and I am reaping a harvest of mature, beloved, fulfilled souls instead of a single sapling.”

She no longer has eyes, but if she did, they would be shining with wonder, with memories of the many tiny ways those words shaped her life. “Oh. Oh, I see… Thank you.”

Oh damn. Death certainly got the return from his investment.

No worries, glad you enjoyed! :)

I was roused by a sudden chill.

The room was black as pitch save for a fog that glowed with a soft pale luminance that clung to the walls and floor. I must have left the window open again. How foolish of me to be so naïve. Letting in the elements this time of year, at the height of winter, I could catch my death.

I went to throw off my covers but realised I could not move. Fear gripped me in its icy clutches. No matter how hard I strained I could spur no movement from my extremities. All but my eyes were frozen solid.

It was deathly silent. Not a peep. One would expect, in such a time of stress, to hear the thundering of one’s own heart fill their ears, but that was oddly absent. I felt no surge within my breast despite the clear panic I was in. There was something awfully wrong.

I glanced down the length of my body and saw not the typical rise and fall of the chest but a smooth flatness that remained stiff as a board. I was not breathing. How then was I still alive?

The realisation to that question struck me so hard I would have gasped had my lungs not already been void of air. I was not alive. I was dead but still conscious.

No sooner than this dawned upon me did I see it. A figure cloaked in a shroud darker than the inkiest blackness of night or the deepest depth of ocean hung at the foot of my bed. A force that disturbed neither me nor the fog caught itself in the cloak. Black fabric wafted as it was gently billowed, almost as if the figure stood upon an open plain, buffeted by a light breeze, and not enclosed within the sturdy walls of my home.

A voice, harsh and grating, issued from behind the veiled cowl, invading not only the dead air of the room around us but also my mind from within, “It is time.”

I needed not ask what the spectre meant for it was obvious. This phantom had come to wrest my soul from my body and take it to the world beyond. A path I was no doubt destined to tread, but I felt my journey was to be cut short if I were to end it now.

“Wait,” I cried, the sound trapped inside my own head but nonetheless audible within the room, “I cannot yet be taken from this world! I am an important man, a scientist, an inventor like my father and his father before him, on the cusp of something great. I cannot afford to depart from this world now, not before my work is complete. So please, oh benevolent spirit, release me from this torment and reap my soul not until my good work is done!”

For a long time the figure remained at the foot of my bed, seemingly it had heard what I said and was undoubtedly considering my request until it again spoke, “I shall grant you this request.”

“Oh thank you,” a heavy weight was lifted off my sunken chest with the news, “thank you very kindly, dearest spirit. I shall endeavour to ensure that you will not regret your generous decision.”

Although I knew nothing of the spirits features, I felt a wave of dread wash over me as, in a tone that could only be accompanied by a sinister grin, it spoke one last time, “Why should I regret letting one soul go when I stand to gain so many more in return?”

I was roused by a sudden start, my heart hammering in my chest, threatening to burst free of my body.

Those parting words of the cloaked figure lingered briefly before all memory of that fateful interaction slowly bled into the shrouded haze of the grey dawning light, lost to the morning nothing more than a fleeting dream.

Had I truly died and been visited by some otherworldly presence, or what is just a matter of anxiety manifesting itself as a result of life’s most recent stresses? The answer to that question matters very little at present for the sun has already risen and I am going to be late.

Shrugging off the drowsiness of a disturbed sleep, I got myself ready in haste for today was a big day. Today is the day we begin introducing my new inexpensive lead-based gasoline additive.

---

If you liked this, you can find more of my writing at r/TheHiveWithUdders.

Basically, if you either start a line with four spaces, or use backticks (these: `) to encase text, the formatting will treat it as program code, which means it'll remove any automatic line breaks due to running out of space on your screen, which is very useful when discussing program code, and extremely unhelpful for any kind of other writing, as you'd have to scroll sideways for however long any sentence (or set of sentences) goes on until you start a new line again, which quickly gets annoying, especially on mobile phones.

As an example of what I'm talking about:

This is what happens if you start a line with four leading spaces.
I can do this for multiple lines, and I only ever get a new line if I  
press  
the  
enter key.  
However, if I start writing and writing without that, and just type out a very long run-on sentence, it quickly becomes unreadable, which is also what happened to your initial post above.

As for the other option to get similar formatting, backticks around textallow you to dump a bit of special formatting right in the middle of text, and both have the added benefit of ignoring all the other special formatting things Reddit usually does, which can be useful under certain circumstances as well.

Mind. Blown.

“What do you mean?” Davien asked. Lord Death began fading into the darkness, his bone-white skeletal face dissolving like salt in water. Only his amber-colored eyes remained, lingering intensely on Davien.

Then, the pain began.

Davien could feel his chest burning, crimson flames fusing into his chest, emitting black smoke. He screamed in agony as a mark branded itself as not his soul. A cold, callous laugh echoed throughout the void.

“You have kept the monster inside for too long. It’s time to let it out, let it howl at that scarlet moon. It’s time for you, Davien Marrick, Heir of Darkness, to become my champion. Arise, Wraith King!”

. . .

Elaina was in disbelief. Davien was alive! He laid in the bed gasping for air, eyes wide with fear. Elaina rushed over to the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed, tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re back.”

“Elaina,” Davien croaked. “Please-“

“Give him some space Your Highness! He just came back to life. Don’t smother him,” Galen said from behind. Elaina stepped aside and wiped the tears off her face. She’s waiting so long to look into her lover’s eyes again. Only…they weren’t entirely his now.

“Davien? Your eyes-“ the iris was crimson instead of the chocolate brown she’s grown to love. She felt his hand push her back, keeping her away.

“I need you and Galen to go. And seal the door behind you!”

“Why?!” Elaina exclaimed. She just got her lover back, there was no way in hell she was going to leave him again. Davien turned to the window, sweat pouring down his face. He was scared, but why?

“Because Death brought me back to kill you.”

I deeply loved the multiple layers of do-you-know-that-I-know-that-you-knew going on in the protagonist's thoughts. It's hard to do that in the space of a short without being unclear but I was able to follow exactly how the levels of deception interacted, which kept my attention rivetted.

they don't honk

sorry. pretty good though

I like the turn in the story, look forward to you expanding the story

Nice twist! Death isn’t a bad guy, he just wants OP to live a long, prosperous life and leave a generation behind once they pass.

Good wholesome Death

Hah! I loved this, the wannabe and TM gave me a good chuckle

Also I want to pat Jerry on the head

Holy shit that's good.

Best response here, but so late it won't get noticed. Not a huge fan of the use of superscript, but the "Sacred Sword^(TM)" is a genius meta bit.

I tend to skip those stories

plot twist: op is actually going to have tons of children who later reproduce then die of old age

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Columbo is a detective show that started in the 60s or 70s. It's kind of unique in that it's almost more from the murderers perspective. The first thing you see is the murder, which usually involved an elaborate plan to fake an alibi or hide evidence or frame someone else.

Despite their careful planning Colombo would always notice one little thing they missed and figure out who the killer is immediately. Then he would basically annoy them into slipping up. The criminal would become increasingly frustrated that this seemingly idiotic detective kept closing in on him. Colombo's signature move was letting the criminal thing they had tricked him with their explanation and leave. Then immediately pop back in saying "just one more thing" and ask them something that opened another hole in their story.

Death note is an anime about a highschool genius that finds a notebook owned by a "shinegami", a sort of Japanese grim reaper. He can kill anyone by writing their name in notebook. He becomes a vigilante and interpol hires a detective to catch him. Most of the show is a cat and mouse game between the two of them.

To kill someone with the deathnote you need to know their real name. It was a running joke that Colombo never said his first name during the whole series. Only people that have touched the death notes can see shinegami. This is the person Colombo is referring to at the end.

"Halt, foul beast! You shall threaten this town no longer!" Yelled the ^wannabe hero. He threatened the 8-foot wolfman now huddled in the corner with his Sacred Sword™, a relic that should light up and sharpen itself when faced with evil.

The ^wannabe hero's Sacred Sword™ was... not doing that. It gleamed with all the light a candle yet to be lit, and was roughly as as sharp as a baseball bat.

Carla sighed and went to stand between the hero and the cowering wolfman, she drew herself up to her (unimpressive) height, pushed a stray hair that had escaped her tight hair bun out of her face, with her 'Manager' name tag displayed on the front of her uniform.

"Sir, this is a Wendy's," Carla said as she put her fists on her hips. "Pack up and go home before I call the cops."

The ^wannabe hero sputtered, "But, but, it's a monster!"

The wolfman's ears somehow managed to press even flatter against his head, and Carla could hear a very quiet whine.

"I'm doi-"

"YOUNG MAN," Carla's voice cracked the air like a whip, "That is quite enough out of you. You will leave my establishment at once. I will not allow you to treat people in my establishment like this, if you are looking for an easy mark for your first quest you picked the wrong restaurant."

The ^wannabe hero didn't understand why he was so afraid of this tiny middle-aged woman. But afraid he was, and he slowly lowered his Sacred Sword™ with a bewildered look on his face.

Carla glared at him, "Is this what they're teaching at that worthless Hero Academy these days? To make assumptions based on appearance? To threaten innocent people because you didn't do your research and gotten your facts straight first? Shame on you!"

The ^wannabe hero shrunk in on himself, then mumbled a quick apology and slunk away.

Carla sighed as she placed a hand on Jerry's shoulder where he still sat against the wall. "I'm sorry, I-"

She stopped as Jerry spoke up, "I can't do this anymore, I can't, I can't." He broke off as tears started choking his voice. He reached for Carla, who hugged him back. Her own face was crumpled in sorrow. For some time they sat like that.

"I'm here. I'm here. I'll always be here for you." Carla murmured softly to Jerry. She wished she could say it was okay, that everything would be okay someday, but she couldn't. It wasn't okay, and she didn't know if things would get better. A world with real magic and real monsters, and this is what people waste their energy on.

This wasn't the last time a would-be hero came to pick a fight, but several months later when Carla got hurt by a hero who decided he didn't need a sharp sword since a club worked perfectly fine, they took the settlement money and moved to the borderlands, where it was safer to be different.

Surprisingly, the ^wannabe hero actually reevaluated his life choices up to that point and eventually became a true hero, but that's another story.

Tension bled from me as Death granted my request. Raising one spindly arm, his robes dragging across the cave's floor, he pressed his crooked fingers to my hollow chest. With a sudden shock, I awoke, my heart thundering in the silence.

I could feel Death's aura lingering in the corporeal world, dissolving back into the ether in those few confused moments between unreality and life.

I opened my eyes in the dim light.

As I rose, I felt no apprehension, no fear at his final words, only a lightness of spirit. Death was mistaken. I knew in my heart I would never kill anyone—my whole life I had preached peace, practiced benevolence, turned the other cheek. Had I been willing to coax myself to acts of violence, I would not have arrived at Death's doorstep bathed in my own blood at all. Surely, that ultimate trial—that test of my nonviolence by blood and fire—would absolve me of a damned fate.

In the darkness, I raised my trembling hands to my cheeks and found them damp with tears. I staggered against the rocky walls, weeping with joy, overwhelmed by my reawakened senses.

This couldn't be Death's doing—no, this second chance at life, this opportunity to complete my unfinished journey, could only be a blessing from God. I resolved, then, to preach that this was God's doing. To rewrite the story and leave Death by the wayside.

How could my words of humility provoke violence? If I walked a path of righteousness and preached peace itself, then how could countless souls die in my name?

It would never come to pass.

I wouldn't let Death poison my work.

I had awakened from darkness, baptized in blood, the Son of God.

[removed]

[deleted]

Ooh, I liked this! Good work!

The creature stood, imposing in his size. Blood from the deer it had been eating dripped from its maw and hand-like paws as it slowly stepped toward the hero. The hero faltered for a moment before thrusting the blade toward the beast. To his shock it simply bounced off the Man-wolf's chest, both looked down, the creature with a bizarre look of amusement, the hero with a combination of disbelief and horror. "Brave... Foolishhhh."

The hero gazed up stunned as a gutteral voice reminiscent of a human escaped the creature's mouth. The creature stepped forward as the Hero stepped back. Growing horror welling up. He was doomed. No more than his 17th year and he feared he wouldn't see his 18th. "B-Back. I.."

His voice trailed off as the creature continued forward, his steps silent on the stone of the cave. Silently the wolf stopped, the Hero's back pressed to the wall of the cave. To his right, a deep drop into a chasm in the cave. To his left, another wall, and just beyond the Wolflike creature, the moonlit entrance, and something.. Big flying towards the cave. He recognized it almost instantly. A dragon. Amethyst in color, and growing larger and larger. He gazed at it for longer than he realized. Such majestic, fierce creatures. For a moment he felt almost glad he'd gotten to see one before he died. It was all too long before he realized that the beast had yet to make any move. It simply stood staring, a growling breath the only noise as it inhaled and exhaled. Silently it sniffed at the air. "Korrr.."

The hero was shaken from his stupor as he glanced at the beast. "Wh-Wha?"

With a dull thud, the dragon landed at the entrance. It stepped forward with a fierce growl, fangs bared as it approached. "Stop... Friend."

The beast said as the Dragon halted. The dragon and Manwolf seemed to stare at each other for a moment before a presence made itself known in the Hero's mind. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

The hero faltered for a moment before speaking "Ansin. Son of Malik. I.. I am here to destroy the creature responsible for all the deaths in our cities and villages. I've been tracking this creature here."

The dragon stepped forward. "Then he is right. You are brave, but incredibly foolish. You see, we are Rider and Dragon. While my Rider is the same as the creature responsible, we ourselves were tracking it. With the same goal as you."

The Hero went wide-eyed. Suddenly it made sense. The Blade of Sundri's Light hadn't worked because the Beast was pure of heart. He was a Rider, a guardian of the land, blessed by all 6 divines. "I.. I didn't...."

"Obviously.. We do not blame you. But I must ask... Why? For what purpose do you intend to destroy this creature?"

Ansin's head dropped before he spoke. "My father... That... THING killed him. Simply because he was tilling the fields after dark. I heard his screams... When I made it he was already dead and the beast... He did this."

Silently he removed his tunic reavealing a deep set of slash marks across his chest from his shoulder down to just below his belly button. "I shall not stop until the creature's head is mounted on my wall... I cannot..."

"Nor will we... But we will not find the beast until the next full moon. Until then, you should rest. The sun is soon to rise. It will be impossible for us to find him now. We will find the creature together, and you shall have your vengeance."

Ansin bowed in respect to the Dragon and his rider. "Very well.. But I must insist I continue with you. I cannot take this on faith alone. I must see the beast die. If not take it's life myself."

A hand lay upon his shoulder as he turned the beast now a man with long flowing brown hair and beard standing before him. "And so you shall. Besides, that weapon of yours will be of great use to our goal. Now, put your mind at ease and let us sleep. We'll look further tonight.."

With that the three settled into the cave letting sleep take them as sunlight slowly crested the entrance.

I am neither but this makes me want to watch both