Instead of writing about anything decent (like, say, oh, the season finale of Smallville? Love.) I'm just gonna post another excerpt. Not to the same story, though. No. My writing's kinda been in a rut lately and I'm hoping it'll improve if I keep writing.
They always seemed surprised when I told them who my husband was. Shocked, maybe. Perhaps horrified? One lady called me the devil--of course, I calmly explained my reasoning and she seemed to change her mind. If spitting on my shoes is changing her mind. Oh well; some people are just so stubborn.
What they don't understand is that Grim didn't ask for his job.
We met when I was seventeen. Now, don't go around thinking there was some kind of scandalous underage love affair going on--there wasn't. I hated having him around the house, especially when my sister was so adamant about keeping him. She wanted to nurse him back to health, she said, but we all knew she had feelings for him. With him around, I always felt like death was lurking at the back door, waiting to take us; I guess it was. The point is, I didn't really get to know him until I was nineteen and he had just taken my sister.
Oh, we didn't think he could. That's why we let him under our roof, I guess. He was so weak, so weak, when we took him in. He was dying on our front step--oh, what happens when he dies? Is it even possible? Who will take him? Anyway. He was dying on our front step, bloody and human and mortal, more a corpse than a man. He was all white--blindingly so. Paper white. Death white. His shaggy hair hung in dark knots around his skinny shoulders; his entire body was bleeding and raw. I knew exactly what he was, of course. The moment I saw him, I knew. It was his eyes.
They were like the sky.
I watched him regain strength. I watched him be stunningly human and simple. Who knew he would have a personality? Who knew he could be human at all? But all around him was the shadow of death; it filled the house with a permanent stench. It clung to my sister's every move. I saw it, we all saw it, but she didn't see it. She didn't want to see it. I think she loved him without ever realizing he could never love her back.
When he took her, he was as vast as eternity.
It was the final step in his healing, really. He was almost strong enough to regain his true form--he just needed a first victim. No, not a victim. A soul. It just happened to be my sister. I watched her die. I watched him stride into the room, carry her soul in his arms, and turn into Death.
It was so beautiful.
That's when it happened.
I didn't think he'd return. We were still grieving. How could he show his face when he had just taken our beloved sister? But he did return, and he waited outside my window for me to come outside, to sink into his arms and sob. It sounds backwards, but I felt safe around him. He was no enemy to me. He was real as anything, as gentle and soft as any other good man. I know even now that he is a good man. He always has been.
Oh, when I tell people who I married, they look at me as if looking at Death himself.
I need to join newspaper in high school but I can't find the club...ugh. They have it listed as a club at West but not at East. I'm also thinking of joining Model UN. Maybe? I don't even know what the heck it is, but Halden keeps suggesting it and it sounds kind of fun. Maybe? Maybe not. I just need two clubs and Kim wants me to do tennis with her, but I don't know how good I'd be at it. I'm really more of a badminton person.
I miss playing the violin. Like, I REALLY miss playing the violin. I bet you didn't even know I used to play violin. Haha, I wonder if I started playing again after 3 years if it would all come back to me?