Live and Let Die

While the rumble was going on, I was trapped by the haunting walls of a dark end. No one who loved me would be around me. My mother, she would have just yelled at me, blamed me, say it was my fault I was dying. My father, well, maybe he would have beaten me, and give death that extra little push it needed to get to me. And my friends, they were all at the rumble. Darry, Dally, Ponyboy-all of them. All who I cared about. All who cared about me. And I would die within these walls, trapped by the whitewashed walls that smell of that nasty cleaning detergent. The walls seemed to close around me, and I drifted into a dream-free sleep.

I awoke to a voice repeating my name.
"Johnny? Johnny?"
I opened my eyes and saw Dally and Ponyboy standing in the doorway.
"Hey," I spluttered out weakly.
"We won. We beat the Socs. Stomped on them, ran them out of town!" Dally exclaimed, his eyes still bright from the fight.
Like I care.
"Useless! Fighting's no good!" I spewed with my last energy. I felt the blood rush out of my head.
"They're still writing about you, Johnny. Calling you a hero and stuff. We're proud of you, Johnny. So proud." Dally whispered, seeing how weak and frail I was. But that sentence made my eyes glow.
That was when I saw a third figure in the doorway. He was dressed in a black cloak, with a pointed hood. His face was a pale white, and in his hand, he held a long stick connected to a shimmering curved metal end... A... scythe. It was the Grim Reaper. I knew I only had so much longer, a matter of seconds, maybe minutes.
"Ponyboy," I rasped. He came over to lean over the bed rail.
"Stay gold, Ponyboy."
The Grim Reaper came forward.
"Stay gold."
And with that last sentence out of my mouth, the Grim Reaper came over, and spoke to me.
"Come with me."
For a person who looked that menacing, he had quite a girly voice. A school-girl's voice. I notice the oddest things at the wrong time.

November 13, 2008