Information

Camille has a minion!

Poe the Fire Carrier

Camille

The

Common Harvester
Owner:

Lisa

Age: 3 years, 6 months, 1 week

Born: October 5th, 2020

Adopted: 3 years, 6 months, 1 week ago

Adopted: October 5th, 2020

Nominate Pet for Spotlight

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 2
Job: Unemployed

While it is true that in life I wore mostly black clothing and was enamored of all things to do with death, I never thought I would become death himself, or herself in my case. Let me back up a little here and start from the beginning. I had a totally normal childhood - mom, dad, older brother, dog, white picket fence around the house and everything. I had piano lessons and ballet lessons forced upon me as a child and my mother was so happy she'd had a daughter as her second child that she was always putting me in frilly pink things. I think that's why I detest and abhor all that is stereotypically girly. I preferred my torn up jeans, black band t-shirts, black boots, and my trademark black rose in my long hair that was dyed a different, dark color every month. Why I couldn't have been blessed with dark, black hair the color of my soul, I do not know. But I digress. You want to hear about how I died.

I had snuck out to a party at a friend's house on a Friday night. I say party, but really, we were just going to binge the latest American Horror Story season, eat junk food, and probably smoke pot if she scored any. My parents didn't exactly approve of this friend. She went by the name Raven and I honestly don't know what her 'real' name was. Knowing her white bread parents, it was probably Jennifer or Kayla or something like that. She wore the darkness of her soul on the outside as I did. So anyways, I was on the way to her place, it was raining, I swerved to avoid a deer, and BAM, right into a tree. The next thing I remember, I'm standing next to my smashed-up car, and next to me is a man in a black, hooded robe. At least, I think it was a man. He was tall, anyways. He reached out a hand and told me it was time to go. I thought he meant to the hospital or something, I mean, I was just in a damn car crash! But no, the moment my hand touched his, everything went black for a moment, and we were standing in a dark room, lit barely by one light bulb hanging in the center of the room, a desk and chair in the middle under the bulb. I looked to the man next to me, he nodded to me, and then he was gone. Just like that. Poof. I blinked, shocked, at the space where he once stood. How...what...was I dead?!

Yes, it's true that I thought about death a lot. I wrote poetry mainly focusing on death, I read Edgar Allen Poe, I loved Shakespeare's tragedies...but I wasn't suicidal or anything, I didn't want to die until I was an old lady, in my 90s or something. I was only 16! I hadn't had a chance to live my life yet. I wanted to go to college for creative writing, I wanted to fall in love, I wanted to move out and live on my own and experience life, goddamnit! This wasn't fair!

In the middle of my inner rant, I heard the clearing of a throat. I looked up and a bored-looking man wearing a black robe was sitting at the desk, motioning me towards the chair. I moved forward woodenly and sat. I began my rant again, this time aloud, but the man held up a hand to shush me. He began to speak, sounding like he was reading from a script, monotone. He told me I was dead. This was a space between the life of the living and what came next. He explained that those who die young are given a choice. I could go to the good place, the place that some call Heaven, that I could live forever in bliss, blah blah blah (he actually said that, blah blah blah). Or there was another choice. I could become a ferrier of souls, someone who brought those who died, to this place, to await their judgement and placement. If I served 100 years in this capacity, my soul would be sent back down to the land of the living, and I would be born again.

It wasn't fair. This was all happening so fast. I wanted to see my parents and my big brother again. I wanted to go home and hug my dog. Hell, I wanted to go tell my mom I'd wear a stupid pink dress if she wanted me to. I wasn't ready to die yet! I argued with the man while he sat there, impassive. Finally, I ran out of steam and he asked what my choice was, like he hadn't even heard my words. I looked up at him again, mouth agape...and I thought about it. I wanted to live. I wanted to be back with my family. A forever filled with bliss and sunshine and puffy clouds...even if it was Heaven, I didn't feel like I could actually be happy. I closed my eyes and sent a heartfelt but quick prayer that my family would be okay and that they would know that I loved them always...and made my choice.

story and overlay by

Lisa, background from FreePik, rose from pngfind