Quoted By:
Our setting is an old familiar one: Deep in the dark dark woods. The main character? Also an echo of her archetype: a witch. But this isn't a 'Once upon a time' scenario. No, the witch had always lived in these woods. Since time began, and till time ended, these woods were hers, she were theirs. And she died happily ever after. The End. What, not a good story? It's ok, spoiling the end won't ruin the story. Because Rushia, the witch, had to earn her happy ending. But this isn't that story either. This is just a curiosity.
Rushia was a necromancer by trade and practice. The best necromancer the world had ever seen. As such she was dead. Always had been, always will be. That's why I said she died happily ever after, you see. She was created dead. So she had an intimate understanding of death and unlife. Zombies, liches, ghouls, ghasts, specters, you name the type of dead she knew it. Yes, some carnally, you sick freak, and it's none of your business so that'll be the last time we bring it up. She wasn't exactly lonely, but all of her pals were transient; always on the cycle of death and rebirth.
One day, however, a new being showed up at her doorstep: a god (lowercase) of death. The Japanese called them something like shinigami, but Rushia had always called them reapers. The reaper knocked, and Rushia opened the door. "Yo." The reaper started "You Rushia?" The reaper that stood before her was wearing street clothes of the 21st century Anno Domini, spoke like a wigger, and had pink hair. Rushia blinked. "Yes, that is my name. And you are...?" She prompted. The wigger reaper inflated a piece of chewing gum and popped it back into her mouth. "Here to reap your soul." Rushia snorted, rolled her eyes, and closed the door in the reapers face. "Hey wait-" she hear, before the latch clicked.
Calliope Mori shoved her hands deep into her jacket pockets and began to kick at the air, dejected. She thought it was a good joke, anyway. Swallowing hard, she knocked again. The door opened a bit, and the woman in the green dress, Rushia, peered out. "Sorry, uh, Ma'am. That was a joke, you know? A jest?" Rushia stared flatly at the reaper. "So, actually, I'm lost and was hoping you could help me get back to the relm of the shinigami?" Rushia threw the door open and worked the pump of the shotgun in a single motion. "Yeah, it's back the way you came, wigger."
Mori bolted as soon as she realized Rushia's finger was on the trigger, just as well too, for the shotgun roared and sent buckshot over her head. A second blast and Mori's up became green grass and her down became sky the color of a television tuned to no channel. On digital. Pure blue. The reaper rolled to a stop against a tree, breathing hard. She looked around and Rushia was there, in front of her. Mori threw her hands up, expecting another shot...that never came.
"They teach new reapers nothing?" Rushia asked, a wry smile on her face. "You can't die here. It was a joke. You know. A jest." Mori shakily stood up and looked at Rushia with disdain. "Well," smirked Rushia "I thought it was funny." A ghost appeared behind Rushia, a blond handsome man if here weren't missing the back of his head. Rushia handed the shotgun to him. "Thanks Kurt. Don't put it in your mouth anymore, ok?"
Rushia guided the reaper back to the rivers of the underworld, giving directions along the way of how to return. "Rushia, come with me." "No." "Please, I could teach you so much about the outside! It'll be fun!" Mori tried to coax her, but to no avail. "Mori," Rushia said gravely, "If I leave my swamp I will die." Mori started, shocked. "Fo real?" "No. I simply don't want to associate with you." Rushia turned and walked away, leaving Mori on the pier, awaiting the ferryman.
