I Creative Writing Mr. OíNeill 3/12/98A Date With Death by Daria Morgendorffer Last month ill fortune fell to me, Abetted by malevolent hand. I slipped into the Vale of Death And on Deathís doorstep I did land. And as I stood before Deathís door Behind me, Death called out my name. Before, his door denied me flight, Behind me, up his walk he came. I looked into the face of Death. No face I less desired to see. Oíer pitted cheekbones, eons gray, His empty sockets gaped at me. A hooded ebon robe he wore, His fleshless frame from view to hide. About his waist a crimson cord. A book depended at his side. Beside the book, an hourglass That measures lives in crimson sand; The scythe that reaped a billion souls Clutched loosely in his bony hand. "O maiden fair with auburn hair, So ill prepared this road to roam, Why came ye here to my cottage drear, To hell so near, so far from home?" My open mouth no word could speak, My spasming throat no sound could make, My heart beat wild, my knees went weak Death said, "There may be some mistake." "Consulting my appointment book, I see your name does not appear. Your date of death has not been set, So you should yet live many a year." But see, youíve sloughed your mortal coil, And without you, it cannot last. Unless you reconnect at once The pit of hell shall hold you fast." He pointed to the silver cord That dangled from my nerveless hand. "Oh, woe is me! What can I do? Iím trapped in this forsaken land!" "Iíll take you." That was all he said. He seized me in his clutches fell, And from that vale away we sped Like two bats freshly out of hell. We flashed through miles of solid stone As lightning flashes through the sky. I felt secure in Deathís embrace, And never even wondered why. We came up in the trauma center. On a gurney I saw me lie. My mangled flesh did I re-enter, And so just barely did not die. Long I lingered in a coma. Many a day Death hovered near. I mended slowly from the trauma And cried and dried full many a tear. I saw Death take Sandi Griffin, Heard the final words she said. Watched him drag off Skyler Feldman To the regions of the dead. Death taught me that life is precious, That today is all we have. Do the big stuff, smell the flowers. Too late when youíre in the grave. Death told me this lifeís a test, Open book, consult your friends, A single question, no or yes. Put down your pencil when it ends. A stone chess table stands before A cottage in a rocky dell With whitewashed walls and slated roof, Next door to the gates of hell. I have another date with Death And though my friends all tell me no, And beg, and weep, and clutch my sleeve, I gave my word, and I must go. All mortals have a date with Death, And ere our lives are at an end, Some of us come to lose our fear And look upon him as a friend. I have another date with Death. The hour now is very soon, So I must bid you all farewell; He comes for me this afternoon.
[This poem, while complete in itself, is from a yet-unfinished story, possibly to be titled "Coma Club". See, I had this idea. Instead of everybody visiting Daria (or Quinn) while sheís in a coma, and saying nice stuff she canít hear, why not see how many I can throw into a coma together? Naah, thatís dumb.]
"Daria" and all related characters are trademarks of MTV Networks, a division of Viacom International, inc. The author does not claim copyright to these characters or to anything else in the "Daria" milieu; he does, however, claim copyright to all those parts of this work of fiction which are original to him and not to MTV or to other fanfic authors. This fanfic may be freely copied and distributed provided its contents remain unchanged, provided the author's name and email address are included, and provided that the distributor does not use it for monetary profit. (as if.)
Galen Hardesty firstname.lastname@example.org
Galen Hardesty email@example.com