A/N: Something old I found. Enjoy?
***
Chapter 1 - Like Taxes, But It Only Comes Twice
***
"Do you see him?"
"Who?"
"Death."
***
Walk. Take a step, shift the weight, take another step. Move forward. Always moving forward.
He walked up the road that, despite its every appearance, did NOT lead to Ankh-Morpork. The city sprawled in front of him, like something alive and most likely very slimy.
He didn't think about much.
He just KNEW.
***
Sergeant Colon very carefully guarded the main gate. You never knew when some hooligan would try to make off with a historical landmark.
He lit a cigarette with much precision and ceremony. It was the first light-up of the night, and very important.
The match skittered out of his fingers.
"Hey, you," he called out, into the night. "Who are you, boy?"
The young man paused in the gate, the night breeze ruffling his red hair eerily. He looked up at Sergeant Colon with brown-blue eyes.
"My name is Mort," he said calmly, his voice like ticking of clocks, the pouring of sand, the dripping of water, the passage of time. "My name is Mort, not Boy."
Sergeant Colon swallowed his cigarette.
***
Chapter 1 - Like Taxes, But It Only Comes Twice
***
"Do you see him?"
"Who?"
"Death."
***
Walk. Take a step, shift the weight, take another step. Move forward. Always moving forward.
He walked up the road that, despite its every appearance, did NOT lead to Ankh-Morpork. The city sprawled in front of him, like something alive and most likely very slimy.
He didn't think about much.
He just KNEW.
***
Sergeant Colon very carefully guarded the main gate. You never knew when some hooligan would try to make off with a historical landmark.
He lit a cigarette with much precision and ceremony. It was the first light-up of the night, and very important.
The match skittered out of his fingers.
"Hey, you," he called out, into the night. "Who are you, boy?"
The young man paused in the gate, the night breeze ruffling his red hair eerily. He looked up at Sergeant Colon with brown-blue eyes.
"My name is Mort," he said calmly, his voice like ticking of clocks, the pouring of sand, the dripping of water, the passage of time. "My name is Mort, not Boy."
Sergeant Colon swallowed his cigarette.