Why Uncle is in the Closet
Based off an idea from Tracy Hickman's "Godzillalance"
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The roads outside Solace were dry in the sun. The green leaves of the vallenwoods rustled in a spring breeze and left patterns upon the street. Perfect conditions to go out, or so Caramon believed.
Raistlin Majere had been unwillingly pulled from his studies by his elder twin who wanted him to join him for a walk. For his health, Caramon had said. Caramon had not, of course, counted on the dust from the road that his frailer twin was now practically suffocating on.
"It's a beautiful day, isn't it Raist?" Caramon stated, stepping gaily.
Raistlin coughed.
"Sure is! I bet you're so glad to be outta the house!"
Caramon managed to, somehow, not notice two blazing golden eyes regarding him with hate.
Humming to himself, Caramon eyed his brother worriedly. Raistlin just hadn't been the same since his test, beyond physical appearance. He had tried endlessly to cheer him up to no avail. But maybe today...
"Raist?" Caramon began coyly, giving Raistlin a sidelong glance.
"What?" Raistlin snapped.
Caramon grinned, looked around, and then......
"SLOTH!"
He threw himself onto Raistlin, smashing them both to the ground. Through his glee, he failed to notice the cracking of many bones beneath his heavy body.
"Heehee! Whee! That was fun, huh Raist?" Caramon laughed. A slender golden hand forced itself out from under him, scraping at the road. Laughing again, Caramon rolled off his twin.
Had Caramon been a healer, he probably would have noticed that Raistlin had a broken leg, dislocated shoulder blade, three broken ribs, all puncturing his lungs, and severe internal bleeding.
"Raist?"
Raistlin gave a long, feeble wheeze then was silent. It was the last breath of Raistlin Majere.
"Oh shit!" Caramon scooped up his brother, who was limp as a rag doll, and ran to the healer as fast as he could.