Time Moves Too Fast Life Doesn't Last Long Enough
Disclaimer: I own nothing Rocky Horror, the great Richard O'brien does!
My brave Riff, my sweet, brave Riff. He fought so hard to get us home, to get me home. This pain that I feel is unbearable. He risked his life for me. . .but I didn't expect death to actually come. Death is the sort of thing that happens in movies, on tv, death happens to your friends. The last person you expect death to happen around is yourself. But viola. Here I am. Alone and empty. I know you probably think it's the battle, no, not the battle alone. The battle just made it happen sooner. You see, ever since Riff was about twenty he was infected with a disease that had no cure, hell, it didn't even have a name because it wasn't heard of until Riff died. After they found him they did an autopsy and the sight wasn't pretty. Apparently whatever the disease was was eating him alive and poor Riff didn't even know it. He lived thirteen years of his life without knowing he was dying. They said that the lazer shot helped him along with the death, put him out of his misery.
I knew better than that. Put him out of his misery? What misery? He was perfectly fine except for this unknown, unfelt disease and the fact that we were wanted. Well, he was the one who was wanted, but they'd eventually find out that I kept quiet about the murders. But, in a bittersweet twist of luck, they found out no such thing. I'm suprised they were nice enough to give him a proper burial.
The wind blows my hair in my face as a tear slips down my cheek. I swear this is the first time in my adult life that I was about to cry. My arm reaches out to the gravestone and my fingers trace his name.
"Riff Raff." I whisper his name quietly. I shake my head in disbelief. I can't belive he's gone. My body starts shaking with sobs. "Riff!" I cry out. I want him back with me but it's no use. I know he'll never come back again. It sends shivers down my spine to think that he's buried, six feet under, being eaten by bugs and other creepy crawly critters down there. I just can't take it. I want him up here with me, comforting me. Assuring me everything will be alright like he always did, but no. He's gone. I know he is. I know I have to accept this fact but I can't. I will be haunted until my dying day. 1942-1975. He had such a short lifespan. He shouldn't have dies at such an early age, leaving me alone with only myself as company, me being my only consolation. All I am is an empty shell now. Now that I have lost Riff death seems peaceful to me. I actually want death to come. I want my gravestone to be right next to his saying Magenta: Born 1944 Died 1975 And hopefully, hopefully that 1975 date will be today.