Hello there, I'm the author of this fanfiction. First of all, I wanted to tell you that I'm French, so there surely are a lots of mistakes. Please, forgive me. I hope you'll enjoy "Bound by a Thorn", my adaptation of my own fanfiction "Liés par une Epine". And if someone English wants to correct that One Shot, please, contact me, I'd be glad to work with you!
The memory which had surely marked him the most, the one which had the most meaning for him, was the one which came back every time he looked through the window. Large elongated flowers, with a multitude of small purple bells, Erica flowers, synonyms of loneliness in the flower language. More than ever, they gained all their meaning.
Eric sighed and swallowed, his heart becoming heavier and heavier. However, he couldn't resolve to look away. Soon, again, his memories reminded him.
"Mister Slingby, I presume?"
A brown-haired young man was speaking. Wearing the common black suit of the job, he absentmindedly raised up his glasses with his fingertips. His iris of an odd color, at the same time yellow and green, like Eric's ones, were betraying his true nature. The newcomer had talked with calm and some coldness, typical of a young Shinigami wanting to seem serious.
"Alan Humphries", Eric asked without expecting a confirmation, a slight grin stretching his lips. "Since now, we are a team."
Alan nodded but couldn't refrain to detail his superior. While himself was appearing formal with his smooth hair and his perfectly buttoned up coat, Eric was seeming much more unkempt. The latter was keeping his coat open on a white shirt which was revealing his collarbones. A loose tie was hanging from his neck where we could see glint a golden chain, matching with the color of his hair. From his beginning goatee to his hairdo at a time too long and disorganized on one side and braided in black lines on the other side, through his tinted glasses, he has a totally casual air which contrasted a lot with the job he practiced.
"At least he doesn't seem as extravagant as Grell Sutcliff", Alan reflected with a slight relief. He didn't dislike the red haired Shinigami, but the only one idea of being affiliated with this kind of a rowdy wired him up, annoyed him. He came to wonder how this clown achieved his missions with success.
"Relax, you look like Will", Eric teased him with a grin.
William T. Spears, "Will" for the ones who dared to call him by a nickname, was an exemplary Grim Reaper, and his seriousness was matched his performance. Eric wholeheartedly hoped his new acolyte wouldn't become as killjoy as him.
"It's time", Alan announced with a deep voice, thereby eluding the other's comment.
Eric nodded and took a serious look which almost amazed the youngest. He opened the gateway of their target's home without difficulty, it wasn't locked. After having gone through some rooms of a rustic style, the most experimented man stopped in front of a wooden door.
"The youngest take precedence", he uttered stepping aside to let Alan go past.
The one with brown hair carefully opened the door, on his guard, and frowned. The door seemed to be locked from the inside. He pushed a bit stronger and succeeded to break through. The scene he saw at this moment should have pleased Grell : red everywhere, on the floor, on the pieces of furniture, a true blood bath. Then he put his eyes on the old woman who was lying on the ground of the bathroom, bathing in her own hemoglobin. A peaceful smile was lighting up her lifeless face where a tear was slowly drying.
Eric stepped forward and looked a few seconds at the old woman without making any comment. Then he heard a thud, like a stifled cry of pain. He turned around to see the source of the noise and his look slipped on Alan, back to his teammate, doubled up. The man with a rebellious look laughed slightly :
"That's the first time you meet this kind of situation on the spot?", he supposed, giving him a huge pat on the back.
Alan swallowed and turned round with a nervous smile.
"E-Effectively."
At this time, he hadn't told anyone about his illness, "the Thorns of Death". It was an immedicable disease, able to kill a Shinigami. Frequently, his heart twisted him, it was an unsustainable breathtaking pain, as at this moment. Alan had got this sickness when he was still a student : a soul he had to collect had become hostile. After a frantic fight, it had finally crept into him, thrusting its black thorns into the young man's heart, henceforth condemned.
Eric pointed his death scythe, a kind of saw with a bulky and straight blade, to the victim who had been assigned to him and her cinematic record began to unroll. Alan held his breath until the end, a little surprised by the turn of events.
"A suicide?", he concluded, surprised, glancing an eye over the blood bath.
"She committed crimes when she was young and ended alone", Eric explained taking a notebook out of his pocket. "Maria Silvers, born on June the 10th of 1823, deceased on December the 26th of 1886. Cause of death : suicide", he enunciated. "It seems she didn't stand to be alone yesterevening", he finally commented.
"Ridiculous", Alan let out, looking away.
Eric raised eyebrows in an interrogative pout.
"All people are alone", he continued. "From the time they are born to their last moment."
Eric didn't pick up, as he wasn't used to all the melancholy which was reflected in these words. He finished to fill out the paperworks and he slowly turned on his heels without a word, followed by Alan. The first lad suddenly stopped on the doorstep.
"Flowers?" he noticed talking to himself. "I haven't seen ones like that before."
His disciple followed his look.
"Those are Erica flowers", he explained with the tone of the first of class exposing a fact everyone should know, staring at Eric and the purple bells. "In the language of flowers, they mean 'loneliness'", he ended in a breath, a strange thinking air on his face. "What are you doing?", he asked seeing Eric plucking a flower from the ground.
"Don't be so repressed, you look like Will, again!" the other rebuked him.
"Right", Alan acquiesced with the serious tone of a pupil learning his lesson. "Sentimental?", he added to his teammate after having walked a few seconds.
At this moment, Eric had smiled from ear to ear. His weapon on the shoulder, he had brandished the flowers covered of dried mud, and had declared in a loud voice, solemn : "In memory of our first mission !"
"Eric? That's time to go."
The said person turned round, drawn from his thought by his friend's voice while his own voice was still echoing in his head.
"Oh, Ronald. I haven't heard you enter."
Ronald Know nodded in approval and support. His face ordinary young seemed to be dug by age as his tiredness was great, and his joy of living, his recklessness which characterized him appeared to belong to the past, replaced by a grave and mournful air which made him unrecognizable.
"Let's go", decreed Eric rising from his chair.
His body was weighting heavy, but he wasn't decided to rely on someone. It would have reminded him too many memories.
Memories which snatched him when Ronald resulted him in his wake, silent and pale.
"Eric!"
A shout resonated in the night, followed by another, hoarse. An exclamation of pain, a metallic noise, and then the complete darkness.
"You do really are an idiot."
There were the first words the blond guy was entitled to when he regained consciousness, in addition to more than a disapproving look which was expressing a deep worry.
"Good morning to you too, Alan."
Le oldest man took a look to the situation : he was currently half-naked, lying down in his own bed, and his worried friend was holding bandages.
"You know how to use this?", the injured man twitted.
His smile tensed when the pain he had in the ribs woke. Alan upped eyes and didn't note down, giving orders to his superior and friend in aim to easy his task to treat him.
When he finished, he took the path to the kitchen before he stopped in the middle of the doorway.
"I forbid you to die before me", he whispered with a weak voice before he continued his road.
The other one kept mute a few seconds, passing the sentence again and again as if he wanted to detect a hidden message.
Abruptly, he heard a broken glass noise in the kitchen. Eric jumped up, ignoring the pain which was piercing right through his right side. He rushed in the room, gritting his teeth, and hurtled into the kitchen, tripping over a chair. He caught up narrowly to the tiles decorated table whose chilliness collided him. When he succeeded to open his eyelids again, he fell on one of the most horrifying shows.
"Alan, get up!", he sighed, keeping a calm look in spite of the panic which threatened to invade him.
The brown haired man looked up to his friend and leaned on the nearest chair, shards of glass imbedded in his skin like pieces of diamonds.
"Now, you're gonna tell me what happens to you", the other one went on authoritatively.
"You aren't in a better position than me to give me orders", Alan made him notice with a joyless smile.
Eric sighed, and then he crawled to his friend, keeping the table. He presented him his valid side and helped him to reach the bed where he was lying down a few minutes ago.
When they were both sat, a heavy silence installed while none of them dared to exchange a gaze. It was Eric who, someway, started a conversation. With a hard look, he crossed his arms and eyed scornfully the young man who was ducking his head. The latter finally surrendered and began to tell him his story, or more precisely Thorns of Death's one. When he achieved his recital, Eric regarded him for a long time, without saying a word. Alan had stopped looking at him since he had seen this ray in his friend's eyes, a ray of pain, of sorrow, and, worse than all, a ray of pity, unsustainable.
It was the first time Eric didn't find anything to say, the first time that no word could explain what he felt. It was a really strange feeling. He looked at his friend who kept his head down again, and then opened his mouth to comfort him. Once more, no speech went out of it. So he put his hand on the brown haired man's shoulder who didn't react that much.
In a silence only shattered by the sound of their breathe, Alan ended to slightly sit up straight before he put his head against the blond man's shoulder who didn't move of a millimeter.
"Alan?" he called him calmly.
The young man didn't answer, and it's only at that moment Eric understood he had felt asleep. He observed him a few seconds and couldn't restrain a smile : his glasses were falling on his nose and he had found a serene air again, almost juvenile. The taller man thought to stand up, but he didn't want to risk to wake the other up, too peaceful after all he was living since a moment. He deserved a few rest, especially now Eric new he was ill.
Thorns of Death. An incurable disease, fatal… Was there really no solution?
Eric wiped his forehead and looked around him. He was in a fiacre, apparently alone. When he tried to see the coachman, he only saw his hair : chestnut brown, and black underneath. Ronald. The latter, thoughtful too, wasn't doing the conversation, unlike his using.
"Alan wouldn't have liked to see you like that", Eric told him with a bit too husky voice. "You know your parties helped him to feel better."
The driving Shinigami turn his head to see the one who just talked, revealing a tear shining at the corner of his eye.
"If Will wouldn't give me overtime hours each time I organized one, I could do more parties!" he mumbled. "Moreover, mines are always great one", he added louder with all the assurance which defined him.
A bright smile lighted up his face a brief fraction of seconds, then, slowly, his grave air took its place again.
"I believe the kind of party organized today wouldn't have really pleased him", he concluded looking again at the road with an abstracted air again after having secured his lawn mower was still at his side.
Eric sighed. Shinigami were supposed to be immortal creatures, Gods – even if all the papers they had to fill in constantly weren't helping them to see like that -, therefore, none of them was prepared to what happened. How could they?
"Eric! Tell me that's not true!"
Alan's voice, broken, too shrill, resonated in the night. Eric looked away, taken in flagrante delicto. This time, he couldn't denied anymore, he was guilty of all the murders lately counted in town.
"Eric!"
Alan didn't believe his eyes. How his friend, the one who was supposed to be his mentor, could kill innocent humans cold-bloodedly, people who might can still live many years. How could him take their life prematurely ?... How could his make them suffer the fortune which was waiting for him ?
"You don't know the rumor?" he uttered after a silence which seemed an eternity.
Alan lifted up his head. He has talked with a voice heavy of graveness, as if he just learnt his death penalty – which was surely the case, seeing all the crimes he had committed.
"A thousand souls against a cursed one.", he simply continued.
The man with brown hair immediately understood, but he needed to hear it in a loud voice.
"Did you really want to kill a thousand innocent people?" he asked without any reproach.
Eric raised an eyebrow, surprised. Alan had never tolerated people who transgressed the rules, likewise William, and to see him that calm wasn't normal.
The younger man lay on his knees and the other one could no longer see his face. He rushed to him, wondering if he was suffering thorns pain or simply moved by the revelation – the man with who he had shared so many missions and so many memories was still a murderer, no matter the point of view we adopted.
"I would commit any sin if it would allow me to save you", Eric announced in a solemn tone, helping his friend to stand up.
At this moment, Alan hung on him, and it was only after a brief moment the other man realized that he was crying.
"You do really are an idiot", the smaller one whispered, making Eric remember these words in another context. "You know that's just a rumor."
"It is as long as it isn't proved", Eric made him notice with a malicious smile.
On these words, he went away from him. If the others learnt that Eric was the guilty, he would immediately be condemned, and Alan should in no case be there if it happened, too much feelings would surely kill him.
"That's enough, promise me you'll never kill innocent people anymore. If you stop now, they won't know. I'm ill, I imagined it all", Alan smiled offering him this pact. "You didn't commit any murder… Now, come with me?"
He extended a hand of friendship and ended his sentence like a supplication, as if he asked him to seal a promise, to keep a secret buried.
Eric looked at him as if he was mad, then a smile drew on his lips. He came before the frail young man giving him a pat in the back and took the way to the chambers they were renting since their first mission.
The fiacre stopped suddenly and Eric heard Ronald get down. Out, some voices were resonating in a discreet hubbub, as if a secret society was ready to gather… To deliver a tribute to one of their members. The Shinigami with the lawn-mower didn't come to see if his friend was ready to get down, he knew he would have come at one time or another, and Eric appreciated this gesture from him.
In the graveyard, even Grell, however ordinary frivolous, seemed to display respect and didn't be insolent fooling or trying to make the other smile in an inauspicious time to joy. Farther, Will appeared to be absorbed in the reading of a notably thick book he was holding upside down. Even the most impassive Shinigami saw their life deeply moved by the disappearance of one of their fellow.
Lying down, arms crossed behind the head in a half-conscious state, Eric heard a crumpled tissue noise and opened an eye. In the neighboring bed, Alan had calmly sat up straight, an hand on the heart.
"Does it hurt?" Eric inquired already knowing the answer.
"No…"
Alan sent a shining smile to his teammate and focused on the ceiling. Since a few time, he was less often subject to the pain crisis which blasted him usually, but the rare times he was, he suffered as much as he almost couldn't breathe and it took one hour to get over.
Eric looked at him anxiously, like each time Alan closed his eyes. He was always afraid for his life, even during the most serene moments. Especially during these ones, although.
"Eric, what are you thinking of?" Alan asked with a tireless voice.
"I'm thinking of all the job we have currently", the other grumbled improvising. "If Grell was suspended as Will had said, we wouldn't have to make up all his craps and we would have killed the demon since a long time!"
He wasn't really lying : he had thought of that a few minutes ago. Grell was the origin of the great majority of the overtimes the Shinigami bailed out, Will first, what didn't place the red haired one in Will's favors. And that Ronald sometimes had to work with him as his subordinate. Eric would have given anything to not be in his place.
He threw a gaze to the clock hung to the wall in front of him, it was showing two in the morning. They just came back and a new job was waiting for them a few hours later – as one of Ronald's parties, later in the evening.
Alan sighed, knowing the thread of his true thoughts very well, and sat on the edge of the bed, staring his friend, a bit nervous.
"And you said that I was sentimental?" Eric sarcastically reminded him, leaving a little more place near him.
Alan smiled and stretched out by Eric's side, needing to be near to another living being.
"He's far from the serious lad of our first mission", Eric thought with an amused gaze. Even if Alan was still well seen by Will thanks to his serious work in spite of all the difficulties he met, having rubbed Eric, Ronald and Grell too close had made him much more extrovert than their superior.
Unconsciously or not, Alan spent an arm around Eric and approach him more, eyes closed, and doubtless he was already dreaming. Eric upped his eyes and slightly smiled before he fell asleep too.
The next morning, when he woke up, there was no longer any trace of the brown haired man in the bedroom, that for sure made him panic. He jumped up and rush to the kitchen to discover the Shinigami busy preparing the breakfast.
Eric sighted of relief. Even if he was used to this kind of situations, each time his friend disappeared of his field of vision, he felt a strange discomfort. As a matter of fact, it was undeniable, he needed Alan as much as Alan needed him.
He went back to the bedroom and put on more decent clothes before he went back to the other room where his friend had already laid the meal. Seated, he was politely waiting him. He pushed a bowl to him and smiled gently. On the table, a branch of heather was sitting prominently in a transparent vase.
Even if he took the time to savor the taste of Alan's pancakes, Eric finished his breakfast in record time.
"We gotta go, Will still needs us to catch up Grell's job", he grumbled, gritting his teeth slightly.
Immediately after he said these words, his usual casual air came back. Already gone in the direction of the exit, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the brown hair man was bustling to clear the table.
"Can't you do that later?" Eric laughed in front of the housekeeper-like behavior of his partner.
"Later, we'll be called to go somewhere again", the other man sighed, seeming to be exceeded.
The blond haired one upped his eyes and finished cleaning. Then he grabbed Alan by the arm, declaring that "No, he'd wash the dishes when they'll be back!" before he let him go to open the door. His friend glared at him with an irritated look which progressively yearned as the seconds passed, to finally become this look which was his, the one which reflected all his concentration and innocence.
"Wait me, two minutes, no more!" was what we could read in his eyes. "And don't leave me all alone!"
But Alan, as stubborn as he could be, ended surrendering to his friend, nevertheless, he'd never have expected what followed. Weary of the too long absence of reaction from his friend and of teasing humor, Eric put a hand on his friend's shoulder, looking at him up and down from all his height, and he first of all believed he was going to push him out of the house. However, he did nothing of that : surprising him as much as his teammate, the blond one sent a half-amused look to his friend.
Alan almost jumped seeing the ray at the bottom of his look, as if Eric was weighting up the pros and cons of a complicated situation. Suddenly, it appears he took his decision and, in an ultimate movement worthy of the legendary speed of Shinigami, he put his lips on Alan's ones who was completely stunned. A few seconds later, Eric turned on his heels, leaving Alan almost shaking, popeyed and his face looking like the most exuberant of their workmate's hair shade.
"By the way, Alan", the other man began as if nothing had happened, "next time you dare tell me you're alone, I swear I'll kick your ass!"
Whereupon, Eric pretended to adjust his tie still loosely placed on his neck and crossed the threshold, half a smile both mocker and proud on the lips.
Got down of the vehicle, Eric put a knee to the ground, keeping a neutral air, as if he was thinking, invaded by memories. The happier they were, the harder they were to bear, and the one which just intruded into him was particularly painful. Alan was wrong, the one who stayed alone was Eric, surrounded by his kind, but yet infinitively alone.
A black flash of lighting went in front of his field of vision, and William flagged him to get up, the ceremony was going to start. Eric tightened the tie he was this time wearing normally. He had made the effort to dress a smart suit, in respect for Alan or in pure formality, he didn't know. If he had been here, the brown haired man would have been more than astonished : being as distinguished as that wasn't like Eric, even his hair style was neater than as usual.
Grell hadn't made this effort, but even if he was wearing his usual clothes, he was keeping a glum air which, once isn't custom, wasn't like him at all. The joy of life and the seriousness of Shinigami seemed to belong to another far ago era which had elapsed many centuries ago, forgotten by all men since immemorial time.
When they gathered around the coffin, Eric couldn't believe it. He swallowed and detailed the wooden receptacle, fighting against all the memories which were still assailing him. He had believed that the happy memories were the worst, but he couldn't have been more wrong…
A muffled noise suddenly rang behind Eric who immediately volte-faced. Alan was lying on the floor, hardly trying to get up. He coughed stronger and stronger and soon, a trickle of blood poured down along his pale lips. He looked up to his friend with watery eyes… to the one who was more than just a friend.
"Eric… It hurts…" he whispered, not being able to speak louder.
The blond man's heart sank and he laid on his knees by the formerly so serious Shinigami side. He knew. Though, a nonchalant smile appeared on Eric's lips who was struggling to not scream.
"C'mon, you won't miss tonight party, will you? I know Grell will be there, but don't invent excuses!"
His joke sounded wrong and Alan sent him a poor grateful smile. He extended a hand to his partner who held it just before it felt down, as he would have done with a precious object likely to break at the slightest touch.
Around them, nature was calm, as if it was bating its breath, and a woodpecker was beating the wood in echo of Alan's heart, irregularly.
A new spasm shook the brown haired one who bent under the throbbing pain. It was more and more unbearable. Eric clasped him to his bosom a little more and Alan opened his eyes again.
"Eric?"
He couldn't believe it, he might be hallucinating, it wasn't possible? Eric couldn't be crying?!
"Don't be such a kid, Alan, you're more resistant than that!" he achieved to articulate in spite of his broken voice.
The other one, a hand tightened on his aching heart, answered him by a weak smile. Alan would never have thought he was this brave in front of death, this calm while Eric himself was breaking down.
"Look at that", he whispered while his voice was progressively trailing off.
He pointed at the sky where the breeze carried away handfuls of multicolor flower petals, giving to the scene both a romantic and tragic atmosphere.
"Even when they fly away, they aren't alone", he continued.
A slight laugh shook Alan before it ended in a cough more violent than the precedent ones. When he could breathe again, the brown man closed his eyes and Eric thought he had passed away. He held his breath before he saw with an undisguised relief the Shinigami's eyelids open again. They revealed an ultimate time the young man's green eyes, bathed in a beautiful light, as if his entire being was radiating peace. He sent a last look, a last smile to the blond man, than his body seemed to become lighter. In an ultimate breath, he tried to whisper some words :
"Eric, I…"
The Shinigami never finished his sentence, closed by a last kiss with the acrid taste of farewell.
When he could reconcile to look again at his peaceful face, pale but still as radiant as before, Eric couldn't see more than the reflection of the petals flying in the wind in Alan's glasses. Raising his head to the sky, to this unfair destiny which had been fatal to an immortal being, only one thought came to his mind : "Alan, you also aren't alone."
Eric cleared his throat, plagued by too many emotions. He hadn't dared yet to look inside the wooden box where Alan was lying down. Affixed along the coffin, the deceased's scythe was shining in the sunlight as if it contained its owner's soul, a soul which was whispering encouragement words to people it had rubbed every day. Hesitating, Eric touched it with his fingertips and noticed that it was giving a sweet heat off, enforcing the given feeling that the brown Shinigami was still here, at his side, alive.
Normally, in a most common situation when they were reaping unknown humans' souls, Eric would have joked, implying that Grell would have better been at his place, but he hadn't the heart to squabble with the red haired man.
The latter was keeping casually, standing behind the others, leaning against a wall. Since the beginning, he was focused on the sky with a melancholic air, didn't saying a word, likewise all the others.
Someone was so going to devote himself to pay a tribute to Alan Humphries, as difficult as it was. Eric opened his mouth to speak, but Will interrupted him. He ordered to the present people to gather, and signaled to Eric to take over.
Inspired as he had never been, he enunciated the funeral oration, telling everything which came to his mind, he was talking as if the young man was near to him. After ten minutes while everyone kept his head down, Eric ended quoting a speech about loneliness Alan has delivered a long time ago :
"Do you remember our first mission", he began with a nostalgic smile "you took you Will-like air and you told me that we were always alone, all, from our birth to the end. What an idiot you could be, Alan…"
Eric burst into a loud laugh, a bitter laugh, sad, nostalgic, a laugh which ended in a tear of rage against this freaking fate. An angel passed by, then Will put up his glasses and applauded, followed by Ronald and Grell.
"I wouldn't have done a better speech", the chestnut haired man approved, putting a hand on the blond man's shoulder.
Grell didn't add anything and put his chainsaw near to Alan's weapon, symbolically, soon joined in this gesture by the other Shinigami.
"Even in death, you are not alone.", that was the meaning of this act.
When it was about time to let Alan rest in peace, everyone addressed him a last word. Eric noted the shroud was covered of flowers. Little flowers with purple bells, heathers. Erica.
A slight smile appeared on his lips and, leaning over the edge, he kissed one last time the pale and iced lips of the man who had been his partner, his friend, his lover. Then, placing a sprig of heather in the Shinigami crossed hands, he finally left him.
The rest happened very quickly, the death bed grew down into the pit and a fleeting thought came to Eric's mind : Alan was now going to spread his light elsewhere than in this world. Everyone poured a handful of earth on the last remains of their late friend, and a few petals of flowers blended in it.
Humbly, everyone went back to home. Will didn't write any report this evening, no more than Ronald organized a party or than Grell went flirt with earl Phantomhive's demon. A heavy and respectful atmosphere was reigning at everyone's. Nobody else lost his life this night.
Then life returned to normal and the ones who brought death returned to their task. Eric went back to work, alone, admiring the natural which the others had taken their last habits with. He was always displaying a nonchalant air despite the fact that he was colder and darker than before, it was as if Alan had taken with him a part of his soul.
Then came this cursed day when Eric was charged to collect a particular soul, the soul of a man who hated death as well as life. A hostile soul, cursed. One of those which brought death to invincible beings.
A soul which brought Thorns of Death.
Eric didn't escape it, in spite of a long struggle for life. However, even if he was conscious of his condition, he didn't tell anything to anyone. His temperament changed, became the one he had in the past, and the others thought he had succeeded to overcome the grief. But it was something far from that : it is only becoming aware of life that we can accord a value to life.
Until the end, he lived for two persons, for Alan and him, and came the day when darkness took him away too. The moment was brief. Indeed, it wasn't as poetic as Alan's death, but Eric spent his last minutes thinking to him, remembering him.
"Basically, perhaps loneliness doesn't exist", he concluded.
He let his body slide against the wall, his garden's one. Their garden's one. He closed his eyes, surrounded by these symbolic flowers, the ones which meant "loneliness" and which grew surrounded by their kind.
"To Alan Humphries, who defied fate."
"Eric Slingby. Loneliness is just a tale to scare kids."
In the graveyard, between two graves of white marble on which were lying death scythes, a heather was growing, bathed in the warm sunlight.