Death is not the worst
hey all, this is just something I felt like writting, or rather something that needed to be written. i'm going to expand on it and make it into a cross over with HP. i got bogged down with my old story, tried to write new things for months and culdn't get a chapter down. so i'm trying somthing new. tell me what u think. please be nice. oh i don't own harry potter, only the darkness in my own mind.
Once, in some time and some place there was a little girl who believed that death was the worst, most horrifying thing imaginable. It terrified her to no end, she feared the unknown which lay upon the other side of mortality and hoped to avoid it in herself and her loved ones as long as possible.
Then one day her mother grew deathly ill and the little girl wept as her heart, but stood as strong as she could. A year disappeared in tears and pain, a blur best left forgotten. So the mother survived and life returned to normal, until the kind grandfathers sickening and passing and the news that her mother was ill once more. Again she went under the knife to remove the putrid deformations lurking, boiling and seething within her body. Twice the doctors cut and twice she survived, pleased to be alive and the little girl was much pleased too. Her mother, beloved mother lived and was coming back to her. Foolish little girl, this was not the case.
A woman survived that night but it was not her mother, not the kind and loving woman the girl had modelled herself on, the one who hated to hurt others. Instead from the great house of healing came a monster, manic, paranoid, set to harm and slowly, swiftly she came tearing the family apart body and soul. The girl watched her father breaking in pain and confusion, her brother wept in agony, his faith in the mother shattered as words, irretraceable words were spoken. And finally, as a dream the girl had nurtured and held close to her heart was shattered by the cruel circumstances surround her not mother, the little girl broke.
And adorned in her favourite white dress, she walked smiling calmly and crying towards the roads, fastest and busiest she could find. And there she walked into traffic, a crash, horrific pain and then nothing. All had ended as the world was no longer a concern for the girl who ran from death. For that little girl it was all over, nothing mattered anymore and death, sweet and fearful death had proven to be not a curse, but a blessing.