Sorry I'm kind of ignoring this site... a couple of things for you previously uploaded elsewhere. I'll try to be better about being online here and sticking up new stuff. :) I have it hiding somewhere.
(death)
A Danny Phantom FanFic by Cordria
She was sitting at the top of the steps, her elbows on her knees, an ectoweapon loose in her hands and her head resting tiredly against the wall. Eyes unfocused, she stared down the steps, her mind a million miles away. There weren't any tears – not at the moment, anyways. But she was sure they'd be back.
A cold trickle of air blew down her spine and her eyes closed, exhaustion and an expression of intense sadness settling onto her face. It was back. Again.
"Mom?"
She refused to open her eyes, refused to answer, refused to even acknowledge the creature next to her. It wasn't her son anymore.
"Come on, Mom, please," her son's voice pleaded.
She felt a hand touch her shoulder, but other than her fingers tightening into a death-grip on the small gun, she didn't react. Staying perfectly still, she forced her mind to think of other things. Her mind instantly jumped to his last birthday party – how he'd smiled and laughed, how alive he'd been, how much she loved him – and the tears started to appear in her eyes again. She'd never see that again.
The hand left, the creature next to her sighing. "Don't be sad. Just look at me." A stair tread creaked, bits of air moving as it changed positions to crouch in front of her. "Open your eyes, Mom. I'm okay. I'm human now."
The birthday memory fled, to be replaced – like it always did – by that memory from two weeks ago. The last memory of him she'd ever have. Heart clenching, her throat tightening, the tears that were threatening in her eyes spilling over, she hung onto the ectoweapon like it was the only thing in the world keeping her from falling through the floor or flying to pieces.
She really needed to shoot the thing before her. That's what the ectoweapon was for, after all. It had been modified especially for this one shot. One shot she wanted so desperately to take and one shot she couldn't wrap her mind around having to take. It would be just one shot, though – they'd made sure the frequencies and power of the gun were perfectly aligned. There wouldn't be anything left of this creature.
"Don't cry." Frustration was leaking into the creature's voice. "Mom, I'm not dead. Open your eyes and look at me."
A finger suddenly touched her cheek, brushing at the tears on her face, and she jerked away from it, her eyes opening reflexively. There it was, the thing that used to be her son: blue eyes gazing at her with a sort of internal light, black hair dangling into a familiar face, and a small smile gracing the creature's lips.
"See?" It spread its arms, leaning back on its heels. "There's nothing wrong with me."
And she almost believed. For the past two weeks, she always almost believed it when it said that. It looked so much like her son, it moved the same, it spoke the same, and it laughed the same.
It wasn't, however. It was a ghost. One that refused to leave, insisted on staying to torment her, made sure that now – weeks after her son's death – the wound on her heart was still as fresh as it was that horrible day two weeks previously.
"Go away." Her voice was hoarse and barely audible, pain and sadness scratching through what was left.
The pain that jumped into its eyes almost made her want to take her words back. To pull this creature into a hug and tell it that she believed every word. That it was possible her son was still alive in some half-dead state. Just to have her son back for a day.
But she knew better. So she said it again – a little more firmly. "Go away."
For a second it looked like the creature would, but then its face set and it shook its head. "No. Mom, you have to listen to me, just for a minute!"
"I have listened to you," she said softly, swaying back and forth gently as her emotions roiled in her mind. "Why won't you leave me alone?"
"Because I'm not dead!" The light in the creature's eyes flared brightly, frustration evident on its face. "I told you-"
"My son is dead," she whispered, closing her eyes again and berating herself for talking to this creature. She needed to just shoot it and make it go away forever. Her fingers tightened on the trigger, her arms tensing to move… and then she didn't.
It looked so much like her son. Was it so wrong that she wanted to see him just for a few more minutes? Even if it was this twisted, dead version of him?
"No, I'm not!"
Small sparks of static tingled on her exposed skin as the creature before her stepped over the edge from frustration to anger and its power started to flare. Adrenaline started to pump through her veins, her heart beating faster, her body automatically shifting into fight-or-flight mode.
Always before she had run away. Today, she would stand and fight. No more of this mockery of her son's entire existence. She would raise the gun, aim, and fire.
She just needed to open her eyes to do it and aim at her son's face.
"I was in an accident with the portal. I'm only half-ghost! We've been over this, Mom."
No, she couldn't think like that. Open her eyes and look at this creature that wasn't her son.
"I'm not dead."
All she had to do was open her eyes.
"It's possible. I'm alive. Mom, think about it."
Her eyelids slowly pulled apart. Eyelashes seemed to stick together, blurring her view before the creature came into focus. Its eyes were glowing a brilliant green and anger was twisting its face into something alien.
For a moment, it wasn't her son. She saw through its mask.
Her hands jerked up, the weapon aiming reflexively between its eyes. She saw its eyes widen in surprise and she pulled the trigger…
She pulled the trigger…
"Mom?"
Her hands fell back down into her lap, a long breath escaping from her lungs. Her eyes closed again and the memory flared – the one that tormented her day and night.
She could remember her son's friend sitting in the back of an ambulance, bloody and wrapped in a blanket. She could remember how someone told her that her son was still in the car and how she had run, stumbling on debris on the ground, to the intersection. The two cars were a mangled mess. She'd learn later that the dunk was doing close to seventy miles an hour when she blew through a red light and slammed into her son's car.
The paramedic had moved out of the way when she got there, letting her touch her son. Blood was everywhere. His blue eyes opened for a second, seeing her, and someone told her that he was dying. The car was the only thing keeping him alive and that it wouldn't much longer.
She was whispering how much she loved him and holding his hand when he stopped breathing. Her husband had to pull her away from the remains of the car some time later, wrapping her in his arms as she sobbed and cried. Both of them watched as their son's body was carefully removed from the wreck.
His funeral was eight days ago. He was dead and buried. There wasn't any possibility that he was alive.
"Mom?"
She refused to open her eyes, refused to answer, refused to even acknowledge the creature in front of her. It wasn't her son anymore.
"Come on, Mom, please."
Uploaded May 25, 2010
Straight from DeviantArt.
Thanks for reading!
