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 Death: A Lovely Tale- The Novel

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Posts : 21
Registration date : 2010-04-04

PostSubject: Death: A Lovely Tale- The Novel   Sun Apr 04, 2010 8:24 pm

Death- A Lovely Tale- The Novel

"It's a beautiful day, here in
Rhollard, New York!" The weather man said on News Channel 5. I
completely agreed. Sunny skies, bright clouds; what couldn't make this
day any better?
I was on my way to good ol' Brian's house. He and I
had been friends since we were 3, and my mom and dad were friends with
Brian's parents. I would go over his house and play games with him and
his brother and sister, like Monopoly or Hide n' Go Seek. Brian would
give me noogies, and I'd give him wedgies or vice versa; all for fun,
something we had everywhere. Every day passed like a living dream, and I
always thought that every day was better than before. My parents and I
were going over to his house to celebrate Easter, since we invited them
last year.
I thought that this day would be better than the rest.
Our families would play our yearly traditional game of hunting eggs, and
then we'd eat hot dogs and hamburgers! Mmm! The hamburgers! I could
imagine it now: a seasoned sesame bun under some tasty lettuce, which
only helped to bring out the flavor of the roasted meat in the center.
It would be layered under sliced tomato, cheese, and onions, finished
with the same delicious sesame bun on top. The perfect hamburger. The
best fact was, you could layer anything onto the hamburger; mustard,
maiyonaise, ketchup, etc., and it'd still taste great! We'd continue
playing games into the night, and when the day was over, we'd all thank
each other for giving each other such a great time.
In those days, I
really believed that these days would go on.

That was when
Brian and I were 9.


During that Easter, Brian had an accident. It started off as him having
a hard time breathing, and his stomach hurting. He then threw up, and
fainted. We immediately sent Brian to the hospital, and he's been there
since then. They diagnosed him, but couldn't help him. Doctors called it
"a disease that would make him feel bad". They sent him to a ward for
"patients who don't last as long as normal". Those were just words that
were trying to be gentle, but failed in their effort. Let me fill in
those quotes with the real words. "onset hereditary cancer" and
"patients who will die". Those were the real words. The words that hurt.
I visited Brian a lot, and he wasn't contagious. I saw his parents and
siblings. We greeted each other, and I would wait until they were done
talking and caring for Brian. I would say good- bye, and start talking
to him.
What I did at the hospital was talk. We kept talking. We
talked about anything; the old days, recent times, the news. At times,
when Brian went to sleep, I woke him up to keep talking. I talked until I
couldn't talk anymore, because I'm afraid that when Brian dies, I won't
be able to. I think I stayed in the hospital longer than I stayed in
school. We talked late into the night, and it would be really dark when I
got home.

He's gotten worse, after so long. He gets worse and
worse every year. The nurses and doctors try the best they can, but even
they believed his fate is grim. But....he tried to be happy. For his
family and friends. He tried to stay strong.
We've gone 2 years like
this. 2 long, harsh years. It was almost 3 years, and it was the New
Year's Eve.

If there really is a god out there, please: Let my
friend live.


Even he lost hope. Brian, who had stayed strong for 2 years, had lost
hope. I wouldn't have blamed him. Watching him in so much pain like that
hurt. And I'm sure it hurt more being the person in pain.
His face
becomes paler with every passing day.
The thought that those
blissful days would keep going were gone. All I thought was how I could
try to keep my best friend, even though I knew he was already starting
to go away.

It was almost Easter.


It was Easter Day, and Brian's life was finally coming to a close. His
heart beat had finally started to waver. After all these years. It began
to slow down, at a fast pace. The doctors noticed it half- way, and
told us to say our good- byes.
I was outraged. My friend- my
closest friend- was about to lose a battle he'd been fighting for 3
years. I yelled at him, telling him to stay strong. To live. When he
said he couldn't, I left the room. I was so frustrated. So frustrated at
him for dying, and so frustrated that I yelled at him in his final
moments. I was yelling at myself, when I noticed someone go in. I don't
know who, but he was wearing black clothing. I forgot about him and
continued to beat myself up.
When I came back in, Brian's heart
almost stopped functioning. His heart couldn't take anymore stress, and
it slowed to the point where it was about to stop. But the weird thing
was, I saw the black clothed man again, this time more definitely. He
wore a robe, and a mask. He had a weapon- a blade of some sort. I
started to scream. "What was going on? Is he going to kill us?" These
were the sort of questions I asked myself in a rash manner. The man saw
me scream, but looked back at Brian. Everyone started to try to calm me
down, but I kept screaming. I saw the man slash through Brian, and
screamed even louder. Everyone had their eyes on me, but the man. I saw
him walk away, something in his hand. I just kept screaming as I
watched. I couldn't stop.
By the time I regained my composure, Brian
was dead. His heart stopped. It just couldn't take any more pressure.
It's possible I could've hastened his death, and I blamed myself for
that. I couldn't apologize to him for yelling because I overreacted.,
and I also caused his death.
I cried. That was all I could do.
found out later that no one ever saw the man. I doubted myself. Was I
hallucinating? I didn't know. I didn't really care anymore.

Exactly 3 years after he was sick, Brian died.


I would spend the next couple of weeks after Brian's death continously
running back to the hospital. They always asked, "Why are you here?"
I replied, "I'm here to see Brian." They would tell me that Brian is
dead, and I would be escorted out of the hospital without a word. I
guess going to the hospital was just my own way of dealing with his
I spent the remaining weeks and months of the school year
with silence. People tried to console me, but I did nothing. I said
nothing. I just walked away.
When I got home, I went to bed. If I
couldn't sleep, I just sat there on the bed. My parents were worried,
and they tried to talk to me. But I said nothing. I just went back to
This carried on until the end of the next school year.
was 12. I didn't know any better.

I didn't speak for a long
time. I didn't want to speak for a long time.

But that event
changed everything about my life.
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