Nomah's Land
Title: Nomah’s Land
Author: Angel Starbeam
Characters: Mason, George
Rating: PG
Word Count: 947
Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Dead Like Me.’ MGM & Showtime does, and Bryan Fuller created it. Trust me, if I did own it, Bryan Fuller would’ve had full creative freedom and the show might have gone longer then two seasons.
Title: Nomah’s Land
Author: Angel Starbeam
Characters: Mason, George
Rating: PG
Word Count: 947
Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Dead Like Me.’ MGM & Showtime does, and Bryan Fuller created it. Trust me, if I did own it, Bryan Fuller would’ve had full creative freedom and the show might have gone longer then two seasons.
___
Chapter 1: A. Alvarado
It was hard to find ground that was dry enough to start a fire, but a dry patch that was hidden from the rains was found. The campfire was quite simple; it was jumped start by a bottle of vodka that George snatched from Mason. Stones surrounded it, to keep it contained and controlled, and a good number of wood to keep it maintain, burning and thus giving warmth and light against the cold darkness of the rest of the woods. Yet it was wild. The fire flickered and flared, with colors of red, orange, and golden yellow at the edges.
George watched the campfire, concentrated on its movements. Fire was the opposite of Water. She hoped it would hypnotize her, make her mindless, so that no thoughts could enter into her head, that way…
SNAP!
George jumped a little at the noise, ending her self-induced trance. She looked up and saw Mason, who just sat next to her. She stayed, deciding not to ask what he did to make the noise.
She wasn’t totally sure as to why, but she didn’t want him to leave. Maybe it was because they were out in the woods, and even though it was a campsite, it was friggin’ scary at night, so having company around was needed. Or maybe she didn’t want him to leave because if he wandered off, it’d be a safe bet that he would get lost and she would have to go look for him before he get into anymore trouble. Or maybe, and this must be it, it was because of how much their reaps had gotten to her, and now she could use a familiar face.
Their reaps were camp group of thirteen kids, and two chaperones. The kids were complaining on just about everything, and in short, brats. They were kids she would’ve been tempted to throw eggs at. They deserved to be egged, not to die by drowning in a flash flood. And she let it happen.
George thought she had gotten through with that, with those feelings. Feelings that her reaps were her victims, being powerless to Death and basically its bitch. She thought she had gotten to the point that she can believe that being a reaper wasn’t so bad.
Then this happened. Those kids’ deaths and it all came back. She was a grim reaper and doomed to be in the big circle of death for an unknown time.
George felt her eyes tearing up, and a lone tear made its way down. She lowered her head, and caught sight of Mason’s usually gloved hands. If Mason was affected by this like she was, she didn’t know. He’d been doing this for almost forty years, so maybe he is immune to it all. He can turn his back and was fine about doing nothing about it. Or maybe because he drank anything alcoholic and did every drug he could get his hands on, and on a daily basis, he wasn’t sober enough for it to get to him. For her, she wasn’t used to it and she hated it.
She also didn’t know if Mason notice she was crying, but they both noticed that another decided to join them.
It was one of their reaps; a girl in a camp uniform, with a round face, large eyes, framed by long dark curly hair. She was of average build and height, probably taller than George but to George, she seemed so…small.
“Hi,” the girl said quietly.
Mason acknowledged the girl with a smile while George gave a wave and didn’t take her eyes at her. The girl sat down and brought her knees to her chest.
“The others left,” she said quietly.
“You’ll leave too, eventually.” Mason muttered.
“I know, but not right now,” she said.
The reapers decided not to comment.
The girl then questioned, “You guys have names?”
George snapped, “That’s a stupid question.”
The girl retorted, “Well, what are they?”
“George,” George replied.
“George what?”
The girl had a peculiar determination on knowing the names of her reapers, and stubborn. Tired, George replied, “George Lass.”
The girl then looked expectantly at Mason, who in turn confessed, “Kenneth Mason.”
“Angie Alvarado.” She sat up and then asked, “So what are you guys? Are you like ‘Angels of Death’?
Mason snorted, “We’re grim reapers.”
“You mean the black robes and scythe, pale horses?”
“No, they’re in the cleaners from our last case,” George quipped.
Angie looked obviously that she didn’t get it.
George decided to explain, “We take people’s souls before they die, and then we stay with them until they’re ready to go.”
“Go where?”
“Wherever, we don’t know, we just do our part.”
“How come?”
“Because if we don’t, the souls go bad.”
“How can a soul go bad? What happens to them?”
George grieved an aggravated sigh and Mason stepped in.
“They just do, and it’s not pretty.” He said, “Besides if you died, would you want to stay in your corpse or go to the lights?”
“Yeah, about the lights, what’s the deal with them?” Angie said, “I thought if you die, that’s it. Or you would wake up somewhere else.”
Mason and George turn to each other. Neither had an answer, and both knew it was probably gonna be a long night.
Author: Angel Starbeam
Characters: Mason, George
Rating: PG
Word Count: 947
Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Dead Like Me.’ MGM & Showtime does, and Bryan Fuller created it. Trust me, if I did own it, Bryan Fuller would’ve had full creative freedom and the show might have gone longer then two seasons.
Title: Nomah’s Land
Author: Angel Starbeam
Characters: Mason, George
Rating: PG
Word Count: 947
Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Dead Like Me.’ MGM & Showtime does, and Bryan Fuller created it. Trust me, if I did own it, Bryan Fuller would’ve had full creative freedom and the show might have gone longer then two seasons.
___
Chapter 1: A. Alvarado
It was hard to find ground that was dry enough to start a fire, but a dry patch that was hidden from the rains was found. The campfire was quite simple; it was jumped start by a bottle of vodka that George snatched from Mason. Stones surrounded it, to keep it contained and controlled, and a good number of wood to keep it maintain, burning and thus giving warmth and light against the cold darkness of the rest of the woods. Yet it was wild. The fire flickered and flared, with colors of red, orange, and golden yellow at the edges.
George watched the campfire, concentrated on its movements. Fire was the opposite of Water. She hoped it would hypnotize her, make her mindless, so that no thoughts could enter into her head, that way…
SNAP!
George jumped a little at the noise, ending her self-induced trance. She looked up and saw Mason, who just sat next to her. She stayed, deciding not to ask what he did to make the noise.
She wasn’t totally sure as to why, but she didn’t want him to leave. Maybe it was because they were out in the woods, and even though it was a campsite, it was friggin’ scary at night, so having company around was needed. Or maybe she didn’t want him to leave because if he wandered off, it’d be a safe bet that he would get lost and she would have to go look for him before he get into anymore trouble. Or maybe, and this must be it, it was because of how much their reaps had gotten to her, and now she could use a familiar face.
Their reaps were camp group of thirteen kids, and two chaperones. The kids were complaining on just about everything, and in short, brats. They were kids she would’ve been tempted to throw eggs at. They deserved to be egged, not to die by drowning in a flash flood. And she let it happen.
George thought she had gotten through with that, with those feelings. Feelings that her reaps were her victims, being powerless to Death and basically its bitch. She thought she had gotten to the point that she can believe that being a reaper wasn’t so bad.
Then this happened. Those kids’ deaths and it all came back. She was a grim reaper and doomed to be in the big circle of death for an unknown time.
George felt her eyes tearing up, and a lone tear made its way down. She lowered her head, and caught sight of Mason’s usually gloved hands. If Mason was affected by this like she was, she didn’t know. He’d been doing this for almost forty years, so maybe he is immune to it all. He can turn his back and was fine about doing nothing about it. Or maybe because he drank anything alcoholic and did every drug he could get his hands on, and on a daily basis, he wasn’t sober enough for it to get to him. For her, she wasn’t used to it and she hated it.
She also didn’t know if Mason notice she was crying, but they both noticed that another decided to join them.
It was one of their reaps; a girl in a camp uniform, with a round face, large eyes, framed by long dark curly hair. She was of average build and height, probably taller than George but to George, she seemed so…small.
“Hi,” the girl said quietly.
Mason acknowledged the girl with a smile while George gave a wave and didn’t take her eyes at her. The girl sat down and brought her knees to her chest.
“The others left,” she said quietly.
“You’ll leave too, eventually.” Mason muttered.
“I know, but not right now,” she said.
The reapers decided not to comment.
The girl then questioned, “You guys have names?”
George snapped, “That’s a stupid question.”
The girl retorted, “Well, what are they?”
“George,” George replied.
“George what?”
The girl had a peculiar determination on knowing the names of her reapers, and stubborn. Tired, George replied, “George Lass.”
The girl then looked expectantly at Mason, who in turn confessed, “Kenneth Mason.”
“Angie Alvarado.” She sat up and then asked, “So what are you guys? Are you like ‘Angels of Death’?
Mason snorted, “We’re grim reapers.”
“You mean the black robes and scythe, pale horses?”
“No, they’re in the cleaners from our last case,” George quipped.
Angie looked obviously that she didn’t get it.
George decided to explain, “We take people’s souls before they die, and then we stay with them until they’re ready to go.”
“Go where?”
“Wherever, we don’t know, we just do our part.”
“How come?”
“Because if we don’t, the souls go bad.”
“How can a soul go bad? What happens to them?”
George grieved an aggravated sigh and Mason stepped in.
“They just do, and it’s not pretty.” He said, “Besides if you died, would you want to stay in your corpse or go to the lights?”
“Yeah, about the lights, what’s the deal with them?” Angie said, “I thought if you die, that’s it. Or you would wake up somewhere else.”
Mason and George turn to each other. Neither had an answer, and both knew it was probably gonna be a long night.