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Death and Life

Summary:

Ghost is the Death that exists in this darkened land, his job is to collect human souls, but who would have thought that a ray of light still exists? Johnny is life that can cooperate with death.

Notes:

Sorry for the mistakes, english is not my native language.

I wrote this work because I wanted to put into it the meaning of our existence, in the person of Ghost and Soap, who separate Death and Life. Both sides half-beat each other, especially since I haven’t read a fic like this yet, so I decided to write it myself.

Wrote to music:
Agnes Obel - Riverside
Patrick Watson - Je te laisserai des mots
Lana De Rey - Young and Beautiful
Imbre - Jordan Critz
Sufjan Stevens - Fourth Of July (This one is my favorite, sounds like a screensaver)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Nothing can happen more beautiful than death"

— Walt Whitman

 

Death comes unexpectedly, instantly, whether night or day. Death does not sleep, eat, does not breathe, it simply sees, exists and observes insignificant human lives. How insignificant people were, centuries pass and human greed is still alive. People began to value lust instead of pure love, instead of justice, people fell in love with disgusting lies and hypocrisy, instead of kindness, people do evil... Where was that human essence that was hiding somewhere in the corner of this small world?

Humanity is given over to lust, lies, rage and dishonor, when love, loyalty and justice saved all living things.

Ghost stood next to a stream of people heading straight towards the central square in Glasgow.

With so many lives passing by, these people simply lived like ants, forgetting that every moment of their short life is priceless.

A dark robe, a hood covering a light head, a balaclava with a skull hid a face as pale as porcelain, which was covered with scars. His hands were clutching a long scythe with a sharp blade at the end.

Death stood among the people. Ghost was invisible.

“Like sheep's” – Ghost thinks, clutching his braid, – “Today ten people will die here because of a car accident”

Ghost's dark and penetrating gaze fell on a freezing dog, an ordinary mongrel. Ghost saw hundreds of such hungry animals, languishing in pain and cold, who unlike people, did not complain about anything.

“Only you can see me” Says Ghost, turning to the dog.

The dog only looked at the huge man with fear in his small eyes.

“Everyone reacts like that”

Ghost got used to silence, he loved silence and darkness, the cold that overwhelmed him did not interfere with his task, he collected souls, and after they went to heaven or hell, Ghost did not like the latter, a terrible place of eternal torment and pain.

The cacophony of sounds, strange street smells, people hurrying somewhere and the autumn rain only thickened the whole atmosphere. Ghost passed by people for centuries, centuries, and not a single ordinary mortal could see him, and if they saw him, they immediately died.

Death did its work slowly and clearly.

Loud, fast and sharp steps

Ghost looked around, and a mortal he knew, John MacTavish, ran past. Soap was an ordinary sergeant in the SAS, a sniper, demolition and a marine, a bouquet of all sorts of deadly things that so attracted Death himself.

How many times did Ghost watch over Soap, saving his life every time he defused a bomb, defending himself from bullets and Death itself. Ghost knew that this man's time had not yet come, but he continued to watch MacTavish everywhere.

John pushing past Death itself, turned his crystal blue eyes to Ghost.

The depths of the sea instantly became a dark sea. The pupils in the brunette's eyes enlarged.  

Ghost simply turned his head and continued to look into those frightened eyes. Ghost's dark eyes motionlessly looked at the Scot face, which had changed in his facial expressions.

Was this possible? Ghost never tired of looking at John, frozen in a stupor, who continues to stand in the heavy rain. The man's hair was pressed to his forehead, his mohawk was disheveled and his leather jacket was covered with raindrops.

Ghost continues to watch

Soap exhaled heavily and pursed his lips.

“Who are you?”

A low and rough voice caressed Ghost's ears.

“Death”

Soap turned pale, and then looked again at the man standing next to him; he was no longer here. John continues to have his doubts, but scot knows one thing for sure, he saw Death with his own eyes.

Ghost continues to haunt Soap, even when he sleeps in his dark and cozy bed in a small flat in Glasgow.

Dark eyes gaze admiringly at the exposed body parts of the man who slept so blissfully. Ghost himself felt sorry that he could not sleep, but sleep must have been so pleasant.

 

Ghost's icy hand reaches out to the stubbled cheek of the cattle, which muttered something in its sleep.

A little closer

Even closer

Ghost feels the warmth emanating from John's body.

Ghost continues to look at John, touching him with the tips of his cold fingers.

The man shuddered from the cold, the alien touch on MacTavish's shoulder made him stretch sleepily and open his blue eyes.

Disbelieving look.

Ghost did not budge, apparently Death wanted to test his theory.

“You again” The mortal says with some enthusiasm and a modest smile on his face.

Ghost cannot understand whether everything that is happening is real, how could any other mortal see him or give this innocent smile? For the first time, someone smiled at Ghost, it was pleasant... After many centuries, the man saw a smile, but on Soap’s lips it looked more beautiful.

Ghost, without making any sound, turned his head decorously to the side, narrowing his dark eyes.

“I see yа again, are y'following me?" John asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed, the man slept only in night shorts, forgetting about a t-shirt.

Dark eyes merged in the darkness

Nothing again

Soap could not look away, all these stories about what death looks like were almost similar, but in these eyes there was no anger, rather pain and hidden sadness...

Iroquois just continues to stare in admiration until Ghost begins to move.

“Stop! Don't go!”

Death stood right in MacTavish's room, who slowly reached out to the man's cold hand.

“No touch”

John stopped

Ghost's voice was low, velvety, with a manc accent, Soap just grinned.

“Are you real?”

“Death is a reality, heaven and hell too. You people are too distrustful creatures”

Ghost carefully leans closer to the man.

Soap again saw how huge the man standing in front of him was.

“I'm John, do you have a name?”

Ghost exhaled.

“I know everything about you, don't waste your time”

“Aye, am ya that popular?” Soap grins

“I've been avoiding you for a long time”

Blue-eyes looked into those dark eyes again. The eyes of Death.

“Affirimative, Johnny” Ghost's voice was quiet in the quiet room.

Johnny?

Soap continues to look at the man leaving.

“I’ll be waiting” Ghost said with a gentle smile.

This was the first time Ghost called scot Johnny.

“Ghost”

This is the last thing the man in the balaclava said.

Ghost?

That your name? 

Ghost? 

MаcTavish noticed in surprise how Ghost instantly disappeared from the field of vision.

Soap no longer heard an otherworldly sound or another person's voice; now there was only him in his bedroom. The scot himself couldn’t believe that he could see Death and even look into the eyes of the most dangerous human fear. Could Soap really be the bravest man?

Notes:

Thanks for reading. I will read your comments and criticism with interest. Thank you!

I am writing for myself alone, trying to overcome dyslexia.