One Post RPG - Death Becomes Me

Some of y'all have done these with me before and I think they are a lot of fun and can break you out of the same old routine.

Rules:

This is not canon

You can not change the scenario - It is what it is....write your character in the moment. (The cool thing is to see how different people right differently)

You are writing your characters death...by drowning. You cannot save yourself. ......(Replace He with She if applies.)

Here we go!

The tide rose higher and higher and it creeped past his ears. His body lay there not being able to move one inch. Only the twitch of his eyes and the rise and fall of his chest as the water continued to wave in, higher and higher with each passing moment. It would be only a matter of minutes before the waves began to crash over his face. His fate was sealed....... soon a short breath will be his last.

There was, even now, an interesting mix extremes. The cold brackish, freezing really, was chilling. And yet still, his internal flame fought to keep lit, although the inevitability of extinguishing was fated. Atticus closed his eyes, shielding the salty water from his retinas. He fought against the turbidity current until his muscles ached, and until he could not anymore. This was the end, and he found no peace in going alone and wet.

Portrait

Some say the world will end in fire;

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

--Robert Frost

In a hundred years, Portrait never guessed it would end this way. Oil and water did not mix, so even in the roughest seas Portrait bobbed like a buoy…no lifejacket needed. But now, Portrait could hear the call of the sea in the conch shell of her ear, and its monotonous voice spoke of only one thing: slow decay among the deadly colors of the ocean floor. She pressed her face to the ice that locked above her in a cruel and tantalizing window to freedom and the sweet sky. Her brittle flesh (rent by the cold, and the relentless chemicals of the sea) began to dissolve. It had been a long life. Not necessarily a good one, but rich, vibrant with experiences that most would never even imagine. She did not remember them now though…no, as she closed her eyes all she saw were swirling colors of beauty beyond imagination.

Premonition

NO! It would not end like this, he wouldn’t LET it end like this. A boat would come along and scoop him from the brine, a plane would fly over and see the glinting of the sun off of the water he sent up with his frantic flailing, the sea itself would dry! And yet…and yet…he saw nothing but the roiling depths in his future, and in the present darkness cold enveloped him. He choked on salt, the crushing waves overcoming his telekinesis like every other barrier they had encountered from the dawn of time. It could not like end like this. He wouldn’t let it. But time grew short, for the master of mankind, the next step on the evolutionary ladder, the embodiment of future-perfect, had never learned how to swim.

Solenoid Spin

IT WAS DELICIOUS! He had never thought of it before, and he was angry at himself for depriving himself of the magic that was…THE PUDDING FACTORY! There were tubs of pudding, vats of putting, jugs and jars and cups of pudding! AND IT WAS ALL HIS! He coul have started with the small stuff but…PUDDING BATH! So much better than a regular bath. Regular baths were scary and he hated them. Soap was nasty, who wanted to eat it? Here in the pudding vat, everything was magical and nothing could go wr—

Good start I'll have one up soon

G@_Hawk_ didn't you already do yours

@_Sojourn_: No just set the scene.

@_Hawk_: Uh...is it a problem that mine are so short then...?

@Icarusflies: It's your post kid. Mine are not going to be long.....cause nothing I write is. I will write it through to his death.

The taste of blood in his mouth as he bites down on his tongue, desperately thrashing towards the surface of the water. A glimmer of hope as he begins to feel air rushing into his lungs once more. And then the bitter taste of despair as he plummets below once more. To think that his armor, his way of surviving up until now would be his downfall. Thrashing desperately for air still, hoping for rescue. He would never regain his honor, there was no glory in this death. Beginning to feel cold, losing focus. He would not face death in a glorious battle, he would not go down bringing other warriors with him. Barely able to move, so cold, head so cloudy. Suddenly the worst of it quietly gripped his mind, not a single person would remember his name. And with that chilling thought he began to sink as the cold of embrace of death enveloped him.

Edward knew that this day would come eventually. Having almost drowned holding up champions city once before he was naturally all the more wary of the water.But today he knew he had to do what must be done. His limbs could power him out his mind could seal a small bubble of air around him but neither of these would rescue the last of fine men and women of the royal British navy submarine. Punching at the side of the enormous metal tube and tearing at the fractured metal the prince of power expelled almost all the air left within him, giving one last push of his ample strength he reached out with both arms and launched the last two people he could see by the scruff of their necks towards the surface. "CRREEEAAAKK" watching as the two boatmen shot towards the surface the wreck slid crashing down on the prince. His body and mind exhausted/starved of the oxygen he needed to escape the champion simply sank with the weight of the vessel pushing down onto his chest. His strength couldn't save himself but they didn't fail to save the others. His last thoughts of peace as the water finally seeped into his throat and his lungs a brief burst of pain as his body rejects the liquid in search of the nutrient air and his consciousness fades to black.