Title: So Quiet
Disclaimer: Death, and the Endless, at least these concepts of them were created by Neil Gaiman, and are copyrighted to Vertigo/DC Comics. No money is being made through this, 'tis only fan fiction.
Rating: PG, some references to violence and gore, but minor.
Summary: A possibility at what had happened to the many lost on Sept. 11th.
Notes: Not the first to consider such a story, nor likely the last to write something like this. Just would be reassuring if someone like Death was waiting for us. Prayers and support to the victims and their loved ones. And if there's anyway you can help, please do so.
It is so quiet, in spite of the screams, and sounds of steel splintering, and glass shattering, there is a stillness in the air. In amidst the smoke, and the dust swirling around, a lone figure waits patiently. She knows the wait will not be long. Even now, she could see figures pulling themselves out, and helping others out of the debris.
She glances down at her feet, where a severed hand lays. With a sad expression, she picks it up. She then waves to those approaching her. A large crowd was forming. Hundreds, then thousands gathering. Some were in better shape than others. Some had parts missing, some were covered with severe burns. Some seemed only barely there. Some think that they had survived somehow. But then when they reach the figure with her serene, welcoming smile, her black, black hair, skin as pale as bone, wearing dark pants and a black tank top, they realize it is not so. The ankh upon her chest gleams in spite of the detritus blowing around, obscuring the sun.
She then walks through the ruins, once proud buildings standing as stalwarts to the city. She walks, and finds a smaller crowd, some holding briefcases. There is a man in a pilot's uniform, his slashed throat forming a second bloody smile. She smiles, and calls them over. She knew this was one group of many. She had taken a crowd already from Washington, many carrying briefcases as well. And there was still one other group remaining, lying in a field in Pennsylvania.
It was always the worst when she had to take so many en masse. She had come in the past for victims of wars, plagues, and genocide. Other large groups in places like, Nagasaki, Hiroshima, Normandy, Pearl Harbor, England, Poland, Vietnam, Gettysburg, the Native settlements in the Americas, and elsewhere. From all over, she had taken lives. Why? Because she was Death, and that was her job. Her brother will be angry, she knew. He hated it when mortals pervert the dreams he had given them. It was so common. Dream of a better, perfect world, but only to pollute it with hate, and desire to destroy others. How many times did it have to happen before mortals learn otherwise? But only Destiny knows that answer, and her older brother keeps his secrets well.
"What happens now?" She turned as one young woman spoke up.
"Now we leave." She replied, and then they all vanished. But if you listen closely, you can hear the soft fluttering of wings.
~Here ends the tale.~