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( [ { final destination } ] ) by Wistful
Chapter 1 : the end
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 16

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Oxygen sputtering in my lungs. Water (hydrogen [element on the periodic table {the periodic table is a table of elements}]; hydrogen; hydrogen) trickling down his jaw (biological framework supporting teeth) like blood. There is blood (a red [color of anger; color psychology {the mind}] internal liquid). I shudder, my bones and flesh (my flesh was burnt) rattling, and my legs are shaky under my weight (71 kilograms; underweight; skeletal body).

There is white, but I could smell the silver.

Liquid silver (like a Pensieve; her hair was red [color of passion; color psychology {the mind not heart}]).

My leg and foot went forward, and my body wobbled.

It hurts (pain; but I deserve pain; what I did).

This is walking. My right (justice; what is good) foot goes forward, and my body follows, and then my left foot does the same thing. It is a process. It is a succession of steps (walking steps and leveled steps; a play on words) that will have a result (not all results are good).

I keep walking.

The pain is reduced each time (time runs so fast; faster than death) I step.

Then (the word then indicates that something happened before; what happened before?) I fall, and my hands (guilty hands; red hands; bloody hands) and knees hit the ground which is white. I am in anticipation for something to happen (I do not know what), but it does not happen. I think, and I know what did not happen.

My knees do not bruise a beautiful reddish-purple.

There is no pain.

It hits me. Strikes me. I am dead (shit, no, I am dead).


There is only one syllable in shit.

I am marble. My veins (blue-black like bruises) are no longer necessary. If I am dead, my heart does not beat. If I am dead, there is no blood to spill. But I cannot remember if I am meaning my blood or someone else’s.

I use my hands to push myself back to my feet. I realize there is fog, and I cannot see, but I do not remember if I could ever see. I hold my hands out in front of me, and they disappear (Disapparate; vanish). The fog that is white is too thick (thick like flies [flying insects with limited physical and mental capabilities]) to see through.

There is a buzzing sensation in my ears, and I place my hands on my ears and clamp down. The sound does not go away, so I scream. I stop screaming because screaming will not make me alive.

But then I realize I do not want to be alive (life; good; bad; undeserved).

I keep walking.

I am thinking about what happens after death (she called it the afterlife) and that I can still think. I am still conscious. I have conscious thought. She (she was so beautiful) told me there was heaven – where there would be golden light and laughter that would make my heart (stone and blood; it beats no more) sing.

I asked her if there was hell.

She would not answer then. There was fear in her eyes. (Fear for me [who am I {I is a singular pronoun}?] or fear for herself?)

I asked again.

She said it was for the villains, for the vile, for those who did not deserve life (I do not deserve life). This time there was no fear in her eyes.

My eyelids shut and open again (I open at the close {death}). This is blinking. Blinking is so eyes do not dry out. Do I need to blink now? I am suddenly aware of cold (a winter [season after autumn but before spring] that never ends) metal pressing and swelling against my feet. I look down. I see only a blank (empty; heartless) white.

There is a crunch of dead (not living; not breathing) leaves whispering against my back. Goosebumps elevate on my flesh. I am still walking. It occurs to me that as I am dead, I should be decomposing (decaying; rotten). My bones should be dust, my flesh should be aiding the soil (only thing it is good for) make new life (life).

I checked, but I have not decomposed yet even though I feel rotten.

“Hello.” The voice is female.

I see. I cannot tell what color her hair is (I am inclined to think it was red [red is beautiful]). I cannot tell what color her eyes (I am inclined to think they are green) is, but there is a myriad of emotions spinning so fast that I could not catch a single one.

“I am dead,” I say.

“Almost,” she says simply.

“Who am I?” My body is tense but trembling like a dead leaf, trembling to know.

“The bravest man I ever knew.”

That was answer enough.

“Where am I?”

Her presence is warm – a pulse of fire, of flame (hell; heaven).

“Would you like to take the train?”

I can taste (see; hear; feel; smell [sense]) memories – hot and cold – on my tongue. There are ghosts of her presence – her touch on his arms, her eyes meeting his, a shared smile, a laugh.


I am on a train. The train is trembling beneath my feet, and it goes faster and faster. My heart is beating now, pulse pulsing, and I am so alive. My fingertips press to the window (open [I open {life} at the close]), and I see my fingerprints on the smoke (warmth against the cold [so cold] window created a fog; a smoke).

I live my life in a breath (breathing; breath; puff [smoke] of breath).

I am (in St. Mungo’s [hospital {white}], London, England) born. A woman, face flushed with warmth, holds me close to her. My cry dribbles in the air. A man press dry, chapped lips to my cheek. I stop crying.

I am (in Spinners End) walking again, my body toddling forward, and I fall, hands and knees on smudged hardwood floor. My lips tremble, but something picks me up, swoops me into the air, and I am laughing instead of crying.

My cry dribbles in the air. The air is cold, and I am (almost home) hot, sweltering. I am compressed in coats and scarves, and I am crying. My temperature goes up. A woman touches my forehead.

She is free (no boundaries; no restrictions), and she swings into the air (in the playground). She can fly; her eyes are green. My mouth is opening and closing, my heart beating so fast, but I cannot find words, so I vow to keep on searching.

Days bleed on (in somewhere, someday).

Their bodies are (with her) clumped together, exchanging heat, their words mingles, breathe to the air, of walking dead and prisons in the sea. The day is warm.

Blood rushes to my head. I am (in Hogwarts, by the Black lake) upside down, robe hung. My arms tremble, and I try to reach for something, but I cannot find it. My stomach boils and bubbles with anger. I regret.

My bones are soiled. I press my ear to the door, and I hear words. I am compressed in dark. There is the stench of alcohol. The words do not end, but I go to him and whisper in his ear (to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; You Know Who; the Dark Lord).

I promise to save him for her.

Because she is dead (I am nowhere).

I save him (for her; I am here).

I reached the final destination.

I am not quite certain what I did with this.
Present tense; first person - I haven't really written either way in a long while. A quick clarification - this is King Cross Station and Snape chose to go on the train.

"bravest man I ever knew" is quoted from the Epilogue of JK Rowling's Deathly Hallows, page 758 of the US edition, and those words do not belong to me.

Please read and review! :3

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