Hell's Book of Random One-shots

The Literal Death of Inspiration - The Grim Reaper Request by _MultiFandomXx

(This lightly treads themes involving existentialism and loss of self, please read with caution if these themes are sensitive to you.)

The mundanity of life was a theme commonly played upon.

It would be the topic of conversations, it would be joked about in shows and movies and books were filled with fantastical worlds where everyday people were pushed into unlikely situations far stretched from any form of reality...and all with good reason.

Life was boring.

It was dull.

People could strive to fill their lives with whatever made them feel fulfilled but these feelings were only fleeting and soon, perhaps sooner than they'd ever admit, they would have to find something else to temporarily fill that dark reality that they tried to avoid.

The truth that life, by all means, was absolutely worthless.

At least, that's how you felt and that was the line of thought that you had been stuck in for a long time.

Too long, in fact.

This depressive and lonely rut refused to lift and you found yourself, over the course of dragging months, involuntarily isolating yourself, wandering within your own loneliness in the hopes of finding a way out and yet seeing no end in sight.

Instead, you pushed from day to day, keeping distracted with work until it was time to go home and pray that sleep would come to you that night and then rinse and repeat until the cycle was broken.

It was tiresome and lonely and so exhausting that it pulled you deeper into the void, further away from your goal.

You were drifting, as though you were lost at sea with no land on the horizon.

The water was dark, cold and pulling you deeper the more tired you became.

You felt heavy, hopeless and like your lung were filled with water.

But, much akin to the miracles of an unlikely boat happening upon a survivor floating out in the ocean, you met someone who, as ironic as it would turn out to be, brought life back to you.

It had happened on a cloudy Wednesday.

You were sat at a bus stop, waiting for your ride home that was, as per usual, at least ten minutes late.

So you waited, ass going numb from the cold metal bench, hands in your lap as you blankly watched the cars drive by and the people heading to whatever lives they lead, likely somewhere more fun than the empty home you'd be returning to after a day of being rushed off your feet.

The others sat around you were busy in their own lives, noses in phones or parent's entertaining children until they could get home and rest for the night, everyone oblivious to one another.

Until they walked over and took the open seat on your left.

No one else batted an eye, blinked or spared a glance at them but you, you couldn't control an undignified gawp at the newcomer.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something beyond numb.

Dread, confusion, fear and uncertainty bubbled in your stomach the longer they were sat there and it had only been a couple of seconds.

You shifted in your seat, mouth still agape as you glanced to the others waiting for the bus but no one else reacted, the usual sounds of the roads and streets were undisturbed when they should have gone completely silent.