Various Fandoms Oneshots

In a Bad Way

Fandom: Discworld (Terry Pratchett)

Characters: Death, OC

Desc: Bad life decisions, Death (both the phenomenon and anthropomorphic personification), and a rather nervous and very confused Craig.

Crack, sort of angst-y?

Word Count: 1'357

Enjoy!

Craig ducked into the crowded bar, prayed to every god he knew of, and promptly bumped into the troll guarding the doorway. Laughing nervously, the stout man glanced around desperately for an escape. The guard narrowed his eyes and huffed. This was not part of the plan.

"H-heyyyy, there!" Craig waved awkwardly. "Nice night tonight, wouldn't you say? The kind that just puts you in the mood to, y'know, n-not beat people up? Eh?"

The guard gripped his shirt collar ruffly and dragged Craig out of the bar and down the street.

"J-just let me explain!" Craig begged, voice creeping up an octave. "This is all j-just a big misunderstanding! I w-wasn't actually planning on going in the bar, see!"

"Boss said iffa ever saws yous again to...take care'a yous," The guard said in a tone that granted no room for argument. "Sos thats whats I'm doin'."

"I can make it worth your while!" Craig cried, in a last ditch effort to escape the fate he knew was coming.

The guard ignored him, and Craig struggled, swinging his legs this way and that without ever actually hitting the guard. He cursed his inherited shortness, and not for the first time either.

"Here's wes are," the guard said, shoving his way through the last remnants of the crowd and up to the edge of the River Ankh. Craig blanched, and scrabbled at his collar, trying to force the troll's meaty hands off of it.

"Quit strugglin'!" The guard complained, swinging Craig over the edge of the bridge. The slow moving sludge of the Ankh swindled past, disturbing bubbles and random unidentifiable objects dotting its surface. Craig paled.

"No no no! Please!" He kicked once more at the guard, to no effect. "I-I-I have a wife! And kids!"

The guard stared at him for a moment in consideration, then glared icily at him. "No ya don't."

And he let go.

Craig fell screeching into the filth below. He landed with a sickening squelching sound, and quickly found himself submerged, his mouth quickly filling with whatever the hell the Ankh was made of. He kicked and clawed, but he just continued to sink deeper and deeper. His vision clouded, hearing faded, and he found himself unable to continue his floundering. A part of his mind was still demanding he at least try to get oxygen, but an overwhelmingly larger part of it told him that would take far too much effort.

Craig sunk into oblivion...

And then he was yanked up, up, up and out onto dry land.

He coughed, trying to rid his lungs of the repulsive muck assaulting them, and drew in a huge gulp of delicious air.

"I'm alive..." he said. "I'm alive. I'm alive! I'm alive-I'm alive-I'm alive!"

He jumped to his feet and turned to his saviour, a somewhat shady man in a pitch black cloak, to thank him. But before he could the man tilted his head, or where his head would be if any of it could be seen beneath the folds of the cloak, and said,

No.

Craig's smile dropped slightly, and he stared at the man in nervous confusion. "What do you mean no?"