Aww i was worried about you

I ended up going with Reaper's Requiem! I might still add to it though.

The Reapers Requiem

Once upon a time, I met a girl. She had beautiful blonde hair, and eyes that sparkled like sapphires. With a grin that could light up room in an instance. Where ever she went, the sun seemed to shine down on her, and birds would sing their very best for her. Only a teenager, it looked as if she had her entire life in front of her. But the life of a human can be short and fleeting. The very best of mankind seem to have the very shortest of life. Like a butterfly, they spin and fly, bright colours flashing, only to disappear the very next day.

Sometimes I wonder, who I was before. If someone mourned me, as people mourned that girl, whose soul I guided home. But that type of thinking has no place in my life. I was nothing before, and now I am neither alive or dead. I simply exist.

The last soul I guided was a misguided boy, only a teen. He was tall, and scrawny, with messy hair. He could have had so much potential, if he had been given the chance. I wish I could change things for him, to give him another shot at life, but it is not my place to think things like that. So I move on, pulled towards the next soul to guide.

I know there must be more like me. I can't be the only reaper guiding souls. After all, I cant help all of them. What do those reapers think? Do they wonder what their life could've been? Do they remember the souls they guide? But I know I will not see another reaper, so I will never ask these questions.

It is the old souls that I like to guide. They are happy, content that it is their time to move on. They smile at me, following without constraint. They have lived full lives, filled to the brim with both happy and sad moments. When I think of them, I can't help but smile. Their candles have burned down to the end, and now they make way for a new generation.

The memory of humankind is short. I don't want to ever forget those whom I've helped. I want to find a way to remember their stories, so that when their families die off, I will still remember the lesson they taught others. So I will sing.

The hardest souls are of the children, barely old enough to walk. No one knows how their lives could've been. What they could have accomplished, how loved they wouldn't been. The parents cry as I gently guide their children away. I can not comfort them, tell them that I will look after their children. For only the dead see me.

With every soul I guide, another verse is added to my song. It is a song about a girl with sapphire eyes, and a boy with so much potential. It is about grandparents happy to pass the torch down to the next generation, and children who can barely walk having to leave their parents. It is a song for the dead, for there will be no one for me to sing it to but the souls I guide.

The Doll Who Sang
_{How could anyone ever be so pretentious as to think
that they knew everything about someone else?}

I used to live in a house with a beautiful antique clock, one that my grandmother had brought home from a travel to a distant land. I loved that clock, from its shining metal hands to the ticking sound that I grew up hearing. Every hour, a doll would come out and spin around before disappearing behind shining doors. I would sit there and imagine that I was the doll, and I lived in a clockwork castle swinging on a pendulum.

One day, the clock broke. It wasn't anyone's fault - it just stopped. My father took it down, and I never saw the dear thing again. Every day I would lie on the couch, just staring at the blank space where it used to be, a clean square amid a dusty wall.

After that, things started changing, as if the clock was the last thing tethering my family together.

Dad, where's Mom going?
Somewhere else.

Grandpa, when's Dad coming back?
Soon.

My beautiful castle was falling apart. But I held it together with children's glue and duct tape. I knew better-
_{I don't know.}
I was okay, because I could still hold it together-
_{I can't hold it in.}

They talk so much, the forest. I can't find my way out.

Do you see her? The trees whisper.
No mother, working father. The birds cry out.
HOW PATHETIC.

Even the grass moves to avoid my path. I'll walk on metal, then.
Each step I take sends a shudder through the earth. I'm building my way out of this place.
Buildings begin to rise.

Where am I?
_{Where are you?
Who am I?}
WHO ARE YOU?

I'll cut my way through this place. I HAVE TO ESCAPE.
Shining metal glints before me.
_{Take it. Use it.}

I hate you.

It's all your fault.

IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT.

The metal under my feet begins to rust as raindrops fall. I never noticed it, because I was too busy looking up at the sky. Then I fell.

The forest looms up above me. I'm nothing. They step over me. I let them.

The castle falls apart. The glue can't stick to a clockwork castle. The duct tape won't hold. The music comes to a stop.

Why me?

The little doll stops right before the doors of her castle, but she can't get out.

Because everything has stopped.

And then a hand comes and polishes the gears. The rust is replaced with something shining, something new. Something beautiful.

"Want to be friends?"

_{Do I?}

NO.
No.
No.
_No.

"Yes."

The clock strikes twelve, and a little doll comes out. But this time, there's another doll right beside her as she spins her way across time, across the fixed tears of a mess.

There may not be music already there for her,
but she can sing for herself now.

I got the Beauty is the eye of the Beholder! Excited with this one!!

Ohh nice ones

Pfft lmao, have fun

Fun, what were your other rolls

The Swan's Song, and Dance of Fire.

Pretty :)