"So where is this demon of yours again?" Peter asked me has I pulled into the parking place of the field I left Lick in. After everything that happened, I wanted to take some time off and go see my favorite demon, and the guys wanted to come also for some odd reason. I didn't mind.
"I'm getting his readings," Egon told me and I heard a bark. Before I could look over, I was on the ground having a giant pink tongue run itself over my face. I could hear the others laugh, so figured out that it was Lick.
"Get off me ya flea bag!" I cried while laughing, pushing the dog off of me. He sat down has Ray helped me to my feet. I pet him behind the ear. "Think I forgot about you?" He gave me a bark and looked at the others. He loved them, but I was the only one who was greeted by a tackle lick. Oh well.
"He seems to have grown a bit," Winston said looking him over and I looked too. He did seem to be putting on a few pounds, and maybe even a few inches.
"Well I guess that is all he has to look forward to," Peter said has I went to tighten the scarf around his neck. I didn't want his collar to be lost, cause if anyone hurt him, they should know that I was going to hurt them.
"He has Natalie's visits," Ray put in.
"Well how long is Nat going to last compared to a demon?"
"Thanks Peter," I sighed rolling my eyes.
"What?" he asked and I laughed.
"I only said thank you," I told him and he smiled.
"A thank you can hold a thousand words," he told me, making me smile.
"That's a smile, Peter," I corrected. "A smile can hold a thousand words, but it can also hold a thousand tears."
"Where did you get that?" Winston asked looking up from the food he was getting out.
"My creative writing teacher told me that," I answered picking up a piece of meat for Lick and he gladly took it.
"You took a creative writing class?" Peter asked me.
"Yes," I answered. "I was a big writer in my younger years. Now I usually just read things like that."
"What were you big on?" Ray asked.
"Poetry," Egon answered for me. I smiled at him. I used to keep him up so many nights just showing him poems I read. He just shrugged me off, not caring for the words and more for the chemicals he was working on. I didn't care about what he said, so long has I read the poems.
"What was your favorite?" Peter asked.
"Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas," I answered. "Why?"
"Do you remember it?" Winston asked and I smile.
"Of course I do. Why are you all asking?"
"Do you think you could recite it?" Ray asked, all but Egon looking like children trying to get the story in has much has they could.
"Sure. Only a few verses though," I answered looking at them. "Do not go gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rage at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words forked not lightning they, Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright, Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage, against the dying of the light."
"Is that it?" Peter asked looking upset.
"No," I answered.
"Will you please tell us the rest of it?" Winston asked making me sigh.
"Wild men who caught and sand the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight, Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the darkness of the light."
"Wow," they sighed looking at me. I took a bit of the sandwich I was eating, has did the others. They were silent for a while, and it was when we were all done did we speak again.
"So what does it mean?" Ray asked me. "Do not go gentle into that good night?"
"It means that he is close to death," I answer, them looking at me. "He could easily light his soul be taken when it shouldn't be taken, not yet. If you had the means to save someone who was dead and shouldn't have died, wouldn't you take it?"
I stopped on my words and thought about them. They had done that. I was dead, and Egon saved me without a second thought. He knew I shouldn't have been killed, so he brought me back, and made sure I stayed. I guess maybe the meaning of this poem wasn't too far from us then I thought.
So what was the point of this chapter? Wasn't one. I really had no idea of what to write, so I just did this. New fact about Natalie: She loved poetry. So I guess this wasn't a total waste of time for me, haha! So I hoped you enjoyed it. Oh, I want you all to do me a favor. Simple, there is this channel on Youtube called Worldofheroes. It is Stan "The Man" Lee, creator of most of Marvel's heroes. Without this man we wouldn't have people like Iron Man, Hulk, Caption America, the X-men, Avengers, ect. So go look him up, and if you want to get a taste of what he is doing, look to the video on the side. It's kind of a spoof of the characters in comics and when they have a bad day. He is in a lot of them. So again, go look him up, and remember this: Excleser! Peace out my Stars!