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Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Marilyn Manson

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Our Life Dreams The Utopia
By basketcase111

 


He never thought it'd end like this; in a bright room, surrounded by people. He'd always just assumed that it would be dark, lonely and painful.

But he wasn't in pain now, either. He felt nothing, and at this point, nothing felt good. The morphine was obviously doing its job.

Twiggy sat to his left, holding his hand, occasionally clenching it tighter, and occasionally kissing his forehead. John, Ginger, and Pogo sat in the corner. Mom and dad sat with them.

Everyone had smiles, but the sadness in their eyes was obvious. Still, he appreciated their effort of remaining strong around him. He didn't want to make them sad. Really. The end of life was simply part of life and this wasn't a very bad way to go.

He was tired, anyway. The cancer had ravaged him for years, causing so much fatigue and pain. The chemotherapy had just made it worse. So many days spent throwing up, or so tired that he'd been unable to move...being unable to live freely, really. He'd be lying if he said he was upset that the doctors had decided to stop treatment.

Back to reality. Manson sighed softly as he felt Twiggy fix his hat. It was red and black and the bassist had bought it for him months earlier, when the chemo had started causing his long, black hair to fall out in clumps. He'd stopped wearing makeup around that time. It just wasn't worth the effort.

Twiggy's touch felt good. For a moment, it made Manson miss having sex. It'd been so long since they'd done it, he'd just not had the energy. Up until recently, until they'd gotten to this part - the end - they'd been sharing their passion via kisses, gentle hugs, and by holding each other while they slept. Manson was too frail for that, now, though, and the hospital bed wasn't big enough anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a whisper. It took most of Manson's remaining energy to follow the sound, but he traced it to Twiggy, who was saying “I love you.”

Then he realized it. Just how tired he really was. It was all too much, now. The others must've sensed his feelings, because they moved in closer to his bed. Their presence made him feel safe and warm.

It only took a few minutes for him to slip away, for his heart to stop beating, for his lungs to stop functioning, leaving behind a peaceful looking corpse with a soft smile on its face.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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