This was written years ago, shortly after I first learned of Sir Terry’s passing. I’m reposting it because it only ever was seen by myself and the tags were wrong and there was a word I needed to change that I couldn’t figure out how to change.
— An old man lay in his bed, dreaming of what he would write for his beloved fans the next day.
The door didn’t open, but a large white horse with a black robed rider came in.
IT’S A SHAME WE HAVE TO DO THIS. The rider said, in a voice that went straight to any listener’s mind, not bothering to stop by their ears.
SQUEAK. Agreed a similarly dressed figure. It was maybe six inches tall, and rode a white Scottish Terrier.
A clear spirit sat up, out of the man. “Hmm?” He asked, drowsily. “Is anyone there?”
YES. The horse rider said. I’M AFRAID YOUR TIME HAS COME.
“What do you mean?” The old man asked, his white hair and beard shone bright in the moonlight. “Wait, I know you….” The man stared in intrigued surprise at the blue novas in the hollow eyes of the rider. “Death.”
QUITE SO, SIR TERRY. Death nodded. I AM HONORED TO MEET YOU, HOWEVER, I’M SURE WE BOTH WISH IT WERE AT A BETTER TIME.
“Yes. Indeed.” The man, now know by any silent watchers as ‘Sir Terry,’ agreed, looking rather shocked. “I must say, when I wrote about you, I didn’t think that I’d actually get to meet you.”
AS YOU TOLD MANY, ALL THE IMPORTANT PEOPLE OF THE DISC GET TO MEET ME. YOU, Death said, ARE THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT. SHALL WE, THEN?
“Yes, yes, I suppose we must.” Sir Terry sighed, and stood up.
WOULD YOU PREFER THE SWORD, SCYTHE, OR BOTH? Death asked. MASKLIN OF THE NOMES IS OUTSIDE WITH HIS SHIP, WAITING FOR YOU. HE PLANS TO FLY YOUR SPIRIT TO THE DISC, SO THAT YOU MIGHT BE REBORN THERE.
Days later he was reborn as a quiet, collected infant. He remembered everything.