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Description
Written in response to Terry Pratchett's death.

My way of saying goodbye.

Discworld is owned by the late Terry Pratchett, who belonged to himself, his family, and the world.

People all over the world had different ideas about what happened when you died.

The newly deceased (and slightly distressed) Sir Terence David John "Terry" Pratchett wondered if there were any that "When you die, you will suddenly find yourself standing next to your body wearing different clothes."

He looked down at his body, then at himself, wearing black pants, black shirt, black leather jacket, and his black wide-brim fedora.

"Not… quite what I was expecting," he said, if only to distract himself from the surreality of the situation.

YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST TO THINK SO.

Terry hadn't known it was possible to be startled when you were dead, but there was no other way to react to the unexpected response.

It wasn't so much that someone answered, in fact, as it was the voice. He knew that voice. That strange, hollow voice that seemed to enter his head without going through his ears was one he knew without having ever heard it before, outside of his own imagination.*

Terry turned around and away from his body.

Death stood behind him. tall as he had pictured, wearing black robes, holding a scythe, and quite clearly a skeleton.

They stood in silence for a moment.

HELLO, MR. PRATCHETT. Death eventually said. OR WOULD YOU PREFER "SIR"?

Terry opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to get any words out. "W-whatever you want is fine."

Death nodded. I BELIEVE I SHALL USE TERRY PRATCHETT, THEN.

"Alright. Er, forgive me," Terry said, taking off his hat simply because he felt a need to hold something familiar. "I… I never realized you were real."

I AM, AND I'M NOT. Death said in the manner of one quite sure of their existence.

Terry blinked, "I'm not sure I follow."

I SHALL ENDEAVOUR TO EXPLAIN. WHEN AN AUTHOR CREATES A WORLD, IT BECOMES REAL, THOUGH SEPARATE FROM REALITY. IT GROWS AND CHANGES AS THEY ADD TO IT. Death paused, DO YOU UNDERSTAND SO FAR?

Terry nodded, confident that he understood the idea so far, if not how it was possible.

GOOD. NOW, WHEN THE AUTHOR DIES, PART OF THEM GOES TO THIS WORLD, WHERE THEY MAY WATCH THEIR STORIES WHENEVER THEY WISH, SIMPLY LIVE IN THAT WORLD, OR CREATE NEW STORIES THAT THEY MAY KEEP SEPARATE IF THEY WISH. AS SUCH, ONE OF THEIR CHARACTERS WILL ACT AS A PSYCHOPOMP, AND ESCORT THEM THERE. Death gestured to Himself, THUS, I AM HERE TO TAKE YOU TO THE DISC.

"And… what happens to the part that doesn't?" the author asked, hesitantly.

IT MOVES ON TO AN AFTERLIFE OF THIS WORLD, DEPENDING ON WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN, AND YOUR ACTIONS.

Terry stared at his hat for a moment, then turned his head to look back at his body and the people around him before turning it back to Death. "I know they can't hear, but can I… say goodbye?"

Part of Terry wondered if there was another him asking the same question, the one going on to somewhere else. It hoped they got the same answer.

After a moment, Death nodded. I WILL BE OUTSIDE, WHEN YOU ARE READY.

*Though there were a few actors who had come rather close.

For a moment, as He stood beside Binky*, Death wondered if He should have stayed with His creator.

The thought was immediately dismissed, though. If Terry Pratchett had wanted Him to stay, he would have said so. Otherwise, he would have been intruding, and this was not a moment He could just intrude on.

GOODBYES, He said to Binky, ARE IMPORTANT MOMENTS.

Terry walked through the door* after he said that. he had taken his glasses off, and was rubbing his eyes, shoulders shaking slightly.

ARE YOU READY? Death asked as he came to stand before Him.

"Is it wrong that I want to say no?" Terry asked.

NO, Death said without hesitation, reaching into the sleeve of his robe and pulling out a black handkerchief. IT IS HUMAN.

Terry nodded in thanks as he took it, dabbing at his eyes. "Is-is there any chance that…" his voice trailed off. It almost felt too selfish to ask.

Death nodded, understanding what the Englishman wanted to say. PART OF THOSE CLOSE TO YOU WILL JOIN YOU, IF YOU WISH. Death held out a bony hand to take back the hanky, BUT NOT BEFORE THEIR TIME.

Terry nodded as he handed the small black cloth back. "I don't think I'll mind waiting."

Death tucked the cloth back into the sleeve, then turned to His horse. As He climbed on, Binky turned his head to look at Terry.

Terry lifted a hand and, after a moment, patted the white horse on the nose. He couldn't help but smile just a little when Binky press his nose against his palm in response.

Death held out His hand once more, somehow conveying without words that He could wait a few more moments, if need be.

Terry Pratchett turned to look at the world one more time, moving in a circle until he looked at his home once more. somehow, it felt right to say it one more time.

"Goodbye. I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow, before he turned back to the waiting skeleton and horse, and placed his hand into Death's.

*Regardless of whether or not anyone other than Terry could have seen the horse, Death had decided it would be polite if he waited outside.

*Literally through. It might have been distressing if he had really noticed he did it at all.

What happened next was both amazing and terrifying all at once.

They rode among the stars. He had stared at the Earth until he could see it no more.

Terry kept his arms around Death even as he watch the cosmos go by. he had been tempted to hold out a hand to see if he could gather some stardust, but decided against it. He didn't want to risk falling.

Eventually, Binky slowed to a halt.

WE ARE HERE. Death said. IN A DISTANT AND SECOND-HAND SET OF DIMENSIONS, IN AN ASTRAL PLANE THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO FLY.

Terry had been looking in the other direction, so he turned his head.

There it was, the Disc. The water falling over the side, the mountains, the clouds, all the places he had imagined were there. Perched on the backs of four elephants, standing on the shell of a giant turtle.

Without being asked, Binky galloped around the elephants, each lifting their trunk in greeting as they rode past.

Terry waved at them, slowly feeling his spirits lift.

Eventually, they stopped before A'tuin's head, beside an eye that looked directly at him.

Terry reached out his hand and stroked the skin.

A'tuin seemed to smile. Terry smiled back.

WHERE ON THE DISC WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO NEXT? Death asked.

Terry thought for a moment, "I think I'd just like to sit out here, for a while."

Death nodded, AS YOU WISH.

Binky moved to stand on A'tuin's head, and Terry climbed up.

I SHALL RETURN WHEN YOU ARE READY, Death said, holding out a hand once more, FAREWELL FOR NOW, TERRY PRATCHETT.

Terry nodded with a smile as he shook it, "Farewell for now, Death."

As Death rode off, Terry Pratchett sat down, patting A'tuin as he did.

Then Terry Pratchett watched the universe go by, for a while.

THE END & The Beginning.

Description
Written in response to Terry Pratchett's death.

My way of saying goodbye.

Discworld is owned by the late Terry Pratchett, who belonged to himself, his family, and the world.

People all over the world had different ideas about what happened when you died.

The newly deceased (and slightly distressed) Sir Terence David John "Terry" Pratchett wondered if there were any that "When you die, you will suddenly find yourself standing next to your body wearing different clothes."

He looked down at his body, then at himself, wearing black pants, black shirt, black leather jacket, and his black wide-brim fedora.

"Not… quite what I was expecting," he said, if only to distract himself from the surreality of the situation.

YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST TO THINK SO.

Terry hadn't known it was possible to be startled when you were dead, but there was no other way to react to the unexpected response.

It wasn't so much that someone answered, in fact, as it was the voice. He knew that voice. That strange, hollow voice that seemed to enter his head without going through his ears was one he knew without having ever heard it before, outside of his own imagination.*

Terry turned around and away from his body.

Death stood behind him. tall as he had pictured, wearing black robes, holding a scythe, and quite clearly a skeleton.

They stood in silence for a moment.

HELLO, MR. PRATCHETT. Death eventually said. OR WOULD YOU PREFER "SIR"?

Terry opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to get any words out. "W-whatever you want is fine."

Death nodded. I BELIEVE I SHALL USE TERRY PRATCHETT, THEN.

"Alright. Er, forgive me," Terry said, taking off his hat simply because he felt a need to hold something familiar. "I… I never realized you were real."

I AM, AND I'M NOT. Death said in the manner of one quite sure of their existence.

Terry blinked, "I'm not sure I follow."

I SHALL ENDEAVOUR TO EXPLAIN. WHEN AN AUTHOR CREATES A WORLD, IT BECOMES REAL, THOUGH SEPARATE FROM REALITY. IT GROWS AND CHANGES AS THEY ADD TO IT. Death paused, DO YOU UNDERSTAND SO FAR?

Terry nodded, confident that he understood the idea so far, if not how it was possible.

GOOD. NOW, WHEN THE AUTHOR DIES, PART OF THEM GOES TO THIS WORLD, WHERE THEY MAY WATCH THEIR STORIES WHENEVER THEY WISH, SIMPLY LIVE IN THAT WORLD, OR CREATE NEW STORIES THAT THEY MAY KEEP SEPARATE IF THEY WISH. AS SUCH, ONE OF THEIR CHARACTERS WILL ACT AS A PSYCHOPOMP, AND ESCORT THEM THERE. Death gestured to Himself, THUS, I AM HERE TO TAKE YOU TO THE DISC.

"And… what happens to the part that doesn't?" the author asked, hesitantly.

IT MOVES ON TO AN AFTERLIFE OF THIS WORLD, DEPENDING ON WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN, AND YOUR ACTIONS.

Terry stared at his hat for a moment, then turned his head to look back at his body and the people around him before turning it back to Death. "I know they can't hear, but can I… say goodbye?"

Part of Terry wondered if there was another him asking the same question, the one going on to somewhere else. It hoped they got the same answer.

After a moment, Death nodded. I WILL BE OUTSIDE, WHEN YOU ARE READY.

*Though there were a few actors who had come rather close.

For a moment, as He stood beside Binky*, Death wondered if He should have stayed with His creator.

The thought was immediately dismissed, though. If Terry Pratchett had wanted Him to stay, he would have said so. Otherwise, he would have been intruding, and this was not a moment He could just intrude on.

GOODBYES, He said to Binky, ARE IMPORTANT MOMENTS.

Terry walked through the door* after he said that. he had taken his glasses off, and was rubbing his eyes, shoulders shaking slightly.

ARE YOU READY? Death asked as he came to stand before Him.

"Is it wrong that I want to say no?" Terry asked.

NO, Death said without hesitation, reaching into the sleeve of his robe and pulling out a black handkerchief. IT IS HUMAN.

Terry nodded in thanks as he took it, dabbing at his eyes. "Is-is there any chance that…" his voice trailed off. It almost felt too selfish to ask.

Death nodded, understanding what the Englishman wanted to say. PART OF THOSE CLOSE TO YOU WILL JOIN YOU, IF YOU WISH. Death held out a bony hand to take back the hanky, BUT NOT BEFORE THEIR TIME.

Terry nodded as he handed the small black cloth back. "I don't think I'll mind waiting."

Death tucked the cloth back into the sleeve, then turned to His horse. As He climbed on, Binky turned his head to look at Terry.

Terry lifted a hand and, after a moment, patted the white horse on the nose. He couldn't help but smile just a little when Binky press his nose against his palm in response.

Death held out His hand once more, somehow conveying without words that He could wait a few more moments, if need be.

Terry Pratchett turned to look at the world one more time, moving in a circle until he looked at his home once more. somehow, it felt right to say it one more time.

"Goodbye. I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow, before he turned back to the waiting skeleton and horse, and placed his hand into Death's.

*Regardless of whether or not anyone other than Terry could have seen the horse, Death had decided it would be polite if he waited outside.

*Literally through. It might have been distressing if he had really noticed he did it at all.

What happened next was both amazing and terrifying all at once.

They rode among the stars. He had stared at the Earth until he could see it no more.

Terry kept his arms around Death even as he watch the cosmos go by. he had been tempted to hold out a hand to see if he could gather some stardust, but decided against it. He didn't want to risk falling.

Eventually, Binky slowed to a halt.

WE ARE HERE. Death said. IN A DISTANT AND SECOND-HAND SET OF DIMENSIONS, IN AN ASTRAL PLANE THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO FLY.

Terry had been looking in the other direction, so he turned his head.

There it was, the Disc. The water falling over the side, the mountains, the clouds, all the places he had imagined were there. Perched on the backs of four elephants, standing on the shell of a giant turtle.

Without being asked, Binky galloped around the elephants, each lifting their trunk in greeting as they rode past.

Terry waved at them, slowly feeling his spirits lift.

Eventually, they stopped before A'tuin's head, beside an eye that looked directly at him.

Terry reached out his hand and stroked the skin.

A'tuin seemed to smile. Terry smiled back.

WHERE ON THE DISC WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO NEXT? Death asked.

Terry thought for a moment, "I think I'd just like to sit out here, for a while."

Death nodded, AS YOU WISH.

Binky moved to stand on A'tuin's head, and Terry climbed up.

I SHALL RETURN WHEN YOU ARE READY, Death said, holding out a hand once more, FAREWELL FOR NOW, TERRY PRATCHETT.

Terry nodded with a smile as he shook it, "Farewell for now, Death."

As Death rode off, Terry Pratchett sat down, patting A'tuin as he did.

Then Terry Pratchett watched the universe go by, for a while.

THE END & The Beginning.