This is my first story posted to Snafu or any site for that matter. I've been thinking of Altruism, and how people killed it through selfish desires and sadistic pleasure. How the only people who are Altruists are forced into the job of caring for others, and end up killing themselves because of society's habit of ridiculing that which they don't understand. This is for those people. It's rated R for the various references to death and gore.

Chapter I - The Loner

They watched, as I, the spectacle taking place before them. I wondered what drived the boy to show off his dominance by beating on someone smaller then him. Was it insecurity, or something more primal? I found myself walking forward, trying to stop it, but I couldn't. I was dead, after all.
After the crowd dispersed I watched the smaller one laying on the floor. As far as I could tell, he had battered ribs, a black eye, and bruises all over his face. Yet he did not break down. I pondered what drived him to continue his miserable existence. Slowly, he got up, and walked to the buses. I floated above him, trying to see a break in his emotional state. But I saw nothing. Ah well. I already filled up my quota anyway. I caught the first Spectral Hole I could find, which happened to be in the gymnasium of the school. Sometimes I asked myself, Nix, why keep going? It was a terrible fate to spend eternity taking the energy produced from the pain of the living. But then I poured myself some wine and forgot about it. When I pulled the trigger, I thought I was going to a better place. I was wrong.
When I "woke up" I couldn't move. My soul was weak, because of the fact that before I died, I had multiple Reapers feeding on me. So I participated in the cruel joke that all suicide-ees have to participate in. I fed on the pain of my parents, and hated every moment of it. But if I didn't, I would of probably disintigrated. I hated that expression on my father's face when he found my corpse. It made me feel like I was terrible for killing myself. But they all deserved it. None of them understood my pain, and some didn't even try. I did get startled by one thing though. He started crying into my shirt. How could he do that? If he really cared, he would of tried harder to stop it. Like I always say though, you never really know someone until they're at their weakest.

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If you misspell Chuck Norris on google, it doesn't ask if you spelled it wrong. It just tells you to run while you still can.
Chuck Norris's first job was as a paper boy. There were no survivors.
Chuck Norris can believe its not butter.

Chapter II - Reincarnation

I flew through the Spectral Hole, doing acrobatic tricks that would have been impossible for the living to perform. Spectral Holes are the only thing that seem to make me happy these days. I've been thinking too much these days. It's so hard though, on your 30th year. Usually the 10th. 20th, 30th, 40th, and so on are the hardest years to get through. I dropped down into a lab, where the Spectral Hole ended. I looked around, and saw an old man frantically working on a metal figure. He was 76 years old, and his time was in 2 minutes. I like these jobs better, because they're not all sad I guess. The loving attention he payed to the robot changed my mind though. What happened next changed my afterlife forever. "I know you are there," he said, and I almost hit the fan. "You are what will give my creation life," He exclaimed as he turned to face me. I darted toward him, trying to see if I could take him early, but he side stepped, and everything went dark. I felt pain and then I remembered my name: Ethan.
I woke up stiff and cramped, and my vision was weird, as if the world turned green. The scientist looked at me, and whispered, "And now unto you, I give my blessing." I caught his body as it slumped forward, and then let it go as I realized I just caught him. I couldn't believe it. I was alive! I looked at my hands, but saw metallic palms. I was the metal figure. I had merged with this chrome monstrosity! I ran from that dreaded white room and into a hallway. I heard screams but I kept sprinting, and all the while felt confused. Was it a blessing to be alive, or a curse to be in this robot? I stopped when I burst out into the streets, and was met surprise and terror. So many people were looking at me, with this strange horrified expression. I ran past them and into an alleyway. No more flying, no more spectral holes, but no more gathering pain or reaping souls. I didn't know what to feel or think. I heard sirens and a man yelling into a speakerphone. I couldn't stay here, yet I was surrounded. So I did what was necessary: I fought.
I ran through the blue and white cars, and the men opened fire. I felt myself react automatically and watched as I crushed the man beside me, his torso liquididated as he exploded in a cloud of gore. Some of the gunfire ceased as people fled. And all the while I was doing these violent things, I felt a stir of another mind. The old man had left something in here... something so reccently made that it had no understanding of what was happening. I grabbed one of the police officers by the throat and crushed his windpipe with so much force, he was instantly decapitated. Dodging to the right, I killed another officer by punching him in the ribs with enough force to puncture his left lung. It was complete chaos, where people screamed and the remaining force ran for their lives. I had no intention of killing them, so I ran in the opposite direction. I was met by the site of a harbor, and as I jumped in the water and sank, the only thing I could feel was horror.

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If you misspell Chuck Norris on google, it doesn't ask if you spelled it wrong. It just tells you to run while you still can.
Chuck Norris's first job was as a paper boy. There were no survivors.
Chuck Norris can believe its not butter.