[ WP ] A renowned author on their deathbed is visited by the characters the author created , come to say goodbye .

The clink of chains. The rustle of cloth. The slow and labored breathing. 
 
 Jacob lifted his head. `` I recognize that sound.'' He lifted a finger and pointed. `` Show yourself.'' 
 
 Death materialized. White eyes glowed from behind the shadow of the cloak. `` Hello, Jacob.'' The voice was raspy, words escaping like steam from a broken valve. 
 
 Jacob smiled. `` I was wonderin' when you were gon na come. I've met everybody else. You were the last.'' 
 
 Fleshless hands slowly moved the cloak until it rested on broad shoulders. `` I am the first and the last. I am the end of all.'' 
 
 Jacob inhaled sharply. `` I had n't realized how gruesome you looked.'' He laid his head back and exhaled slowly. `` I think I'm about ready, anyway. I ca n't feel my fingers anymore. Y'know, you were always my favorite character.'' Jacob chuckled. `` You were the only constant in all of my stories. You never faltered in your mission, y'know. You had a job and you done it. Always.'' 
 
 `` Yes. I enjoyed it all.'' 
 
 `` I did too.'' Jacob blinked away a tear. `` I think I'm ready, man. Come on.'' 
 
 Death extended a hand, a finger made of bone gently caressing Jacob's forehead. Jacob shuddered. Death lowered his hand and patted Jacob gently on the leg. `` I do not have that power.'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 Death's face was still, eyes glowing. `` I have the power to end all. I come for everybody in the end, but I do not have the power to kill that which created me.'' 
 
 Jacob grunted. `` Then it was a pleasure. Goodbye.'' 
 
 Death pulled a paper and an inked quill from his robe. `` You must finish the story. Give me the power, and I will take you home.'' 
 
 `` Give it to me.'' Jacob extended his hand. He watched as his fingers closed awkwardly around the quill pen. `` I ca n't feel it. You will have to do it.'' 
 
 Death rested his hand over Jacob's. `` We will do it together.'' 
 
 The scratch of the quill against paper was the only sound in the room. Finally, Jacob sighed and laid his head back. `` The end,'' he said. `` Fitting, is n't it?'' 
 
 Death pulled the cloak over his head. `` It is a fitting end.'' He placed his hand over Jacob's face.
