Don't Eat Him
"No! I can't! I didn't save him to b-be defiled!" You stamp a foot into the ground weakly, laying beside the small lifeless form. Your eyes wander up the skyline. You eye the stars above, glittering heartlessly down at your forms.
"I wonder if those are only pixels..." you think to yourself as you avoid the gamble of closing your eyes and welcoming sleep. You imagine, distinctly, your human self in a room somewhere with glasses over your eyes merely projecting this life in front of you.
You imagine lines of coding, scripting out the sensation of heartbreak.
You picture the college course dedicated to coding out the feeling of losing a son, of death. You picture the elements it'd take and the styling to be able to map out how one's soul felt inside their chest, to locate it before it was beaten solidly with a hammer as the death of their son was triggered.
"I wonder when we coded human emotion..." you thought, catching your own eyes flickering.
You nose catches the air. The scent is thicker now.
Death.
You dip your head, feeling weights on your eyelids pulling them down as you admit to yourself that the smell is coming for you.
The time has come.
Bathed in soft, blue moonlight or perhaps the light of mere pixels designed to flicker and light through a midnight sky, your eyes close for the final time. Without a single twitch, your body fades out beside your son's.
Perhaps, in the distant code of the fading sky of darkness as clouds cover the stars, your pixelized soul finds your son's and fades out in a braid together. Or perhaps not, after all, wasn't it just a game?
Written by Picklessauce69 on 02 March 2016
The end (for now)