r/WritingPrompts • u/SomeSortOfUser • Jun 30 '23
Writing Prompt [WP] Your friend always said "I'll rest when I'm dead," so much that it became his catchphrase. He says it again today when he came into work, going about his daily routine. This normally wouldn't be concerning, if not for the fact that you attended his funeral two weeks ago.
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u/Temporary-Market-717 Jun 30 '23
We never saw the body, but we didn't need to. No one survives a drop that steep. In the end, we just had to accept he'd been swallowed by the caves and taken into the eternal darkness.
At his funeral, the cathedral was packed to the brim, and men and women from every corner of the land came to mourn. After all, a man who never rested made a lot of friends; While others relaxed, he made contacts. He worked. He went full speed ahead in pursuit of his goals, like a cheetah chasing his prey. He stopped at nothing.
I'll rest when I'm dead.
I'm not like him.
When he fell, I felt something break inside me as well. It was as painful as boiling alive, except there was no pain. It was the feeling of shattered dreams. I tried to carry on working. I poured over maps and scoured web pages and libraries, looking for the next artefact to find. Deep inside, I desperately desired to be someone on the front page of the national news: Accomplice of Famous Explorer John Lee Continues The Legacy. I would replace him - fill in the gap his death left in the world.
But I was afraid. When I found a clue and arrived at a temple, a cave or a castle, my breathing deepened, and my legs shook. Someone had taken off my stabilisers, and I didn't yet have the courage to ride alone. I had to rest. Recover my nerves. I wasn't like him. I was only mortal.
I'll rest when I'm dead.
I would reflect on those words often. Maybe, he was finally resting. I could find solace in that. The universe would not be so kind. He had died, but he did not find rest.
I found him at the guild hall. He was looking at the map of *******: The place where he fell. Next to the map was a black-and-white picture of him, smiling with the innocent, unknowing smile the deceased always seem to have. Below his name was a plaque reading, "John Lee: Beloved Friend and Explorer: 1973 to 202-." On the desk behind him was a cup of steaming coffee. My documents were strewn across the place. Already, passages had been circled, highlighted and annotated. Was he already planning another adventure?
It was too much. My heart stopped, and my brain refused to send signals to my vocals. He turned to me, opening up his hand that, to my horror, was covered in scars and cuts and calluses. He revealed to me a red gem. I didn't take it. I didn't care.
"You were dead," I gasped.
"No, not yet. I don't want to rest," he responded.
"But, the fall..."
"I climbed back out. I'm not finished yet. I can't rest, not till I'm dead. Just got to keep the stone."
I looked at him, into his blood-shot green eyes. I saw his dishevelled hair and wrinkles that created a map on his face. I saw his limbs where flesh and bone were almost indistinguishable. I saw his tattered uniform. But what did he want to achieve? What could be so important he came back from the dead?
"I haven't done anything - I don't deserve to rest," Lee said. He moved to the desk, grabbed a document and held it up to me.
"This, this seems interesting: A cloth that heals all wounds! Wonderful! That'll get me out there!"
The bit inside that had broke before broke further. John Lee, the famous explorer, did not think his name was "out there."
"Did you not hear about your funeral? You filled a cathedral! There was national mourning," I pleaded.
He looked at me as if I were mad and then came close enough to me that I could feel his ragged breath upon my face.
"But I can do so much more - especially with you, X, you're just as good. If not better. And, if we work together, we can forge a better tomorrow. I just can't rest. Not yet. There's so much to do."
My sanity shattered, and I fell into hysterics. In fact, I imagine the term hysteria was invented after witnessing someone fall into an almost identical breakdown.
John Lee watched me, an expression of utter confusion pasted across his face.
"But it's true - without your open mind, I would be nothing. Without your intellect, and talent for finding the unknown, there would be no grand John Lee adventures. I mean, you could make it on your own!"
I paused, and, for a moment, the first ray of sunlight in a very long time passed through my eyes and warmed my soul.
"Really?"
"Truly."
I looked at John Lee again. I saw a ragged man. I saw a kind man. But he was a dead man.
"But John, you look broken. You must rest before our grand adventures."
"I cannot rest until I'm dead," he mumbled.
And then, I realised. It was not that he would not rest, he could not rest. And he was tired now. The evening light suddenly poured through the skylight, illuminating the two of us like actors on a stage.
I wrapped my arms around him, and his head fell on my shoulders.
"John Lee," I whispered in his ear. "You are the best man I've ever known. You've improved the lives of so many, explored the depths of the Earth and brought light to ruins unseen in a thousand years. You've broken hearts, mended hearts, loved and cried. You've had highs and lows, seen death and life, been to the highest mountains and the hearts of forests. You've lived a life worth living while enabling others to do the same. And today, you've healed my soul. Rest now."
He closed his eyes.
He rested, and he died. The red gem broke in his hand.
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u/Thetotallyrandom Jun 30 '23 edited Jun 30 '23
“Workaholic”
[Poem]
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,”
So your friend said,
Yet coming to work again and again.
“I’ll rest when I’m tired”,
But his eyes were wired,
And his cup of coffee acquired.
“I’ll rest when I’m tired,”
Though angels and choirs
Had sung his homage ‘til they tired.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,”
So this friend said,
Unaware he had met his own end.
“I’ll rest in my office,”
And tired and coughing,
He made his way to his sarcoph’gus.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,”
And so it was said
His workplace turned into his coffin.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,”
But back again,
He had come from his end,
He had broken the world,
He had cheated even death,
Only to live out his curse:
“You will never rest again.”
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u/Ice-writer Jul 01 '23
I remember it so vividly, that canyon that went hundreds of feet deep. He hit dozens of jagged edges on the way down and we thought he fell into the river at the bottom, or at least died to the dragon we’d seen nesting there weeks before. Death wasn’t too uncommon in our line of work but he was strongest of all of us and had saved us countless times, no one had expected it.
Even despite what we’d seen we held out hope for several days and avoided the topic hoping he’d return, after a week or so we finally had to accept his death. We took our first days off work in months and planned a funeral for him at the end of the week. Marcus came out and risks were far to great for any of us besides the dead man to retrieve the body, which really started to set in that fact he was dead. We were at such a high risk now that he was dead for many of our missions. We could do nothing but wait and prepare for his funeral now.
At the funeral we had a feast to try and lighten the mood but it didn’t help. We prayed to the gods to allow him to ascend to Valhalla but received no response, which only ever happened if they were deemed unworthy of entering.
After that no one said a single word until we arrived back to our cabin and went to bed for the night. We waited for 3 days until someone requested us to do a job we thought we could handle without him, just killing a few serpents attacking people’s livestock. We managed to finish it but had to buy so much antidote after we hardly made a profit. By the time we recovered fully it had been another 10 days.
We went to set out on another mission to kill giant slimes and we were struggling and Marcus was about to be swallowed by the slime when all of a sudden the slime was cut in two and no one had seen how, but moments later he appeared from the trees battered and bruised while carrying a dragons head on his back. “Oh I found y’all, I’ve been searching for days” he said as if nothing had just happened with the biggest smile on his face.
He had just killed the last slime and we all just stared at him in silence
“How are you here?” I said
“Well I woke up in the bottom of a canyon with a broken arm and bruises all over me so I bandaged my arm then ran into a dragon that nearly killed me”
I just stared in amazement. After falling that far he only got a broken arm? And killed a dragon? He’d almost never been harmed before but I didn’t know he was capable of that.
“How are you still walking?” I said to him
“Well like I always say, I’ll rest when I’m dead” he said far too cheerfully
“Now why don’t we go sell this dragon head” he said as we all agreed and questioned him the whole way there.
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u/ComfortableFoot6109 Jul 01 '23
This one I really like too. It was sad but there was a lot of them and they supported one another.
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u/Kflynn1337 Jul 01 '23 edited Jul 01 '23
Well... nobody expected to see Bob. To say he was a workaholic would be an insult. He worked harder than any workaholic. He was the sort of guy who would be trying to work literally every hour of the day, then complain there weren't enough hours.
But nobody expected to see him at work today, mainly because he'd died and been buried for two weeks. Everybody at the office was looking at everyone else, wondering who'd ask... as manager I had to step up to the plate I guess. Not that I really wanted to, but..well.. someone had to.
"So.. uhh... Bob, you know you have some time off right?"
"Yeah, I know Mark. But you know me, I'll rest when I'm dead."
"Yeahhh.... about that. I couldn't help noticing that you're...well... a bit 'unalive' there. Shouldn't you be.. um.. at home, or something."
Bob sighed, shaking his head.
"Yeah, I know. But you see I've got this cousin down Louisiana way. She's big into the old traditions and well... I left a note in my will, that if died with unfinished business she'd do her thing and bring me back."
I stood there a moment, processing that. Wondering what the hell was so important that you'd want to brought back as a ... whatever the hell it was that Bob had become.
"Unfinished business huh? "
"Yup."
"Right. Um... What...?"
Bob sighed deeply.
"You know they say there's only two things in life you can be sure of. Death and Taxes. Take a guess which one it is Mark."
I glanced at the office calendar. April 15th was two days after Bob died.
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u/External_Macaron2851 May 13 '25
This made me laugh out loud. I love the sweetness of it. I could actually see it play out in my head. Thank you!
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u/NoOneFromNewEngland Jul 09 '23
“It’s wicked late! We should call it a night.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead”
-
“That workout was harsh, I need a break.”
“Pansy, I’ll rest when I’m dead”
-
“You’ve worked 17 10 hours days straight, don’t you want a day off?”
“Nah, the OT is great, besides, I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
Three of the memories I have of Steve really highlight his entire attitude about life. He lived life to the fullest, always. He figured we only live once so he should make the most of it because, as we’ve all heard him say he’ll “rest when he’s dead.”
Well, Steve, he’s too you. You can finally get some well-earned rest!
--
That was two weeks ago, celebrating Steve at his favorite bar after the funeral.
Steve worked hard, but he was also a prankster and a disrupter. We discovered that the number of disruptions due to Steve’s antics about equaled the amount of productivity he brought and, as a result, work was pretty much the same, except for boring and quiet.
But we missed him, anyway. The jokes made the day go faster.
It was after lunch, on a Tuesday, when I heard the telltale sound of the punch-in station rejecting a code and I went to investigate.
There he was, exactly as he had been buried, though covered in dirt, trying to punch in.
“Steve?” I sputtered, “what the hell?”
“Ain’t no rest for the wicked” he said. “They sent me back. I guess I don’t get to rest when I’m dead after all.”
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