Post by Deleted on Oct 22, 2012 23:41:26 GMT
The man charged down the streets, constantly looking around him for signs of his pursuers. He paid. He always paid. Why now?
The thick winters frost was settling in. He disturbed it as he ran past, every step felt like a loud crunch bringing him only closer to the inevitable end. However the air was clam. There was no breeze, or wind, just the sound of heavy breathing and footsteps. There weren't even any cars driving around beyond the alleyways, it was as if the world had come to a complete standstill. An end.
The man reached a dead end, it was covered in ice and black snow, he couldn't somehow scale the wall or go back. His breath went silent as he felt it closing in, and he closed his eyes. He felt soft snowflakes falling upon his nose. He recalled that his family were going to starve, die. Then again they might not. Then again, as he distinctly heard the sound of a ticking clock ending it's last rotation, he wondered if that even mattered. All that mattered was the last rotation. Where he would stop. He felt a calmness wash over him, a zen like state that not even the most trained and patient monk could attain with decades of practice and dedication.
There was a loud bang as the gunshot fired, but the clock hand wasn't finished yet. The man opened his eyes, and coughed his lifeblood all over the snow. The ticking was so loud now that his eardrums felt about ready to burst.
But nonetheless there I was. As I was for some. I stood above him, and let the pure white divinity fall softly upon my black cloak as I watched his last moments stoically. He seemed to understand, weather by delusion or a strange twist of reality at the end, he certainly understood. I smiled under my black hood. I like an interesting death. Of course, he couldn't see that. How disappointing.
The blood finished pouring all over the fragile sheet of ice, staining it until it ended. The warmth, colour, and future drained from his body as the ticking finally finished. I extended my slender and white bony hands and touched his forehead, extracting the clock. I felt the warmth which left him flow into me. The ice began to recede, melt, leaving little but slushy, clear water which quickly ebbed into black mud.
The ticking for him had stopped. However I kept hearing ticking from all around me. Miles away, steady beats all in sync from all across the globe.
My job done, I picked up my scythe from nearby and headed out into the silent streets. The air was still cold and sky still gray, but there was light. From the shop windows or the fires in homes. Or the fires in their tiny little hearts. I've been Death since death was necessary, millenniums, more than that even. Units of time probably not even invented by mortals yet. But I've never enjoyed watching this world more, nor have I ever enjoyed this convenient form more. Shame being death is such hard work sometimes, but at least I've got something to do.
But there was something in the air that I had never felt before. The rhythm of the ticks was feeling just a tad off. The air had a chill to it that I couldn't attribute to cold weather. A shiver down my old beaten spine, and a shift in order my old bones weren't going to like that much...
A small boy sat on the edge of the rooftop that night, looking up at the moon. His eyes looked cold and dead, and the ticking was slowing down significantly. He too could sense everything slowing down, and spotted black clouds obscuring the moon and descending upon the city like a thick fog. And the ice encasing him felt like a warm blanket of comfort, as the ticking slowly reached it's last rotation.
(Yeah I know I left infinite incarnation behind... as well as nearly everything else. I got board, sue me. Oh, and I'll only write more if it's in demand. Actually I'll probably write a few more chapters before condemning it, as this was rather vague and I'm tired. So someone reply with a yay or nay for whatever reason whenever sometime if you want to please.)
The thick winters frost was settling in. He disturbed it as he ran past, every step felt like a loud crunch bringing him only closer to the inevitable end. However the air was clam. There was no breeze, or wind, just the sound of heavy breathing and footsteps. There weren't even any cars driving around beyond the alleyways, it was as if the world had come to a complete standstill. An end.
The man reached a dead end, it was covered in ice and black snow, he couldn't somehow scale the wall or go back. His breath went silent as he felt it closing in, and he closed his eyes. He felt soft snowflakes falling upon his nose. He recalled that his family were going to starve, die. Then again they might not. Then again, as he distinctly heard the sound of a ticking clock ending it's last rotation, he wondered if that even mattered. All that mattered was the last rotation. Where he would stop. He felt a calmness wash over him, a zen like state that not even the most trained and patient monk could attain with decades of practice and dedication.
There was a loud bang as the gunshot fired, but the clock hand wasn't finished yet. The man opened his eyes, and coughed his lifeblood all over the snow. The ticking was so loud now that his eardrums felt about ready to burst.
But nonetheless there I was. As I was for some. I stood above him, and let the pure white divinity fall softly upon my black cloak as I watched his last moments stoically. He seemed to understand, weather by delusion or a strange twist of reality at the end, he certainly understood. I smiled under my black hood. I like an interesting death. Of course, he couldn't see that. How disappointing.
The blood finished pouring all over the fragile sheet of ice, staining it until it ended. The warmth, colour, and future drained from his body as the ticking finally finished. I extended my slender and white bony hands and touched his forehead, extracting the clock. I felt the warmth which left him flow into me. The ice began to recede, melt, leaving little but slushy, clear water which quickly ebbed into black mud.
The ticking for him had stopped. However I kept hearing ticking from all around me. Miles away, steady beats all in sync from all across the globe.
My job done, I picked up my scythe from nearby and headed out into the silent streets. The air was still cold and sky still gray, but there was light. From the shop windows or the fires in homes. Or the fires in their tiny little hearts. I've been Death since death was necessary, millenniums, more than that even. Units of time probably not even invented by mortals yet. But I've never enjoyed watching this world more, nor have I ever enjoyed this convenient form more. Shame being death is such hard work sometimes, but at least I've got something to do.
But there was something in the air that I had never felt before. The rhythm of the ticks was feeling just a tad off. The air had a chill to it that I couldn't attribute to cold weather. A shiver down my old beaten spine, and a shift in order my old bones weren't going to like that much...
A small boy sat on the edge of the rooftop that night, looking up at the moon. His eyes looked cold and dead, and the ticking was slowing down significantly. He too could sense everything slowing down, and spotted black clouds obscuring the moon and descending upon the city like a thick fog. And the ice encasing him felt like a warm blanket of comfort, as the ticking slowly reached it's last rotation.
(Yeah I know I left infinite incarnation behind... as well as nearly everything else. I got board, sue me. Oh, and I'll only write more if it's in demand. Actually I'll probably write a few more chapters before condemning it, as this was rather vague and I'm tired. So someone reply with a yay or nay for whatever reason whenever sometime if you want to please.)