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Into the Darkness
The trees rustled in the breeze as the cold day bore on, chilling the occupants of a poor village to their bones. The sun had long since set, the pearly crescent moon now taking its solemn place in the black-as-pitch sky. Paper lanterns hung with an eerie glow from rusty hooks outside each building’s door, lining the length of the lonely main road. The various houses and inns were either built poorly or had lost their former glory; not one shabby wall had a full coat of paint, not one shingled roof was free of holes, and not one foggy pane of glass was free of cracks.
In most cases, the long stretch of dirt that made up the main road was deserted by that time of night — but this night was different. A lone figure, clad in a long black cloak, was making its way slowly into the village, making no sound even as it moved unto the gravel, rocks and dirt of the road. As it drifted along, the lanterns on either side of it flickered and went out, despite the night’s lack of wind.
Ever so silent, the figure looked through each hole of each building that proved to be windows; searching for something…hunting for something….It turned its hooded gaze away from the window it was closest to, catching sight of someone else slipping just out of sight and into an alleyway. As the figure passed this alleyway by, only to find it deserted except for a half-starved cat and a few plump rats, it continued to drift down the street, eerily snuffing out more candles as it went….It had a job to fulfill, it had a purpose, and it couldn’t afford to stray from its mysterious path.
Again the shadowy thing encountered life: a girl stared at him from a window above, her light eyes straining to pierce the shadows beneath the figure’s cowl. The shadow paused to turn its gaze up to the curious youth; instead of retreating into the safety of her room the girl only gazed at it more intently. “I know who you are,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You took mum away…” But her words were lost as the cloaked figure swept down the street in what would be long strides if its legs were visible.
“I want to come with you,” said a voice, and the cloaked figure paused again to look over its shoulder at the girl. Having followed it down the street, she now stood behind it, a solemnly serious expression adorning her features.
It slowly shook its head, and turned, continuing with its search — then she was there again. “I’ve got no one left, you took them all away. You let them go to a place of peace. I want to go and be in peace as well,” she persisted, her voice still a whisper, but her words bold all the same. “Please let me be with them…”
This time it turned fully around, its movements slow and deliberate. After a moment of staring at the girl, its gaze unwavering, it raised a bony arm, its appearance thin and having the utmost pale hues. The way it waved its right index finger at the girl in a silent “no” was almost hypnotic; after a moment the girl collapsed, asleep.
Your end will not arrive for many years to come…
The thing continued along as if the incident never happened; such worries where useless to the mind. The street was so dark that ground could not be discerned from wall or sky. It was like walking through a dream, or a tunnel with no guiding light at the end. Passing along with ease, the thing resumed its peering into houses, its pace halting no more and its gaze ever watching, fully aware of its surroundings.
Without warning, an ear-splitting scream erupted from several streets over, breaking the haunting silence and causing the dark shadow to turn abruptly around a corner and continue down another, rather darker street than the previous one…heading purposely toward the echoing sound. Above it, a pair of shutters hastily slammed shut, obviously aware of the phantom-like creature’s presence. Oblivious and serenely unfazed from its dutiful course, the cloaked thing glided on and on, ever so slowly, merely taking its time…for it had all the time in the world, of both worlds, living or dead…
Coming to a sudden halt, it turned ominously to face a house whose door had been kicked open and now hung fragilely from its hinges, and drifted inside at a creeping pace, seeming to glide over the threshold. The responding shriek of terror did nothing to cease its advance; it drifted forward still, its hollow gaze upon the horrible wreckage of a mother, who in her blood-soaked arms held the lifeless body of a mere boy. Shadows seemed to grow more pronounced upon its entrance, engulfing the room in pitch blackness. Amid the darkness, the figure’s face was so immensely pale that it seemed to glow as a pure white dot would upon a black canvas. Again it raised an arm, which was as equally pale as its face, to point at the boy, silently beckoning for his soul to follow, with its index finger.
The woman clutched unto her son, her only son of eight years, kneeling in a large puddle of warm, red liquid. She screamed still more, frantic, grieving, pleading, bringing the boy ever closer to her being and bidding the ghastly figure to turn back and leave. She grasped the discarded knife used to murder her son and flung it blindly at the long, thin shadow of a creature, the knife missing the mark by a wide margin and instead imbedding its bloody blade into the wooden wall to the figure’s far left. As her grip tightened on the cold body, the figure drew nearer…its empty eyes beneath its cowl held sight for only the boy, and nothing more. For a fleeting moment, the mother thought that perhaps if she just let go…maybe the dark creature would turn back…
Then he was gone, and her arms, caked with dried blood, were empty. She let loose a gasp of horror, watching her only son, her whole world, depart. She’d let him slip through her fingers…now he was leaving… She called after him, pleading for him to return, but he did not. He didn’t look back. He didn’t bid her good-bye. He couldn’t hear her screams of agony….He showed no sign of knowing she was there at all…for only silence reached his ghostly ears. Before her vision went black from the overwhelming grief, the mother noticed for the first time the gleaming sickle carried by the figure as her son followed Death into the everlasting darkness…
- Title: Into the Darkness
- Artist: Picklocks
- Description: A short story I made in class last year; it is also featured in my journal but in the arena it should get more action. I have not yet dedicated this story to anyone, and because it is gloomy I hope I don't ever have to.
- Date: 11/28/2008
- Tags: into darkness grim reaper death
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Comments (3 Comments)
- Warrior Gouta - 12/04/2008
- Serena you're an awesome writer. 3nodding
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- Lord of the Shadow Sword - 11/28/2008
- Awesome sad and awe inspiring at the same time simply magnificent
- Report As Spam
- demon_eyes_kyo101 - 11/28/2008
- i love it
- Report As Spam