Despair
Death is inevitable, Death is cruel, Death is a part of all life; Young, old, good, bad, healthy, or ill. Death waits to collect souls from the dregs of society; the scum.
Now, Death rarely steps up to earth, he prefers to sit and marvel at the many evil souls that pass through. He enjoys the fear on their faces when they realise Death is real and they will be punished for all eternity.
So he isn’t pleased when told to investigate this incident. Especially because he has been sent by God. He always believed God was a child with an ant farm. Watching everyone from on high and smiting them when they didn’t meet his standards. God welcomes the saved “good “ souls.
Death enjoys dealing his punishments to the criminals of the world but never understood God’s way of making the young ill; poor suffering angels.
Death rests upon his steed; black as coal, muscular, teeth set in a dank yellow grimace with an aura of red. The red surrounds them, hot as the sun and so bright anyone that saw it would go blind.
Luckily they were alone. Well, almost.
His steed, magnificent with ebony fur, snorted, steam pouring from its nostrils, protesting due to the cold.
It was a dark starry night yet no stars could be seen when Death was near. The atmosphere was heavy, fog enveloping the land scape. Wind whistles through the mountains singing a sad song.
In front of Death was a remote village that was once thriving with life. Cottages with thatched roofs, gardens that grew vegetables and herbs. Farms with the biggest animal that could withstand the harsh winds. A place filled with the hardest of folk blacksmiths, bakers, families, children, pets. Self sustaining and very productive.
Now it lay dark, depressing, dead.
Death sighed moving closer, snow melting in his wake. Eyes of the dead glaring at him, red flicking in their eyes.
His eyes cast over the derelict mass. Nothing left but the sombre whispers of the souls in the wind. The village was baron, bodies trapped in the ice in their death pose. They should’ve decayed a long time ago but were now frozen in time.
A disaster had struck that night.
Death wondered why so many souls he didn’t recognise had arrived. He wouldn’t normally care but it wasn’t the villages time. This disaster wasn’t in the time line. It was brought on by someone and that someone is hiding.
Death can normally see when someone is turning tricks and if it’s a small thing like stealing or a little murder he doesn’t care, that person will get their karma. But this time he didn’t see it, not even a sniff.
Standing tall upon his horse the glow of red dwarfing the starry night sky he groaned,
“Let’s get to work “
Never ever written in my life.
I don't know if this is the right place just to fool around and learn from nice people. Maybe it's a good concept, maybe not.
Thanks for looking.
