The bullet flew out of the gun and entered the body of a girl. Regardless of her outfit’s swanky style, the bullet pierced her body and through an order of events lead to her death. Though to the observer the death happened fairly quickly, the girl felt this conclusion to her mortality slowly end feeling an amount of pain far and above a trifle of agony. She opened her eyes to find her feet still planted on the ground as they had been before her unfortunate demise. In awe of her liveliness her eyes searched for clues to what had just happened. In a single gasp she saw a frightening sight. Before her gaping mouth was an exact duplicate of herself. Possibly it was her twin or maybe a clone but despite these optimistic possibilities she knew what it was or what it had been, for there was no doubt about it as the blade of a scythe slithered around her thin and measly torso. She grasped the scythes blade in an attempt that turned out quite vain to escape the farmer of souls. The final and last bonds between body and soul were snapped dragging her toward the shepherd of the dead. Through the crowd, through a car, and even through a wall she was dragged, hopelessly away. A startling chill ran through her mind and she felt a cold gloved hand grab her by the shoulder. In a single glimpse of her captor she saw the being nightmares are made of. Bleeding into the shadows of the day, the cloak of the figure was essence of sadness. Hooded by the cloak, his face was impossible to see past the darkness cast over his face.
“Follow me,” spoke his bone chilling voice. He flicked his wrist in the direction he was heading. Involuntarily her legs began following him.
“Huh, no, what’s going on!?” she franticly blurted attempting with all her might to control her legs. Before long they entered a brick walled alley. To her it appeared to go on forever. A startling sound drew her head to the area behind her. It was then that she found that the wall behind them, the very bricks which had formed the alley were moving in every which way now hiding the forgotten alley from the living’s eyes. The air around them began to get thin and chilly. Turning her head back from the mutating wall she found a sight that drained her soul of every last drop of solemn happiness. People or what seemed at first people sat leaned against the walls of the alley. The longer she looked at them the less she thought of them as people, for they were mutated to such a degree that some looked like chimps. Her hands, grabbed by the soul reapers hands, were lifted up to her ears.
“Do not listen to their cries, for if you do entirely you too will become one of them destroyed by time,” Death spoke releasing her hands. She tightened the hands on her ears, through the hands she could the muffled cries of those people, the sounds almost made her cry which was strange for her. The Sadness that filled her heart at hearing the cries was almost too great for her to bear. Within moments the cries faded into silence as they entered a part of the alley with an almost never ending darkness before them. The darkness seemed to accentuate just how cold it was causing her hands to immediately fold attempting in vain to conserve the non-existent heat resonating off her soul. At one point Death stopped walking forward and she had control over her legs once more. “What is your name?” he quietly asked.
“Serena,” she solemnly replied.
“This is as far as I go Serena; you must carry on alone until you meet with my Ally. He will escort you the rest of the way,” he explained. A compulsion pushed her to continue walking inward toward the never-ending darkness.
She did not know if it had been seconds, minutes, hours or even years before the saw a small glimmering but dim light at the end of the darkness. A figure stood here dressed similar to the way Death had except instead of a scythe he had a long sword which was stabbed into the ground. His eyes however glowed in a dim green aura, illuminating his demonic looking eyes. He pulled his sword from the ground and prevented her from walking with out slicing herself in half.
“You have two choices. Choice A. You can quench your curiosity by following me into the world of the dead where the Blood Moon sheds its light and has chosen you for a very powerful position. Choice B. You can return to life as if what has happened here never occurred. Your choice is the one you shall have,” he spoke softly.
I now ask you the reader, what you would do? Return to the world of the living to continue to enjoy your good times with your friends or continue to the world of the dead to obtain an unimaginable destiny. The Blood Moon only chooses one out of a million every time it awakens from its deep and profitable slumber.
What would you choose?
