A Nightly Visit
I was just a kid at the time, and I didn’t know what was happening. The paranormal wasn’t something I thought much about, outside of the occasional Goosebumps book, but I wasn’t easily frightened. I can remember it happening like it was yesterday. My room was rather small, and my bed took up most of the space. My bed faced the door that I always kept open, and the light from the hallway would gently light my room in place of a nightlife.
I’m not sure exactly how many times she visited or for how long she stayed each time, but as I lay in bed, the others in my house already asleep, I would see her come into my room. She’d come through the door very casually and completely silent. A tall woman with light hair, not quite blonde but with an auburn tint, that was tied in a messy bun on the back of her head. She wasn’t a small woman, wide hips and shoulders, but her waist was narrow. She wore a skirt and a long sleeve blouse, but the colors were dull, grayed out, as was her skin. I’d pretend to be asleep the first few times, too anxious to face this woman head on, and as I lay with my eyes closed, she’d sit at the foot of my bed and watch me.
At the time, it felt like it lasted forever, but it was probably only a few minutes before she’d get up and leave the way she came, a gentle smile on her face as she looked back before disappearing out the door. Sometimes, on her visits, she’d place a hand on my face or brush a stray hair back into place. Though unnerved by her appearance, I was never scared. She always had a motherly feel and I could almost imagine that it was my own mother there, checking on me at night. Except my mother was much smaller in height and had much more difficulty being quiet.
It wasn’t until much later, years later, that I mentioned this to my mother. And on hearing my description of this mystery lady my mother was almost in tears. She told me that the woman I described was her mother, my grandmother, who had died just weeks before I was born. She told me how much she had been looking forward to my birth until a fast progressing cancer took her life. She never got to meet me, my mom told me, and that must have been her way of knowing me.
He was running through the forest for what felt like an eternity. The night sky was empty of stars, so he had no way of knowing which way he was headed. All he knew was that he had to get away. Escape was all he could think about. He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was running from. Something had just appeared in front of him in his house. He didn’t waste any time, he bolted out his front door and though he couldn’t see whatever it was anymore, he knew it was right behind him.
“God, no,” He whispered as a he ran. There was a thick fog rolling in and it was making it hard to see the ground. And in this terrain, he really needed to be able to see where he was going. He knew he would trip, it was only a matter of when. And how close whoever, or whatever, was chasing him was when it happened. Unfortunately for him, death was always close behind.
Just as he predicted, the fog got too thick and his foot got caught under a branch and he crashed to the ground. He felt his skin cut and scrape against the foliage on the ground but ignored the pain. Before he could climb to his feet again however, the one chasing him appeared in front of him. It was a large figure, in an all-black cloak. It loomed over him like a predator studying its prey. The man sobbed quietly, an immense fear taking over him. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but looking at the figure, what he had thought it was the first time he saw him in his house was somehow confirmed. This figure was death. And he was there to take his life.
“Please, I beg you,” He spoke through his sobs as he pulled himself onto his knees. He bent forward and bowed to the creature in a desperate attempt to beg for his own life.
“Don’t kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Death said as he watched the man sob. “That’s not what I do.” Deaths voice was surprisingly soft. There was no harshness to it, no sense of urgency, nothing that would have given any hint of the situation that the man found himself in.
“You won’t kill me?” The man was confused as he lifted his head. He looked up at the hooded figure, trying to see underneath the hood, but all that was there was a black mass. He watched Death reach a hand into his cloak and pull out a scroll. He unrolled it and studied it for a few moments in silence.
“Though, according to this, it seems the loss of your life is perhaps not the most terrible of things. You have quite the record of evil doings, young man.” Death chided and clicked his tongue. “So much evil in one little human. How can you possible live with yourself? Though, I suppose, you have at least not taken a life.”
“I haven’t done anything, I swear.” A cold shiver ran through his body and he knew it had nothing to do with the frigid temperatures.
“Oh? Well, says here you had some very questionable moral judgments with a young lady named Marina. Done some pretty unforgiving acts to her, it seems.”
“No, I was never charged.” He cried. His money and privilege had made sure of that.
“Oh, I care nothing about your human trials.” The man sobbed some more, knowing he was not going to walk away alive, no matter what this creature said. “I believe I am right on time,” Death commented to himself. He pulled the scroll down a little and looked over it at the desperate man. “It should happen at any moment now.”
And with that a shot rung out.
It hit the man directly in the heart. He didn’t even have time to comprehend what had happened before he fell forward and hit the ground in a heap. Blood pooling out onto the forest floor and soaking into his shirt. Death stared down at him, not a shred of sadness inside him. He watched as a group of hunters hurried over to what they thought was a deer. In the night, with the fog, they couldn’t tell the difference between a kneeling man and a deer. Why would there be a lone man so far into hunting territory anyways? So, when they arrived, and found the man shot through the heart, they weren’t sure how to act. But Death knew exactly what to do.
He reached down to the now dead man of evil and pulled out his rotting soul. A small ball of light meant to be pure white, but he found it tainted with black, a result of the many evil doings the man had committed. A fine edition to the realms of hell, he thought and crushed the ball in his hands, releasing a dark puff of smoke that disappeared into the ground.
Death never felt sorry for the things he does. He only goes after those evil human beings anyways. This man had been a small fry in the world of evil, unfortunately, but he found they all behaved in similar ways at the end. The begging, the crying, it was all so overrated. But he could leave this man dead in the woods and know that the human world had been made ever so slightly safer for those good souls. And he could rest assured knowing those good souls remain the majority. He would reap as much evil from the world as he could.
Death stayed around long enough to watch the hunting party panic. He was sometimes curious about the way they reacted to death. He always found it surprising how easily complete strangers would cry over someone’s death without knowing anything about the deceased. This man, for example, was a horrible person, and yet the hunting party still mourned him. That was the kind of good he was trying to protect. But he had more souls to take, more evil to rid the world of, so with one last glance at the dead man, he moved on to his next assignment.
“I heard she’s dating a human,” His eyes studied her as she walked by. “Is she crazy? Humans are such temporary things. It’ll never last.”
“Maybe she’ll finally learn all she needs about the humans and come back home.” She replied, hoping he wouldn’t antagonize over this news for too long.
“She should have never left to begin with.” He raged and stood up suddenly. She stood up to join him, nervous about what he would do. “I won’t let this happen.” There was determination in his eyes as he spread his wings and jumped down to stop her.
When and Why and How
I fell in love with writing in 1st grade, all thanks to the best english teacher I could have ever asked for. He made using your imagination a daily task with crazy prompts to write about every day. From aliens invading the school or suddenly finding yourself invisible, everyday was a new adventure and I loved it. And that's why I write. To find adventure.
When life becomes too routine, too repetitive, too depressing, writing can make everything better. It helps me overcome my problems in life and find meaning in things. It gives me a better perspective on life. Any time I have to do something that I don't want to or think will be unpleasant I tell myself maybe it'll be good writing material and I push forward. Writing has helped me experience new things and live a happier life.
He held her in his arm like a broken toy. Confusion and despair filling his mind as he tried to comprehend what had happened. He was always so aware of her. He had been so careful. How could he have let this happen to her? She was so small, so delicate, so human. He was supposed to protect her. How could this happen?
He pulled her limp body against his chest, holding her as close to him as he could, fighting off the painful tears that were burning his eyes. He never got to tell her he loved her. He was always so scared of it. She was human, he was demon, he knew there was no happy ending for them but this? This was his worst fear. If he knew it was going to end like this, he would have never spoken to her to begin with. He would have sacrificed every happy moment she gave him if it meant she got to live the rest of her life.
He gently laid her body down on the rocky ground. There was no question as to what needed to be done. He was meant to keep her safe and he had failed. He had failed at the only thing that mattered. He unsheathed the dagger that hung on his belt and let the tears escape.
He was almost immortal; he always loved that. He could live forever if he wanted. The only thing that could take his life was this dagger. This shiny, emerald dagger with the beautiful iron hilt. He always kept it with him as a precaution, so no one else could use it against him. But now it was his last option. He admired the blade for a few seconds before plunging it into his heart. He laid himself down beside her and stared at her delicate face. How could he let this happen? His vision began to fade but the despair never did.