Birds of a Feather (Apocalypse AU)

Reaper

The wraith, that's what they called him. Materializing out of the fog that covered the fields each night, he left and came as quickly and quietly as death himself. Where he walked, the grass wilted and turned black and the winds grew silent. Even the mist knew not to move when he descended upon the land.

The wraith sucked the time out of the landscape, everything standing still as he waded through the sea of grass, everything quiet as if muffled in the ocean depths.

No one had seen him. No one knew why he was there. No one knew what he wanted. No one was safe.

They hadn't even realized what was happening until they checked on their food stores one day to find half of it gone. An argument had broken out among the residents, accusations and cursing flying as tempers flared in the hot wind. They had gone to bed with an uneasy feeling in their minds and a hole in their stomachs. Rationing was now an unfortunate necessity.

One night, one of the night guards was dozing off in their position when a stick cracked. Eyes snapping open, they grabbed their gun and brought it into position, peering below the star-studded sky. Scanning the fog, they couldn't see anything and slowly lowered their gun back down. Turning to look down fondly upon the dim lights of the sleeping camp, they gasped, heart in their throat, when they saw a dark figure gliding up the hill away from the camp. As the individual vanished into the mist, the guard hastily picked up their gun, bolting from their post to alert the other guards and the leader.

Gathering in the main room, the soldier's voice shook as they quickly recounted what they had seen. Skeptical, the leader looked on with his eyebrows raised as the rest of the guards laughed. A ghost, they chuckled. The soldier bowed their head in embarrassment as everyone went back to their posts, ready to share rumors in the morning.

A few hours later, the camp awoke to shouting and banging from the kitchens. The leader came out of his tent only to find a child running away from the kitchen crying, their mother yelling angrily and trailing behind closely. Walking to the kitchen, he saw through the hysteric screaming and yelling, the pans laid haphazardly on the dirty gray counters, and the residents frantically rummaging through cabinets and checking closets. Another fourth of their food was gone. Vanished.

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. Time for another meeting I guess. Things like this couldn't keep happening. It wasn't sustainable...

Pulling aside his friend, he shouted above the noise into his ear, "get all the watchers in here, we need to chat." His friend nodded and began to weave through the crowd, pulling out people and talking to them.

Alone in the main room, he put his head in his hands and rested on the table. After thinking for a minute, his eyes shot open and he stood up suddenly. Rushing out of the door, he scanned the crowd for the soldier from last night.

Time to prove that ghosts were real.