HALLUCINATE | THE SANDMAN

ONE

CHAPTER ONE
[ The Harbinger of Death ]
"If I can figure out where he was,
I can work out where he is"

TIME WAS A CONCEPT OFTEN TAKEN FOR GRANTED. It was a ticking clock always marching to the end in the background of everyone's mind's with little knowledge of what would come following the conclusion. The Grim Reaper waited for the days when every human met their demise. Wielding a scythe and shrouded in a dark cloak that concealed her boney body, she'd step out of the darkness and bring the haunting weapon down upon their corpse, tearing the essence of their souls from the confines of the host body.

Azrail wasn't sure when she took up the mantle, it felt like a job she always had followed since the creation of humanity. She'd stalk across the earthly plain, concealed from the sight of mere mortals and in search of anyone unfortunate enough to have met the conclusion of their life clock. Whereas Death was determined to give them a friendly face and nice word to escort them beyond the mortal plain, the Grim Reaper cared very little for comfort and would prefer to accomplish the job in quick succession. Azrail would never understand Death's outlook on the finale of everyone's life, she figured it was only right to accomplish the soul taking within little time because it was an ever-changing list.

It felt like a natural instinct for the Angel of Death and she never thought twice about it. She was happy where she was and found no desire for more or to wish for a different job. The cosmic entities were intricately designed by a higher power to carry out what naturally could no occur. No questions asked, but that never stopped curiosity.

For the eternity that they had walked across the earth, Azrail had stumbled into the different realms out of pure curiosity as to what they looked like. Through her invasive behaviour, she had inevitable caused other entities to grow annoyed by her appearance, but some grew to accept her.

                 Azrail was in her normal spot between the mortal and immortal plain when she heard the news. The sleepy sickness had unexpectedly plagued the globe, leaving the Grim Reaper at a loss of words. She became quickly confused as she stalked through the long halls of the hospital, distracted by the sleeping victims that resembled a corpse too much for her liking. Her oversized cloak glided behind her, silently whipping the unexpected passerbys who remained unaware of the entities present. Her hood was removed to reveal her defined jawline, lips painted black and dark eyes moving rapidly to examine each and every patient.

                The long scythe remained by her side, the weapon raised as preparation to extract any dying soul and assist them in finding serenity beyond the mortal life. But she couldn't, because none of them were dead. They were all simply asleep and couldn't wake up.

                "What the hell..." Azrail whispered, crouching beside a young boy who was trapped in a deep slumber. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. "What type of phenomenon is this?"