Dusk (A Twilight Rewrite)

Preface

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I'd never given much thought to how I would die - though at my age it was expected. The feeling of invincibility of the youth's first few days of adulthood, only to be hit with the dreading reality that each day we're more closer to the jaws of death — getting the long desperate answer of if there ever was an afterlife or a god.

I stood there staring at the dark abyss of what I assumed to be a long pitch black hallway — the red eyes of a cloaked stranger pierced into my crumbling soul, his tight boney fingers gripped his cold sharp scythe — I knew why he was here, what he wanted, I should be scared.

But due to me having a good way to die — in the place of people I loved — it was more comforting than anything, poetic even.

The stranger started to walk towards me, he ran the sharp edge of his harvest instrument against the wall in the process. I could hear the ear bleeding sound of it making contact with the drywall — thankfully the rising sound of my heart pounding began to block it out, I didn't run away — not like I could anyways, I gave up long ago.

A part of me wonders if this was all destined to happen, or could I have avoided it all if I never took foot outside home — if curiosity and obsession didn't get the better of me?...then again, if this was all of my doing — then I wouldn't have it any other way.

He stood there, I could feel dry cold wind brushing against my skin...it was comforting — I closed my eyes.

The Reaper lifted his scythe, ready for the kill.

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