Feathers and snow slowly fall from the sky as I am lying on the ground waiting my turn for death to take me in his arms to where I belong. I've been waiting and wishing and hoping that my time will come. Soon enough I say. Day after day on this godforsaken hill I wait for him to show up, but it never happens. All I see are snow flakes, as fragile as glass, and feathers falling to the ground. Not a bird can be found, only empty shells of where they came from. Two months,one week, three days. I've wandered these woods trying to find a way out. With no luck I've settled here tired, hungry, and numb. There are shadows in the dark and I hear the pounding of my heart speeding as they close in on me. Has my time come to leave this world for a better one? A figure of black silken feathers slowly stalks near, cloaked in a veil, a crown of black roses and thorns upon it's head. It calls out my name in a hollow empty whispering tone. Here comes death to take me away in his carriage of black to fly in the sky like the birds way up high then back down through the ground six feet under where I shall lie. For the rest of my days, under this dirt, snow and feathers, rotting away till the end of time.
