A quiet cemetery, filled with mourners dressed in black.
A spirit watches, confused as to why no one sees him.
A cowled figure watches him and prepares to reap his soul.
A soul he believes to be pure.
Watching and waiting, the Reaper stares at the spirit intently.
The spirit stares back, into a dark abyss, and is locked in mental co.bat.
The Reaper probes hos mind, his thought and his memories.
A pain like nothing felt in life brings the spirit to his knees.
The pain subsides and eventually fades,
Leaving him unconscious.
He awakens in a cold stone room,
Awaiting judgement.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Short Stories and Poetry
Ficción GeneralA collection of all my short stories, essays, poetry and other things that are too short to have their own story.
