I was picking up another soul, coincidentally in the same area, when I heard a hum. Then another. And another. And suddenly there was a strong ringing. Now you, whatever foolish thing you are doing, put it down. Stop. Because you must understand that every time I hear a hum, it means death. And this was the first time I had heard such noise. It was a curious noise. Later on, I learned to despise it. But I must keep my inner monologues to myself, I suppose? So I swept to a lonely field, but it was not lonely anymore. Possibly 50 uncivilized cretins were doing the unthinkable, and the sort of action you don't get out of your skull. The boy from the house, grown up, was being clawed-CLAWED-to death. I knew why. Just because he was smarter, ahead of his time, meant he was a threat. Of course he was. And I must admit, I was rather anxious to see what he could make with his humanly ways and his humanly actions. Cringing as I did so, I extracted the soul, relieved to find that was almost pure. I left and took it to 1 but would probably send it to 2 or 3 eventually. That was my second visit, but the third was so drastically different. I believe I might have died a little bit inside, if that's possible. I just died a little.
YOU ARE READING
Empty Soul
FantasíaYou've probably heard a few fairytales in your life. Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, something cutesy. He tells a different one. Not about life. About what lies after it.
