T W E N T Y - E I G H T
Urban JungleTHERE IS JUST something about being alone that wrecks my nerves, causing a bundle of anxiousness to erupt deep within me. Sure, there were times in which I absolutely adored being alone due to the fact that it provided me the wonderful opportunity to think. It was a time for reflection and evaluation. Unfortunately, at a time like this where any second could be my last, being alone also makes me afraid.
I am afraid that something or someone could just attack me from behind. If that happened, there will not be a chance for me to even know what hit me until I am six feet under. There was nothing in this world that mattered more to me than my friends and family and hence I am afraid that I would lose my friends since I could not be there to help them in case they were met with the face of trouble. With them all currently split up and injured, anything could happen. The possibilities of a disaster occurring were endless and this fact made me weak at the knees in fear.
Time was passing by way too fast, and in what seemed like a blink of an eye, it was already nightfall with stars glittering in the night sky. Tonight, the stars were not blocked by the mass accumulation of dark clouds. They glittered brilliantly against the noir canvas of the night sky, shining like a thousand gemstones that were positioned to form those brilliant constellations that held so much meaning and story to each connection. The stars seemed to be telling a tale and watching one happen at the same time. Located so very far away, they seemed unbothered by the harsh effects of reality and how I craved to be like them; to be among the stars.
But for all of that, now was simply not the time to dream. It was the time to survive.
At exactly 8:25 in the evening, the skies were already a pitch black. Strangely, the sun did not set at the usual 5 p.m. as it would on any other usual winter evening. That was the way in which I had always been used to; longer days in the summer and prolonged nights that felt like an eternity when winter hits. Whether the late sunset was a good sign or not, I could not too sure. After all, Death had made all the good situations into those in favor of him instead. Every single second was like walking on thin ice. The grounds of reality and stability could break at any given time.
There was a creak in each step I took, the old wood seemingly breaking even further whenever weight was applied to it.
"Someone really needs to renovate this place. If the police doesn't knock it down into rubble after we are all free, that is." I thought silently to myself, frowning as I examined the ratty old wooden planks that made up the floor. "The blood that they will have to clean off is atrocious and enough to make even the toughest of souls to gag."
Down the journey, I kept my eyes peeled wide open for any signs of items resembling the 'strings' in Death's little riddle. His strange affection for cryptic messages had definitely not gone unnoticed. At this rate, I might even have the chance to be able to laugh about this one day in the future and dub him as the 'riddle boy' whenever I recall this unfortunate tale to whomever which are willing to listen.
Unfortunately, with each new riddle, my heart was also growing weaker and weaker in terms of courage and bravery. There was only so much in which a person is able to take before they come crashing down. I am just hoping that I could hold in more than I give myself credit for.
With three orbs down, my skin was getting back the color it had lost on the first night. Though it wasn't as fully opaque as a normal human being should be, I am finally not as ghastly as a ghost as well. It teetered on a sharp blade in between, with just the right amount of pale and just the right amount of bright. And yet, I still felt sick to my bones. Every inch of my muscles was aching and the cut on my palm was starting to sear once more due to the intense cold.
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Kisses From Death | Book 1
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