The Peculiar Demise

Many people underestimate the power of death. They simply don't understand the longing one may feel, or the reasons behind those deep wishes for the rough skeletal hands to grasp your soul and take advantage of everything you aren't. All of the pain, hope, failures; just waiting to get a strong enough hold on your heart to slit it out of your very body and create a monster. I understand though, because I am not like those other people. My name is Allasie Voltaire, and I am not your average person. I have "gifts" that make me similar to the devil himself... in fact, I am often called the devil by my classmates. If you are mortal, I am sure you are familiar with the tale of Miss Peregrine and her peculiar children, and while my story may consist of similar portions, I am not one of them. My ability is death. Simple as that, no strings attached. I cannot return your loved ones back to you from the grave, but I am quite often the reason they are put there. Every tear you've shed out of love has given me life essentially. I understand death, simply because I am death.  

You may be wondering why a figure of death would be talking about the emotions one feels while finally being removed from this drab world. Well, you might not know this, but death is not immortal. Neither am I. Contrary to what you would imagine, I don't live in a fiery cavern with the crude man in the red suit and bloody horns. Quite the opposite actually. Just like you, I live on earth, heavily feasting on normal human food; my house is not so different from the vast majority of you middle-classed people and I can die in any way, at any time, anywhere. In fact, I appear to be so ordinary that I could very well be sitting right next to you as an average looking 19 year old female with rich blonde hair that has the strong aroma of fresh flowers, but a short bob that prevents you from actually smelling it closely.  For your sake though, I sincerely hope I'm nowhere near you.   

"Kiss it all better, I'm not ready to go..." the music plays a soft hum in the background of my thoughts. Kiss it All Better, by He is We. A good song I must say, and most fitting for the occasion. More prominent in my thoughts are the screams of complete agony coming from the crumpled man in front of me, as my golden-brown eyes glare at his grotesque form on the ground and watch the deep crimson fluids flow silently out of his upper abdomen and across the fresh pale snow surrounding us.   

"It's not your fault love you didn't know, you didn't know." His head shakes violently as he tries to view his foggy surroundings. Naturally, I'm the only one there and I can't help him now. Even if I could, I probably wouldn't. We're almost at the best part.   

"Her hands are so cold and he kisses her face and says, "Everything, will be alright"!" Unfortunately, this poor man has no love. No wife, no children, disowned by his family for innumerable reasons; he was thirty-seven and contemplating a painful suicide anyway. Poor fellow, had no idea how to do it. I'm doing him a favor! This is not murder, this is a redeeming grace! I stare intently as Damion Yates's eyes roll into the back of his head and slowly the rest of his fluids release onto the dyed, once fresh snow. By the time he is found, there will be nothing but a frozen body laying on a pile of deep red with some yellow appropriately. With no evidence, the case will be closed as a stabbing of some sort and the body buried. Of course, I am no barbarian and as such I will naturally invite myself to the funeral as soon as I get word of its date, I won't even have to hide because no one will be there for him anyway.    

"He noticed the gun and his rage grew inside and he said I'll avenge my lover tonight!" I wonder if anyone will miss Damion. Will anyone cry over his painful demise or will he be as forgotten as he was alive? How will his parents feel now that they have lost their son forever? Too many unanswered questions lay with this broken man and I find it a shame that I cannot wait long enough to uncover the answers. Sprinting away into the nearby Ecuador Cloud Forest and safety of the mist I hear the police sirens rushing through the almost empty streets. Obviously someone heard the screams and called them away from their yummy dose of donuts and coffee to save a recently deceased man from his suffering. Boy, what a surprise they'll get!