Short Stories

1. Death

   Prompt 943 :Generosity's death from Tumblr

(switched up the wording)

     Blood. I could smell the blood. Tangy, sweet and succulent which was deliciously enough to entice my senses. Death. He had a two o'clock shadow patched on his checks which complemented his week old stubble. His smell was eccentric. Cigarette smoke mixed with old spice and breath mints. It was quite flattering now that I thought about it, the way he prepared himself for my death.

    I smiled at death's generosity and looked him in his soulless orbs. He reached out his bony fingers to rub one of my fresh wounds. The fingernails on his fingers were like blades. He dug deeper into the wounds hissing like the vile creature he was. I moaned and whimpered at his killer touch. Blood, and more blood. Matted in my hair, painted on my skin, and smeared on my neck.

   "I shall kill you slowly, yes?" he asked with such loathe. I nodded and he didn't waste anytime throwing his hands into the pit of my spleen and ripping out my lungs. Such hate and force put into one movement it was enough to send anyone into tears. But I only took what I deserved. 

Death. He flicked his tongue against my flesh,eating away every drop of blood that decided to slip from my cuts. They way his cracked lips touched my ears made my body chill, and when he laughed on my skin I couldn't help but shudder.

    To be death's victim was enough to drive anyone insane. And I knew that would be what I was once I was dead and this was all over. His hands ran over the tool strategically placed on the rack as if he were choosing the best one for my death. I was told he choose the one that frightened you the most,the one that would make you scream for the sake of your life which was already gone.

   "Aha," he said picking up the whip covered in tiny bristles of spikes. It reached out towards me and created a perfect lash on the rim of my belly. Crimson trails slid down my skin and that tickled. At first it did,until it was replaced my a hot burning sensation that I couldn't help but moan to. Death seemed to like that, he seemed to enjoy it way to much,flicking his tongue out once again to suck up my wound. "Any last words." he asked,an eyebrow raised.

    And there weren't any I could say but one. "No."

   So with that he picked up the gun and aimed it straight for my heart. He never missed,not once,and he shot me ten times. The same number of times I had dodge him for so many years. As my eyes fluttered shut and all the life I had was quickly dying out I looked Death into his eyes and frowned,because it was never my fault he wanted to save me.