Room

Room (Hall's Writings)

Martin Hall was having a dashingly good sleep, the best he'd had in awhile, right beside his all-around nearly perfect wife, Mercy Hall, after having tucked all of their kids into bed. It might have been strange to some people that, in the 21st century, the Halls had eight children, but neither Martin Hall nor Mercy cared if someone thought them strange, so there wasn't much of an issue. Mr. and Mrs. Hall had been married for a while, and though the pair loved each other deeply, Mercy knew her husband's habits of working day in and day out, even when he didn't have to. She let him do as he felt necessary, but she wished he would take more than a once-a-month break.

That evening, however, Mr. Hall had managed to get to bed with his wife, and put all of his work off to the side, to which Mercy was very happy about. He'd gotten to sleep, but, as fate would have it, was rudely awoken by a knocking that came from the door. Being the only one who got woken up, he sighed and very, very reluctantly got out of bed. Whomever was knocking must have an excellent reason as to why they were at Hall's door in the middle of the night, interrupting a perfect slumber.

Hall quietly soothed his wife into a calm sleep after she'd woken up slightly to ask where he was going, then dressed quickly, wanting to still be presentable. There were some things he would never stray from, and one of those things was public appearance. Quite like his political opponent, Mr. Theodore Mercury, Hall took great pride in how he made first impressions on people, and how he kept face with them. Even if Hall was to slam the door in this person's face, at least they would know that Hall's style was impeccable, and that he was quite the gentleman for giving them the time of day.

He eventually got to the door, where the mystery person had knocked on the door a whole twenty-five times, somehow not waking up anyone else in the Hall household. Hall grumbled something about his children being mistaken for corpses once during a school-wide game of Graveyard, having actually just fallen asleep, and stumbled through the dark to the door.

Finally, Hall put all of his tired anger into opening the door with as much gusto as he thought necessary, and said, in a very clear and annoyed voice, "Why are you at my door at such an obscene time and what ever could you need at this hour?"

The man at the door (for it most likely wasn't a woman, there was Ax body cologne radiating in waves off of them) had an enormous black hood covering his face, to which was connected a thick, black coat that hung from the man's form. It was during the witching hour, and as the street lights down Hall's street slowly flicked off, one by one, the chances of Hall getting a glimpse under the man's hood became less and less. Hall had a brief thought to turn on the porch light, but banished the thought quickly out of his mind as he concluded that it might come off as inviting to the grimmly dressed stranger.

"Ah, Mr. Hall," said the man, his voice a gravelly tenor that shook Hall to his core, "I'm so glad I found you. I would like it if you could come with me, please."

Hall frowned, the motion creasing his forehead. "What do you need me for? Whatever it is, I'm quite certain that you can ask me of it from my door. Besides, I don't even know you, why should I come with you, man?"

With a deep, rumbling chuckle, the man reached out a gloved hand and gripped Hall's arm, holding it in a vice-like squeeze, cutting the circulation off very effectively. Hall made a strangled yelp, and twisted his arm as he tried to get away. He tried to move his legs and run back into his home, but the man's grip was cold, unbreaking and unyielding, only getting tighter around his arm. Hall's heartbeat picked up as his breathing became laboured, and his blood ran cold, the figure becoming more and more the embodiment of death in his eyes, standing on his doorstep to steal away his soul.

He tried to speak, and say 'it's not my time, I have so much to finish! Begone, Reaper, from my home, I have a life I still wish to complete!', but all that was torn from his lips was a second strangled yelp.