'I want to make you a deal.' The old man finally spoke. A deal. Ha.
Last time I'd made a deal, I'd nearly died. Never, ever agree to try to run across a frozen lake for money. Ever. All you'll end up with is hypothermia and a broken leg.
'What kind of deal?' I winced at the sound of my voice; I hadn't spoken in years. Literally.
He stood, supported by a dark oak cane topped with a carved owl, and began to hobble towards a bookcase.
I turned my attention to the room in which we were standing as he began to rumage through books , their pages yellow and their spines cracked. The room was, in a sense, old. The building itself was new, built within the past five years infact, but the room felt like it was trapped in a time hundreds of years before. Pale shafts of light penetrated the shadows created by the dark oak furniture, revealing the specks of dust floating in the air like millions of stars. The desks and tables were cluttered with papers and momentos from countries I had only read about, and paintings on the walls stared down at me.
The man returned and gently placed a small book in front of me. The cover was almost completely faded, the title all but gone. I could tell that the book had once been purple, and the title was something along the lines of 'Neromcy'.
Necromancy. Of course.
He scratched his scraggly white beard, pushed his glasses further up his nose and opened the book, a sparkle in his usually dull eyes.
'I've been studying Necromancy for a while now. Would you like assist me?'
I snorted.
'If by assist you mean 'be my test subject' then no thank you sir, the offer is awfully kind but I'd rather not, though letting me suffer intense agony in order to complete an impossible task is such a great idea,' I spit, the sarcasm dripping like acid from my tongue. I had dabbled in Necromancy before, watched my friend subject himself to it. For all the pain and effort it took, all that happened was a puff of smoke like something from a magic show, and a lot of screaming. In the end, he remained dead, if not a little insane from the things he saw. There was no way I was going to do it again, let alone to myself. In my selfish opinion, I'd already suffered enough.
I still remember the day I died. The memory will never leave me.
Twelve year old me sat on a stone bridge, legs dangling over the edge and swinging back and forth as I watched some ducks frolicking in the sparkling water below. Fingers of sunlight reached through the cherry trees, warming me with their soft touch. It was one of those days when you feel like you're invincible. How ironic. I looked up to see my smaller brother, Taiga, wandering towards me.
'Come on, Taiga, let's go home or dad will yell at us again.' I warned. He smiled goofily and nodded. I lifted him onto my shoulders and we walked through the forest, towards our home, laughing all the while. It was only as we reached the house that I sensed something was wrong. Mother and Father were still seated in the same places they had been when we left, their breafasts still only half eaten. It only took me a few seconds to notice the stab wounds and the lifeless grey eyes.
'Why are Mummy and Daddy still eating?' I remember Taiga asking innocently. He didn't understand. I just stood there, shaking my head and whispering a prayer. He wandered up to our parents, prodding at their faces with a chubby finger. I was by then wailing loudly. If only I'd stayed silent.
A man appeared in the doorway, just behind Taiga, who finally realised what was going on. His eyes grew wide and he tottered towards me.
'Who's that man, Ryuuhei?' He asked me, clutching my arm. I didn't answer. My eyes were transfixed on the bloody knife in his hand.
'Taiga, run.' I hissed. He didn't move.
'Why?' He asked. The man was walking closer, his steps purposeful.
'Taiga, run now!' I shouted, pushing him towards the front door with all my might. In a flash , the man lunged forwards stabbed him in the eye, the blade tearing the eyeball from the socket. He screamed my name, but the word was cut short as the man finished him with a swift movement. He wiped the blade on his jacket and strolled towards me. I had just pushed my brother to his death.
I felt a fear then that I had never felt before. This was not some petty fear of spiders or the dark, where you feel a slight rush of adrenaline and then walk away. This was the kind of fear that made your legs turn to mush, your skin drip with sweat and your eyes to grow wider than you previously thought possible. The kind of fear that, once it took hold, you had no way out of, no 'emergency exit' signs or the like.
The man reached me, and I snapped, grabbing a knife from the table and launching at him. "You bastard!" I screamed, slashing at his flesh. This earned a laugh as he brought his own blade down on my cheek, slicing easily through my skin. Screaming again, I brought my blade down onto his stomach, but it didn't break the skin. Looking down at my chest, I saw his blade running red with blood. My blood. He brought it out, and before I could crumple he forced the knife back in, then out, then in again until he had stabbed me five times. I still clung onto my life, but it faded. Turning my head, the last thing I saw was Taiga looking at me with one dead eye. Then, nothing.
The old man with glasses chuckled, the sound echoeing through my head.
'I assure you, this won't hurt a bit.'
