He said he was not there yesterday; however, many people saw him there. His eyes darted back and forth, back and forth between you and the door. He tried to deny the claims again, his scratchy voice strained with desperation. All you did, however, was stare at him in cold silence. Watching. Observing. Looking. As you watched the young teenager, you waited for them to come.
"Please! I'm begging you! I wasn't there, I swear!" He sobbed, tears were streaming down his face, like a river flowing over a cliff.
"Just let me go! I'm innocent! Please! Just let me go before they get here." You shook your head at him in response.
"You know what it means when you're able to enter the graveyard."
"It was just a stupid dare!" He yelled at you. Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled at you. His eyes were red, puffy, and filled with hatred. You watched, indifferent. You had dealt with this situation countless times before. Why should it matter now?
He quieted down and hung his head low. He cried softly, whimpering with grief at his own misfortune. It was pathetic. But, a part of you felt guilty. The back of your conscience whispered at you to let the young boy go. He was after all only 15 years old. The mark on your chest burned uncomfortably as you watched the boy slump into his seat, defeated. You scratched at the white cotton uniform, trying to get the burning to go away.
"I don't want to die." He whispered. You sighed. "No one does, kid. But, you were able to cross into the Deadlands, that means your time is up here on this planet."
"You can cross into the Deadlands." He shot back.
"I'm Deathmarked, kid. I can't die no matter what." You sighed. The door creaked open behind you. Two officers stepped in, both dressed in dark black uniforms, the mark of the scythe imprinted on their shirt. They took the boy away. The boy didn't even struggle, he just slumped onto the ground as they dragged him to Death. You sighed, the Mark on your chest stopped burning. You wanted them to not send him to death, but what could you do. You were Marked. A Grim Reaper.
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Short Stories
Short StoryI get a word from the random word generator and base a short story around that word. Or just write whatever. I'll try to update once a week on Friday's. Unless I forget, which is often sooooooooo... don't expect consistent updates. Anyways, hope you...
