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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Oct 4, 2019
As his brown hair danced in the wind the boy looked at his reflection in the river, he looked as others would describe as "perfect" execpt the fact he was holding a knife with dripping scarlet blood covering it.
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Lake doesn't like parties, he especially doesn't like getting drunk by drinking the alcoholic punch on accident, and he really doesn't enjoy following his friends to go trick or treating and somehow finding himself lost and alone in a graveyard. There is a tall figure sitting calmly on a large gravestone, so dark he appears as a silhouette, his tapered cloak moving in the wind as though suspended in water. Lake walks up to him, made of curiosity, bravery and booze. The tall man stands to tower over him, in his left hand a scythe is raised and the blade glints in the moonlight, darkness reaching out from him like a thick fog. Cold red eyes pin Lake down. "Who disturbs this halfway realm of death? Who dares to approach the harbinger..." But the little human in front of him seems unafraid. His large blue eyes squint as he reaches through the black fog and presses his hand on his chest. "Wow, that's really cool, how do you do that?"

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