The Light in my Darkness

A figure sits in a desk chair in a gloomy dungeon, possibly a study, reading a novel. His name is Death. Although the name suggests that he is a criminal mastermind or a monster, he is no such thing. Death has devoted his eternity to sentencing criminals to death and making sure their death is terrifying. He stands, places his book on his dusty wooden table, possibly antique, and floats to the window, lifting the curtain to see outside into the gloomy night. The light from the streetlights spreads into the room, illuminating his face. And what a terrifying sight! Bones are sticking through the flesh and skin is peeling away. He has blood and flesh dripping off his chipped bones and his also bloodied hood is black, ragged and brooding. You would understand why everyone's so scared of him. He glances at the moon and, by the gap between himself and it, deciphers what time it is. It is midnight on the anniversary of his death. The night he's allowed outside to try to change.

It's time.