Shadowmark
- Reads 48
- Votes 3
- Parts 2
Ongoing5m
Last published Wed, May 18, 2016
I lay here on a cot, a lockpick in hand, and my other hand rubbing along the elk fur lining the cot. This was my life now I was to rot in this prison for killing a farmer. Which needless to say, he deserved it, but also because it was my contract to. Now I sit here in silence with the body of a dead stranger to keep me company.
I look at the grate beside the man. To the right of it I see a mark etched into the wall, and decide to inspect it.
And that was where my whole life changed.
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I was the greatest thief to ever live. And now the greatest to ever die. But it was on purpose: I've set my sights on stealing something from Death itself. ____________ I watched the grey pavement growing bigger and bigger and the last thing I saw was the silver glint of a scythe. ____________ He... he slowly put his fingers on my chin, ever so lightly grazing my jawline, making me to face him. It was unnatural, mad and terrifying. The Grim Reaper was not meant to touch a mortal. Death's touch sent shivers down my spine, made it hard to breathe and twisted my guts into painful knots. This was not right, I felt it, but couldn't be sure if he felt the same. ____________ (It's highly encouraged to read this story in one sitting to fully be immersed in it.)
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