Death’s Gift In the coldest, darkest phase of night while the moon itself withered and pale faced hung in the desolate sky struggling with malevolent armies of dark bellied clouds, in a room decorated with absolute silence lay a body shrunk in size with the preying disease, deep in sleep, dead to the eyes of the onlooker but herself lost in the world of rainbow dreams with fairy lights while outside the window of that doomed window shrieked an owl, loud and unstoppable for a fear gripped its heart, a fear of a presence around the house, of a guest who is never welcome, never waited upon but visits stealthily like a thief and leaves with something precious to its unfortunate host, a guest who comes wearing the cloak of night itself and is invisible to mortal eyes and with that knowledge of night’s this daughter the shrieking owl looked on from its own hideout, terrified as in her all-consuming gown made of the darkest hours of night she walked with steps lighter than air, swooping on others silently and her long trail that covered the entire city inched forward with a life of its own but effortlessly nonetheless as she moved forth, the bloodless, absolute whiteness of her cold skin glowing breathtakingly against the infinite blackness of the gown that shrouded her, the hazels of her eyes burned like rubies surrounded by kohl against the moonless sky as she seemed to tower over the entire house itself, much brighter than the burning eyes of the hounds that walked on either side lolling their heads from side to side with fuming saliva dripping down their merciless jaws and burning holes in the earth but silently they walked, subjugated to the wishes of their mistress who held their leash wrapped around her knuckles and together they came noiselessly crushing the earth beneath their feet. “There you are. Morbid and overbearing as ever” out the window came a man with a face more radiant than the sun itself and flushing with the warmth of blood, wrapped in a robe made of brightness of the galaxy of stars “Are you not late?” he asked. “I’m death. I never miss my moment” she smiled with an air of superiority all around her “you here to welcome me?” she asked with a smirk “I’m life. I welcome all” he replied, mocking her. “Don’t try to be like me, that would do nothing for you” she chuckled and walked past him, to the room “Shall I hold them for you?” he eyed the leash around her knuckles with faint disdain “Not everyone can carry this burden” she cocked her head back and replied before moving to the thin, pale body lying broken on the silk sheets. “Poor girl. She doesn’t deserve to die you know” he said with the slightest of uneasiness on seeing her eyes glow brighter “Nobody does” she whispered and letting go of the hounds sat beside the ailing girl, as a fresh gust of cold wind rushed in through the window “She’ll be 21 next week” “She would have been” she corrected, placing an icy cold hand on the girl’s forehead burning with fever and ran her fingers through her oiled hair, smiling to herself slowly “It’s a pity you will kill her” he spoke with growing anxiousness as his white robe flapped around him in the cold wind, touching the hem of her robe “I’m ridding her of her sickness” she replied with a high pitched whistle following it, a whistle so melodious and pure in its sound that only he could bear to listen to it Bitacora
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Vol 1.1
