Lives of the innocent.

Hayleylucy

He is lurking. Sweeping through corridors in an unknown haste. He cannot be avoided neither can he be touched. There is a certain air about him, like uncharted waters or the missing melody from a song. Most are swallowed into his darkness, by curiosity, enquiring upon who he his and what he does. Some may recognize him, he has come before, taking children, adults alike.

The unknown figure, dressed in robes of majestic violet, glides across the corridor, effortlessly, a fatal grin upon his face. He has an aim, he has a purpose. He does not slaughter you, he takes your life away. He will be reaching his aim very soon, he sees the door in which the victim of death lies, and holds out is hand in a command. There is a door, a black door marked with an X. This door swings open at his silent command.

It is a circular room in which he enters, plunged into darkness at his presence. Heads turn and screams are masked by an effortless wave of his hand. For he is death. Invisible but nevertheless, there. Only one will die tonight he thinks to himself, smiling malevolently. The one that will die is an old man, crinkled with time, he is at his deathbed surrounded with sorrowing gatherers, peacefully mourning. Death draws closer, holding out his hand in a false sense of security. Stealing his last breath. The man falters and finally, closing his eyes for the last time, Death takes him.

Death has conquered, consuming all in the end. Taking lives of the innocent and taking minds of the unexpected. Death is coming, be aware, but be ready.