Light waves of smoke lapped up against the walls, dripping their heady flavor into the room. Wisps swirled and eddied around your head as you moved through the aroma-drenched air. Warm liquid hugged your bare feet and soothed them.
"Have a seat" the old man said, as the warm firelight licked the ceiling a sweet dancing orange. He sat there, clothed in the thick smell of autumn. Smoke poured from his lips and long pipe, floating through his thick beard. His eyes were deep, black as the warm night, ablaze with stars. His voice shook the room with a cleansing warmth.
"I suppose you know why you're here", he said.
"I'm afraid I don't sir", you answer. It seemed as though fear could not exist within those walls, and you allowed the thick air to wrap you in comfort. "In fact sir, I don't even know who you are".
Warm laughter danced carefree in the night of his eyes.
"I am Death", he said, and wrapped his gentle hand around your heart and (with a warm slashing sound) ripped it from your chest. Your eyes saw no more in that room of blood, fire, and ash.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment