I welcome your hatred and I strengthen on your
fears. For I have existed for centuries in a tomb on pain, grief and tears.
There is no set date of my birth and I have
no remembrance of a mother. My creation came when man and living things were
constructed. There is no form or body I take, I do not know if I resemble a
gender, I have not seen my reflection in a mirror to know of any flesh.
In this existence I was given one task, to
be the presence of human demise, to crush what is left of their infected and
aging souls, to watch the life drain out of their eyes. I take pleasure in
ending their lives; enjoy eating the pain and cry’s.
In the minutes they have left, after they
have said goodbye. I reach into their chest and grasp their soul, feel its
weightless wonder and behold its milky cloudy complexion. Each human soul
smells differently, some fill the air with roses and some with pine, but after
that I squeeze and crush them and they are now mine. But they do not crack or
splinter into thin pieces, they change to black misty presences, where they are
kept and pocketed, down into the velvet cage with the others. I think her name
was Lily, but I cannot truly say, for after many years they all have the same
resemblance. That pink, soft and squishy flesh the same blue or brown eyes. Of
course what does it matter to me if she was an adult or child?
I appeared in a rather full room; one with
men, women and children huddled around a bed. I have to weave and walk through
many to get to the dying man in the center. He spluttered and jerked up blood
from his lungs in to a clean tissue. I wouldn’t have to wait very long; he had minutes
left on his clock. I sat in the chair next to the bed, and looked on the faces
of his family, their grave and despairing faces, water ebbing from each socket
drenching their cheeks. I looked to the woman nearest too me, she wasn’t crying
or groaning into anyone’s shoulder. She held the wrinkled and purpled old mans
hand, and stroked it carefully.
“You can leave now John. There will be no
more pain, you are free my sweetheart.” She said
His time was up.
I hand went through her body into his chest;
the body exhaled as I moved past his lungs and heart, and finally felt his
soul. Something different happened, I my soul was flooded with a collage of
images. The first at this man’s birth, all wet and covered in blood, crying to
be loved. Next staring at a teenager slowly moving towards the face of a girl,
hoping to have that first kiss. The final image was a screen shot of the
present.
I started into the whirling soul. The voice
of the name rippled along the silence.
“What do you see?” he asked
“You can see me?” I hissed
“Indeed I do.”
“What do I look like?”
“Why, you look like death?” he said
Silence.
“I’m in so much pain. Could you get this
over with, I think I’ve waited long enough.”
All that came from my lips was a
high-pitched scream. My chest seared with hot blinding pain, like thousands of
boiling needles being plunged into my skin. The heat began to move along my
arms and legs, weakening me and making my body collapse and double over. Then
it all went still, and I felt warm. I panicked as a low thud thud, thud thud sounded inside me.
The old man stared at me curiously.
“Please.” was all he said
I quickly crushed his soul, and retreated
back into my home of greyness and nothing.
The same images flooded in my mind again,
and my form seemed to explode with sounds, voices, and emotions. Tears rolled
down my face, and laughter erupted from my mouth, and neither one I could cease
and control. Then I was shivering with terror and fear. What is happening to
me? I seemed to be experiencing everything and anything.
A human has made death feel, a human has made
me tremble. I huffed a laugh. what powerful creatures these human beings truly
are. They have bestowed passion, humanity and love on a heart that I have never
heard beat.
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