Dead Man Walking's blog: "The Reaper"

 I have come to collect

Being here on vacation to another land, I wanted to learn about the history of this place. So I went to the library in the evening when all else had closed. The librarian, an elderly lady, greeted me warmly. We engaged in conversation once she found out I was not from this country. As I asked for some reading material, she pointed me in the correct direction. She lead the way to the section that contained the reading material I had enquired about. Once we had gotten there, she quickly retrieved an old, thick book covered in dust. She hide it beneath her shawl as she whispered “I will be at the desk if you need anything”. and quickly left. I noticed she did not return to the desk, but carried the heavy old book to the back, and went into a room. The room had no signs on the door and when she opened it to go in, I noticed only a very dim, flickering light coming from within. I pulled several books from the shelf and found a table nearby to look through them. I pulled out a small notepad and pen I carried with me when I traveled.

I was so into the book, I did not notice the time had slipped by me. Only the dimming of the lights awaken me to the world which surrounded me. As I rose to replace the books, the old woman appeared out of no where, and told me it was closing time and I should hurry home. The old woman now seemed cold when she spoke and much older. She nervously hurried me out the door. Once I had stepped through the door, she slammed it and I could hear the locks clicking one by one as her old frail hands fumbled with the last one.

The night was clear, warm, full moon shining as bright as the sun. The streets were free of all motion, so unlike the day where people are bustling to n fro. These once crowded and noisy streets were as still as the night. As I left the library and started walking towards home, all that could be heard now was the footsteps I took on the cobble stoned streets.

I continued walking as I thought of how the old woman changed as the night grew late. How the warm, friendly librarian , without notice, turned into a bitter old woman with a cold tongue and piercing eyes. As I walked, I noticed all of the windows to the homes and business’s had boards nailed over them. I looked at the sky and noticed no sign of bad weather forthcoming. I continued on my way to the little cottage I rented. As I walked on, I noticed some of the windows that were boarded up, had strange symbols painted on them. Some were in red, others painted in black.

As the moments slipped by on my walk home, the air became chilly and stale. A putrid aroma lingered in my nostrils and soon filled my lungs. The smell was so strong, I could taste it upon my lips. The taste was far worse than the smell. I became nausea as I walked on. I crossed the road, in hopes of avoiding the smell. But the smell only grew more intensive.

I heard footsteps behind me and as I turned to see who else was out at this hour, no one was there and the footsteps fell silent. Only the shadows was to be found. I continued on towards the cottage, and as I walked, the footsteps followed. Every time I looked, the footsteps stopped, and no one was to be seen. I darted into an alley way, and continued walking little faster than before. Once I reached the end of the alley, I crossed the street. Keeping vigilant on the surroundings. Still, no one was to be found on the street, or even the slightest glimpse of life in this small town.

As I began to walk, I convinced myself it was only the old wives tales that I had read that began to get the best of me, and I had been imagining things.

As I could see the small narrow alley that lead to my cottage, I felt easier knowing I had reached home. The alley had four small lights lighting the way. As I entered the alley, the first of the lights on the far end flickered and went dark. I listened… nothing could be heard. I continued walking, and as I took another step, the second light went dark. With only two small lights still dimly shinning, the alley had become rather dark. I took another step and felt a heaviness in my chest. And then the putrid smell came stronger than earlier. Overpowering me, I became light headed. I staggered onwards in the alley. Soon I found myself doubled over in pain, dry heaving, eyes became all teary. My thoughts became confused. I found the strength to raise my head. Not more than twenty feet away, I saw a silhouette of a person standing there. I tried to speak, but it was as if my tongue had become numb, no words flowed. I tried desperately to call for help.

I saw the silhouette slowly walking towards me. Its motion was almost fluid like. I then heard a whisper, calling my name. there were other sounds, but it sounded like some foreign language I had never heard of before, almost chant like.

When I raised my head the second time, the figure was standing directly in front of me. All I could see was two glowing red eyes set deep into its head. The figure removed something from under its long flowing cloak, which I could now see. It looked as if it was the same book the old librarian had hid from me. The figure raised his arm to the sky and began talking in the low whisper. My chest tightened as it spoke. My head swimming faster, my breath began to slow, and it was harder to breath.

The figure closed the book, and beneath the long sleeve of its cape, it stretched out its bony hand, reaching for me. Then I heard it spoke, harsh, raspy voice as it was. It spoke to me, but it seemed I couldn’t understand the words. As I strained to understand the words it spoke, I started to slowly understand, although the words seemed fuzzy to my ears. After a short time i began to hear the words a little more clearer. The person before me was now speaking about my life, secrets no one could possible know in this land. The person was like a recording, telling of all the good and bad deeds in my life in order of occurrence. I could not understand why or how this person knew so much of me and telling me these things. Some of which was embarrassing, making me ashamed. When the person stopped speaking of these things of my life, I looked up at him with a tear in my eye. I knew what this person wanted, even though I said I was ready to give what was needed, I felt like it was too soon. I tried to speak, but my lips were sealed. I tried to move my arms in protest, but they were as if weighed a ton apiece and could not be budged. Running was no option either, my legs were frozen in place. The red glowing eyes were even brighter now.

He that stood before me, removed its hood. Opening its mouth, a yellowish, green ghostly glow came forth. I felt myself go weaker. Blackness enclosed me. Then all of a sudden, words filled my mind like someone shouting in my ear. The words were simple, voice was rough and raspy…

“Time to dance with the reaper, I have come to collect”