|Death and Kill: The Two Demons Who Ruined Me
Author: M. T. Christen PM
There are several times when I look back at my life and wonder what had happened. I feel as though something inside me died one night, and I've awakened to feel light and full of sorrow, almost ghostly.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Horror/Mystery - Words: 1,344 - Published: 07-22-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2935571
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Death and Kill: The Two Demons Who Ruined Me
There are several times when I look back at my life and wonder what had happened. I feel as though something inside me died one night, and I've awakened to feel light and full of sorrow.
I cannot sleep at night because I am busy dwelling on only the mistakes I had made in the past. I cannot bring myself to start again. I was not ready to be condemned to this. I was so busy feeling sorry for myself that I never noticed the blinding white light in the distance, always a threshold for a new life, always begging me to step through it.
I only began to realize what had happened to me when I could no longer walk away from my despair. People I loved began to fade. They were sad for a time, always keeping their distance from me; whether that be my physical presence, or their speech. I wondered what I had done wrong.
I tried to speak with my family and friends, but words stuck in my throat. All I could do was stand and watch. I would watch my daughter talk on the phone, the whole time she pretended not to see me in the doorway. I watched my wife cut the vegetables and ready dinner for only three plates, rather than four. My son only stared at the T.V., never seeing me in front of it, begging him to high five his old man.
I still didn't know why my family shunned me. I didn't understand their coded messages when they spoke of "a terrible accident". I would linger into my bedroom at night and sit with my wife as she cried about something. About me. She acted as though I were gone on a long business trip and would never come back. Often she held my picture to her chest.
It wasn't long afterwards when my wife told our children we would be moving into a new house. I was shocked that she made such a decision on her own, because I was always part of it.
My vague sense of logic began to unfold from the confines of my depression as I watched my family pack the last box and move away. I tried to follow, but something kept me to the house.
As they had lost me, I had lost them.
The house was empty for a period of time, though I could not say how long. Time seemed irrelevant to me.
A new family of five moved in against my will. I thought people would be respectful to my living space and not intrude just because it was empty.
It was then that I realized I was not human. All sense of happiness—if there was any left—was completely gone. I had been living, but not through existence. My energy was no longer confined to a body. My soul could no longer communicate with the living. I had died, and I am now known as a ghost.
I never realized that it was possible to meet Death and live like this afterwards. To be a ghost was damnation in of itself. I watched as family upon family occupied my house. I watched the beautiful wrap-around porch sag and warp from the many winters it had endured. I wondered how many winters I had endured.
Years must have passed before I found someone who could help me. In fact, it was because of the dying mother in my very own home. The night she began to die, my entity being detected a whole new energy that was not unlike my own. I saw it take the shape as a wisp of air, though I didn't know what it was before.
I knew that it was miserable. Probably more dull and devastated than I. I knew that despite my inability to contact the living all around me, I might be able to talk with this new energy.
It barely acknowledged me when it passed through my kitchen and into the bedroom. The misty energy gathered around the sickly mother as if it hesitated to bring her life to an end. I knew that was its purpose, though I did not know how I knew.
I watched as the mist disappeared into the woman's body and stayed until the mother lost her last breath. From a white opening in the air, a little girl wearing a gothic taffeta dress emerged. Her skin was a sickly grey, her hair was as black as a raven. Her eyes were red. From behind the girl, a man with shining yellow hair and eye sockets of pure white light emerged through the portal. The man was tall, his fingers weren't fingers, rather little weapons to each finger. Knives, guns, poisons, darts, bats… The oddest thing was that the man's white cape and white suit was made of lace, his body beneath not even a body, though it took the shape as one.
As a dead man, I had never seen anything like this, though I have seen a lot. The two characters surrounded the dead mother with finality and excitement. The wisp of energy from before became a man, not unlike myself. He looked more human and alive, but he had those same hollow eyes as I had and the miserable guilt as I felt when I realized I died.
He looked at me, actually seeing me, when no one else did.
Take my place… The whisper overcame my chilling wish to run away.
I stepped forward and turned to look at the two demons. The girl cradled the mother's head in her small arms. She whispered lullabies to the dead mother. Slowly, her rosy pink lips formed into a black hole, sucking away the lost soul. Why hadn't that happened to me? Was that they this entity wanted me?
The man was working on the body next, an empty vial in his hands. He coaxed the green sickness out of her body and capped it into the vial. There, he stored it in his lacy white cape.
Death and Kill, two brothers condemned to rid this world of unnecessary life. The entity at my side waved at Death and Kill as they retreated towards the portal from which they came. I am Nothing, condemned to keep balance between Kill and Death's raging powers and cage them away until the next significant death. They would destroy the world if they were untamed. I choose the next victims, not Death or Kill.
Why would I replace this entity then, I thought.
Because you would roam anywhere, be anything. You live for eternity basking in all the world has to offer. You would be amazing. You only have to perform the job when it is necessary, when you feel as though someone has done wrong and has to die.
The offer was so enticing that I had forgotten to consider main points that may have saved me from complete and utter damnation. I took the deal, forgetting to wonder why Nothing would give up his lovely life and give me his name.
I became Nothing that day, and I had never expected to live up to his name. I killed, and every time I murdered a poor, innocent soul that made a mistake, I felt guilt. It was the same guilt that the poor entity who had found me had had. Instead, the entity lived in sorrow, forever haunting my old home until it found the light. I wish I could have found the light.
I learned that only special children could see me, and that I was often mistaken as Death himself. I earned nicknames like "The Grim Reaper". I became a vampire, sucking away life from this planet with every step I took. I only survived with my sanity still intact because one piece of knowledge kept me going.
With every death came a new life.