|Time of Dying
Author: Art7Freak PM
There is a time in your life, and really anyone's, where you know something will happen. Known as intuition, the anticipation builds up, and should you by chance wish to prevent it, you may find yourself staring at a clock. The ticking, slow and steady, calms you. Just a small bit of thought trickles into your mind. Just a small dream of freedom. Why not?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst - Words: 521 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 01-09-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3090650
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: So looking back on this, I realized this is almost a prequel to T.S. Atlas' story Birth of a Reaper. It could just be me, but... Anyway, I was bored and just read some fortune about time I found lying around in my house. My inspiration was a fortune...that's kind of weird, considering this is, you know, death. And the fortune was just 'spend your time wisely' and stuff like that. There were too many typos on it. Enjoy this story though!
Time of Dying
Every waking hour I sit there, staring at it. I'm mesmerized by the ticking of the hands, steadily moving around in a circle. And yet, I dread the coming time, knowing that as each second passes my freedom ebbs away. I crave that small sliver of freedom, clinging to it like a parasite. Soon, it will be taken from me, trodden on and killed. I cannot bring myself to part with it, so I stare at the clock and ache for what is slowly disappearing from my grasp.
It's over; I must leave. In one hour, sixteen minutes, and forty two seconds, I will go and never look back. My face contorted into one of longing, my eyes widening and my lips curving downwards into a frown. With a quiet whine like a whimpering puppy, I stood up from my heavily cushioned seat. I threw one last look at the clock before turning around and gingerly picking up my sword and strapping it to my hip. My slow, steady steps echoed like the ticking of the clock. Opening the creaking door of the closet, I draped a dark black cloak over my shoulders and pulled the hood up over my eyes.
I brought a hand to grip the doorknob, taking a deep, calming breath before opening the door. And just like that, my fate was sealed. I snuck out, prepared to die. A death wish, if you will. And it will be granted.
An eye for and eye, a life for a life. I had shed blood for a cause I did not believe in. The twisted words caught me unawares and I fell for the promises of fame and glory. I came to kill, prepared to die, and received the gift of both. I can no longer justify the bloodshed in my leader's name. Until I laid on the floor, dying, I still believed. Yet, this horror I discovered has changed me; allowed me to see clearer. I was a fool, and now I lay here with nothing but the truth and my tainted sword. A nightmare living like a dream. Sickening.
So I will die, my heart stopping like a clock refusing to tick. Stripped of my dignity and pride, I laid there in shame. It was my fate. It was my time of dying. And die I shall.
A/N: Short? Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. But I'm good with short stories. I can write the first chapter/prologue really well but then...I don't know, my writing style seems to change.