The darkness beckons,
despair is lurking,
slowly it descends like a billowing cloak.
It wraps its dark, ragged edges
round the world-weary warrior
icy hands clasp tightly about the warrior's throat,
and the stench of rotten flesh
chills him to the bone.
His grey eyes widen at the horrific sight that befalls him,
the carrion have landed
death walks amongst us once more.
The long skeletal fingers clutch at an ivory hourglass
and a fearful looking scythe.
A cackle escapes the bony jaws,
as the ivory hourglass empties once more...
and with the swoosh of carrion wing and icy cold wind
the deadly scythe cuts its gruesome path
through the cold night air.
Another has fallen;
Another warrior lost to the scythe
No one can survive when death can decide.