**This is my entry for Polar Expressions Publishing National contest for a new collection of Canadian Short Stories, this book is called; "Setting the Scene" And yes, it did get published :)**
Her silver eyes glistened with angry tears. Her pale blond hair tousled about her face. Her breathing ragged, trying as she may to keep her composure somewhat normal.
She was angry.
How dare her father defy her like that! Sitting down on the dust-covered floor, the wooden boards creaked beneath her. She ignored the sound as she contemplated on what she should do about the dilemma she had found herself in. She couldn't help but smirk to herself, however, for she knew the reason why she was there.
She understood how her dilemma had come to pass, and how it was her ultimate fault, and how she was sloppy in her work.
Well, she supposed, things could be a whole lot worse.
Jaisiah sat there for hours on end, listening to the sounds of footsteps passing by—but never a person; children's laughter echoed about the halls—but there were no children.
The ticking of the clock seemed louder at night than it did during the day. Curling into a fetal position in the corner of the room; letting the sound slowly lull her to sleep.
Her sleep was rudely interrupted by a banging noise causing Jaisiah to jump up from her place on the floor, startled. Clutching her chest she glanced up at the window of the door, her heart almost stopped at who—or what she saw.
Unnerving white eyes glared in at her, dishevelled slightly greying red hair filled the window.
Panic and confusion filled her body and mind. Who is that? And what did they want?
She jumped up, pushing herself further back to the corner of the room when the door handle slowly turned, opening. Her heart was beating rapidly now as the figure stepped in; the ripped and ragged looking robes clung to the extremely thin body, bony hands peaked out through the long ruffled sleeves. Jaisiah felt goosebumps travel up her arms, she didn't know if it was because of fear, or because it was from the sudden drop in temperature, but she knew that as it neared the air became cooler.
Jaisiah was frozen to the spot; her mouth wide open.
It stood a few feet in front of her—its finger pointing at her, then back to it. Jaisiah raised a quizzical brow. "W-who are you?"
"People call me the Keeper of Souls." Its voice was low and barely audible. "But, you can call me Death."
Her blood ran cold; pursing her lips she asked; "and what do you want?"
The pearl white eyes seemed to stare into her soul. "You should know why," A smirk played out on its disfigured lips. "My master is not happy."
Yes, she did know why; that was the reason why she was in that room—furthest away from any humans whatsoever—why she was alone; this was her punishment. Gathering up her courage she asked; "And where do you want me to go?"
"Follow me and you shall see."
Jaisiah sighed, pushing herself up onto shaky feet. Slowly, she approached the figure in black.
She knew that if she tried to run, it would just find her again and again and again.
After all, it was to be expected, she did kill her father's wife.