Fate of the Death-bringer

Melancholy.

My soul seems draped in dismal gloom. A long hiss of air escapes my lungs, my eyes gliding to the night sky.

It is hollow; just as my heart. No twinkling stars gleam in the vast expanse of black; no moon shines to light my path. Instead I wander, allowing the darkness to envelope me.

I inhale the damp scent of decay. All around me life fades; the gradual pouring-out of essence which is entwined with my spirit. Each step I take is one that reveals yet another end. I am linked to death; there is no escape save when all has perished.

From the dawn of time, I have roamed this world. As each day passes, the earth beneath my feet " and everything above and below it " wanes in vitality.

More times than can be counted, I have wished for my own end to find me. And yet I remain.

The cries of the dying reach mine ears as endless, haunting shrieks. What agony, oh, what torment; to hear every life as it leaves this wretched world. The perpetual moaning continues in mine ears, though even it is weakened.

Is my time, at last, drawing near? Has this dying world reached its end?

But, alas, there is some life yet in this place; in me.

As I wade through the dark curtain of night, an abrupt grip ensnares my arm. Never before have I felt the touch of a living being; only the earth beneath my feet; all life withering beneath each attempted caress.

A soft voice breaks through the wailing, a surprising clarity in its tone.

“Arise!”

I turn toward the voice, toward the hand which has captured me. Through the black haze, a ghostly figure appears.

Wild eyes stare back at me, savage features give me pause. What is this creature that it should touch me and yet exist?

“Arise,” it says again.

How can one rise when one neither sleeps nor lies down? I have walked for nigh an eternity. How, then, can I raise myself from a prostrate position?

“It is nearly too late. Rise from your lowly state, O, Death-bringer!”

Such peculiar words, these. I did not choose this curse, surely. Death clung to me in days long past, refusing to obey any efforts on my part to dispose of its hateful touch.

“Quickly,” the voice urges.

New hands cling to me, cold and lifeless. I feel greedy fists clutch at my body.

Ah! Surely this must be the end of all things.

Searing pain burns through me, as unseen hands pull me down. So this is how physical affliction feels? How strange that now, as my bedeviled body begins to perish, I should finally feel alive.

My lungs seem incapable of taking in air; I struggle for the smallest fragment of it. My task is, at long last, complete. I have drained this world of its life force, thereby bringing about my own destruction.

I look about, but there is nothing to see. The spectral being has released me and is nowhere in sight.

But what’s this? Shrouded in ghastly glow, the decayed remains of trees and foliage appear before me. Their ghoulish voices call out; beckoning me to join them in their fate.

And now the numberless beasts of this world add to the chant; howling, baying, screeching, and crowing their distaste for what my hands have done.

Oh, that I could have been anything but what I am; anything but the Death-bringer!

“Vile, contemptible thing,” the voices hiss. “Come, accompany us in the dark. You have much punishment to receive.”

Something stirs within me; a sensation I have never felt. This peculiar response must be that called “fear.”

I seem to be drowning; the earth swallowing my body. And still the clawing hands rip at my flesh and pull my limbs.

There is comfort, at least, in knowing that my suffering shall soon pass. I close my eyes, but still I see the lives I’ve drained. Is there no rest for me?

A flash of light spreads across my vision. It is a garish light; no warmth in it, nor any sense of hope. The light brings with it a foreboding.

The wild-eyed, unearthly creature appears before me, pointing a ragged claw at me.

“You have fallen again, Death-bringer.”

Rapid images fill my mind; visions of a dozen other worlds. Each one thrived in life and bounty. One by one, I was placed in each world. One by one, the “Death-bringer” brought an end to all life.

So this is my true legacy; I am the pillager of worlds, annihilator of the living. I move from one world to the next, extinguishing all manner of entities.

I am overcome; morose. I sigh in resignation of my cursed fate.

The visions and light disappear, and the hands drag me further down. The wailing shouts and howling cries come to a crescendo, as the final darkness consumes me.

I, the cursed one, the Death-bringer, shall receive my just reward.

A sigh escapes me, once more, before my villainous body is rent by the cadaverous grasps of my former victims.

Reviews

[J.M.Fields]

This is lovely story well written and deep. In all honesty I must read this a few more times to truly get this, but that's how it should be I think. I loved it.

[Elina]

Thank you for your kind review!

[M. Black]

I couldn't stop reading this. a great story. I love your use of descriptive language :)

[Elina]

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[Eddie Davis]

An interesting look at death personified and the reader cannot help but feel some sympathy for his hopeless state. To be created purposely to bring death and decay into worlds would be a nightmare existence. You gave us a brief glimpse into his horrid existence.

The use of 'mine' for 'my' is certainly allowed in more classical English, but it seems a bit awkward with the smooth flow of the narrative.

[Elina]

Thank you, Eddie. Yes, this was a slightly different piece than what I normally write, but for some reason I was in the mood to write something a little dreary. Ha!
Thank you, too, for the tips on "mine." I wasn't too sure if I wanted to keep them that way, but I'm thinking I will change them.