I Love to Write Fiction
It was Halloween and he was just sitting on the bench watching the costumed people passing by on the street. Children dashing by on the search for more candy, and teens walking as if so cool. Moms and dads and a few grandparents tried to restrain their charges as they hurried down the street.
He felt a cool breeze waft over him and felt another sit down on the bench. He turned and saw the hooded figure carrying a scythe and exclaimed, "What a great costume, friend."
He asked the hooded figure why he chose that costume for this night? Without turn its head the figure replied that it just seem so right this evening. The man noticed the lack of emotion in the words that were uttered. The words he heard were almost empty and hollow in their sound.
A twinge of fear passed through his mind, but then he shook it off. His logical mind provided the answer that it was but Halloween and people were trying to be as spooky as possible. "What possessed you to become the grim reaper, that agent of death," he asked?
A drifting cloud on high, obscured the moon as the figure replied. "There is no reaper, death is but a process and angels or demons come to guide the soul in crossing over that great boundary."
"So are you an angel come to guide me to heaven," he said with a smirk?
The figure turned its head toward him and terror filled his soul as he saw a fiery visage looking at him with a joyous malevolence. An ice cold hand fell on his and yanked him to his feet. He looked down at the bench and saw himself look as if asleep. He felt a tug on his arm and then he saw the doorway before him, shimmering with heat from the fires beyond. He screamed and something deep inside him knew that an eternity of screams awaited him.
He felt a cool breeze waft over him and felt another sit down on the bench. He turned and saw the hooded figure carrying a scythe and exclaimed, "What a great costume, friend."
He asked the hooded figure why he chose that costume for this night? Without turn its head the figure replied that it just seem so right this evening. The man noticed the lack of emotion in the words that were uttered. The words he heard were almost empty and hollow in their sound.
A twinge of fear passed through his mind, but then he shook it off. His logical mind provided the answer that it was but Halloween and people were trying to be as spooky as possible. "What possessed you to become the grim reaper, that agent of death," he asked?
A drifting cloud on high, obscured the moon as the figure replied. "There is no reaper, death is but a process and angels or demons come to guide the soul in crossing over that great boundary."
"So are you an angel come to guide me to heaven," he said with a smirk?
The figure turned its head toward him and terror filled his soul as he saw a fiery visage looking at him with a joyous malevolence. An ice cold hand fell on his and yanked him to his feet. He looked down at the bench and saw himself look as if asleep. He felt a tug on his arm and then he saw the doorway before him, shimmering with heat from the fires beyond. He screamed and something deep inside him knew that an eternity of screams awaited him.
61-69, M
