Ghost Story by C. M.

Nobody really knows who he is or what he looks like. Stories and myths give some hints, but no one can be certain. Anybody who had ever seen him just evaporated into thin air, because when he looks at you with those beady black eyes, he consumes your soul - you die. It feels like your heart is a burning furnace and magma gushes through your veins. Your eyes pop out of their sockets, your skin melts and every bone in your body turns to dust. And there is nothing you can do. I remember the day he looked at me, the day I died.


It was a cold dark night, the sky was a musky grey colour and the air was cool and crisp. I didn't like being alone in the forest at night, but it was the quickest route to return home after my friend’s Halloween party. I heard noises coming from the treetops so I walked a bit faster. Then a cloud of silence took over, all I could hear were my quick footsteps on the dusty forest floor. I decided to run, I was scared. Suddenly, the sky looked as though it was crumbling, the trees started bending in loops and rats scattered all around me. A poisonous taste filled the atmosphere and a loud screeching forced me to the ground. Everything turned white. The whole world stopped moving. I lifted my arm to shield my eyes from the bright light, and right in front of me stood the dark silhouette of the tall slender man holding a sinister scythe.


I tried to resist but the big black blobs resting upon his blank face drew me in. I was petrified. His ghostly hand slowly crept towards me, stretching and warping until he reached into my mouth. He pushed his cold grey fist down my throat and viciously ripped out my heart. The pain was excruciating. My body felt like it was on fire, and my eyes were trying to escape on their own accord. Still beating although it was outside my body, the man caressed my heart, and my soul gently vaporized into his mouth. It was then when I realized that I was looking at my own disintegrated body, but from a distance. I was no longer myself; I was trapped inside this monster. I became this cold-blooded killer - I became death.



In the spur of the moment I had an idea. What if death was no more? What if the entire population had eternal life? I couldn't be this dark angel, carrying out the underworld’s dirty work. Then, without thinking straight I took his scythe and trusted it into where his heart should be. It was futile. There was no blood – there was no heart. I was trapped within this atrocity and the only way for my soul to escape was if I kill someone else. What happened next was a mystery. The end.