And here I stand, among the dead, waiting for Death to show. He will come to collect his own. The air around grows cold, the life it seems to leave. An unnatural frost forms around my feet as the lifeless begin to stir. A figure, hidden by a constant shadow that covers his cloaked body, slowly approaches. I, fearful to move, stand ever watchful, stuck inside this horror dream. The figure moves smooth and silent, passing by the scattered bodies of war. A feel of sad excitement comes over me, as though Death is hiding a grim smile.
My eyes scan as the lifeless begin to make their way to the path that Death has shown them. They move shedding their armour and weapons, knowing they will no longer be in need of them. Laying them down beside the shell of there former selves, they slowly move into the forest and beyond. Not a single one pauses to look back. Not a single one hesitant to move forward.
And here I stand, in the presence of death. The sad beauty that is before me, the figure cloaked in shadow, pausing for one last look. A longing no man could ever know, for it is man that hinders death from peace. Death turns to me and with a rattle in his voice he asks, “Will you join?”
The words can not find my tongue. Am I among the dead? No, I stayed to face death, and here we stand. The strength in me I fight to find. Every breath flows through me like a fierce winter storm as I stair deep into the shadow before me. “No.”
Death gives no expression of interest or despise. Its attention only given to the dead, and I am not one of them. Death moves slowly away, toward the path the dead took. “Why do you collect the dead?” I hear my voice say.
A pause before the forest, Death turns its cloaked head, not to me but to the stars. A feeling comes over me, one of sadness and longing. I now know. Death once roamed the world in peace and he waits for the day he can again. He takes joy collecting the dead and showing them the path to what lay beyond. For when we all die, he will be at peace.
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