Summon the Reaper

Title: Summon the Reaper

Author: Silver Ink

Writing: Descriptive/ Random/Fanwriting

Word Count: 484

Wind lashed violently around me. The sky clouded up, creating a murky effect on the fog covered water at my feet. Ice cold fingers touched my shoulder. My hands clenched the hourglass in my hands tighter, lightly feeling, somewhere within my senses, that the last few grains of sand were slipping through.

The last grain dropped with a ring of cold and the weather ceased abruptly; the last word of my prestidigitation echoed silently and lost itself in the cessation of time.

Momentarily, I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to sink into that of the creature behind me. When I reopened them, my brain was filled with newfound information, my body infused with newfound power. Drawing in a wisp of the frozen air around me, I glanced at my new appearance.

Half my body was now laced with the bonelike signs  of the killer newly born in me. My skin, already light,  was bleached by pale gray; my hair, originally umber, was darkened to  a deathly glaze of night, my dress, once a fading white, was torn at the edges with a piercing black. The creature with the thin hand that had touched my shoulder was now mine to command; its powers mine to control; its knowledge mine to contrive with.

“Emuser eht Emit” I hissed. The voice was not mine, yet it carried a touch of my aura. Not enough to identify me, but enough to give the sound words. Words that came backwards yet fluently. It reflected no emotion yet implied of all the evils in Pandora’s box.

Nevertheless, time resumed. The winds resumed their howl, the waves their barrage, the world its consciousness. With the grace of a predator and the reticence of a prey, I stepped from my pedestal on the rock broken off the mainland and onto the rushing water. I glided over the water, not needing the action of walking, to  the mainland, where my drizzle of elements had not gone unnoticed. A small crowd had already gathered.

“Olleh,” I greeted, polite as ever.  In mock celebration, I raised my hand and conjured a glimmering golden goblet. Despite the complexity of the task, it charged nothing of my energy; the action would have occurred unnoticed had my newly- poignant senses not detected them with ambivalent nonchalance. “Sreehc,” with the same eerie language rolling naturally off my tongue.

For a moment, I thought no one would join my toast, but then I saw a little fledgling of a girl raise her tiny hand, copying my movement. A smirk crept on my ashen face. So this would be the first victim. Keeping the jeweled goblet in hand, I waved my bony fingers at the little girl, causing a gust to carry her lightly towards me. Her white rags dipped into my red drink, and her long, smooth, white pigtails tasted my humble delicacy. 

To my surprise, she smiled. 


Artist's Note: The story was a spontaneous piece inspired by Ironshod (Anne Stokes) on deviantART; said artwork can be found on the attached link. Or here: Summon the Reaper by Ironshod 
I posted this today in case Lewis couldn't post something this first week...don't expect something like this to happen anytime soon..XP Either way, critique, comment, enjoy!


~Silver Ink