Colors are more than adjectives. They are things that dance and spin. They are the things that are always there when I collect a human soul. They are there every time. They are what keep me going. They are my incentive to smile at those fallen souls as they greet me. And so I keep going.
***An Unanswerable Inquisition***
Why?
That man, he was pale green. He had once been vivid and full of life before his wife had died. Now he was pale and a mere cardboard cutout of his past self. There he was, his golden eyes closed, chalk white with an accepting smile on his face. He was ready to greet me. I am not kind, but I scooped up his blazing soul and held it in my arms as I retreated from his wife's grave. Her soul had been pale yellow. Yes, he was ready to return to her.
***A SMALL IMAGE***
He was the very image of sadness,
His years beyond that of a human were
Crumbling and dwindling. She found him
Dead the next morning, with a grin of defeat.
And then there were the two girls. They were bound, I knew. She knew she had done the right thing. The girl was bloodied and filled with regret, but as she held her friend in her arms, she knew that she had not died in vain. They were in the remains of the labyrinth. The sound of violins faded. The explosion had worked. The others would survive. They greeted me with open palms. One soul was just as red as her hair. Bright, fiery, the kind that never died. The other was happy, explosive and deep blue. Yes, at one point they had both lost control. They died thinking of God and music.
***A STRANGE QUESTION***
Did the boy with the violin know?
Of course, there was the young man. He had his doubts, yes. But he died for the world. They could handle it. His extravagant white clothes were saturated with blood. The wish had been passed on. His power was dead. He just hoped his sister would forgive him. Her newly opened blue eyes stared at his limp form. She didn't want to live in this world alone. The prisoners watched with broken eyes, and the masked murderer stood like a statue, tears hidden under his helm. The dying man's soul was golden, tainted black by his sins. Yes, I would take him to his release. The masked man would carry on.
***A REASSURANCE***
I forgave him.
And I could never forget the young lady. She smiled, blood running down her forehead. She hoped Paradise would open its gates for her. When she left, would he come with her? If only she still had her collar…. In any case, she would be with him. She wanted to die in his arms. I smiled at her caramel soul. She was so open. So exposed and happy. I would send her to Paradise. She deserved it.
***A Small Fact***
She was ready to die.
