The man with the flowing silver hair rushed through the woods as he tried to escape the pursuing humans. He couldn't be seen, the very fabric of time would be destroyed if he was seen. Luckily, he had managed to be only noticed from a soft sound. Unfortunately, the wrong human had heard him.

He stopped briefly, to catch his breath and then continued.

The portal must be around here somewhere, he thought to himself. His head swung from side to side as he searched for it.

A soft purple glow caught his eye and he went after it. The light was shrinking rapidly, and was about to disappear completely. With a leap that is considered impossible to any human, the man jumped through and vanished.

Humans are most interesting. He thought as he reappeared in his own time and world. I must observe them from a safer distance if I am to continue my research. A large grin spread across his scarred face, and he went about his daily business. It was very important business. After all, he was an undertaker.


I zipped my jacket up as much as possible and stepped out into the chilly morning air. The instant that the air hit me, I sneezed. Cold air was my weakness. I walked down the front porch steps and headed straight for the woods.

The forest was my safe haven; I went there whenever I needed to get away from everyday life. Too much was going on inside right now, so I had decided to go on a walk. As I walked I took a look around at my surroundings.

Nothing was really new – there were dense trees blocking out the sun. Anybody could hide here safely. The ground had a soft green moss growing atop the brown dead grass. The area was overgrown with blackberries and vines. I liked to call this place my real home, because I felt at ease here.

As I walked deeper into the woods I caught my finger on a thorn and let it pierce my skin. It hurt, but the pain was a good kind of pain. Something that only crazies would feel. I suppose that I was crazy, because I was different from the rest of my family. And they shunned me for being that way.

My entire family had beautiful blond hair and wondrous blue eyes. Their personalities were all too similar. I, on the other hand, had been born with raven black hair – it was still that way – and light grey eyes. I was considered the natural born rebel of the family.

That was why I didn't let the pain of a simple thorn hurt me. I wasn't emo, I just wasn't normal.

As I came into a clearing, I stopped. I had some feeling of uneasiness. I tried to ignore it, but it was too hard. And, being to opposite of what my family wanted me to be, I came to the center of the clearing. In the direct path of anything dangerous. A crow began to caw, and I looked up.

The crow was sitting on an old stump not even a hundred yards in front of me.

"Good morning," I smiled. The crow tilted its head to the side, and stared unblinkingly at me. "Don't look at me like that unless you have something to say to me." I added.

The crow said nothing, but turned his head away. Then, the crow cawed again and took to the air. It flew around in circles a few times and the swooped down straight for my face. I screamed and ducked down, but the crow never touched me. When I stood upright again, the crow was up in a tree. Once again it was looking at me.

Something in the back of my mind told me that I was crazy for taking this a sign like I did. "You want me to follow you?" I asked the crow. It said nothing, but it did fly away. And, after staring at its disappearing figure for a moment. I walked in the general direction that it had flown off in. The crow was long gone by now, but I still walked.

After a few moments, I came to another clearing – this one was completely deserted of any sort of previous life. But in the very middle of the clearing, there were black burn marks. Cautiously, I approached the marks and began to inspect them with great prejudice. I deemed them harmless, and was turning to leave when my eye caught a flash of pink. I looked down, and picked up the object.

It was more or less a pen. But it looked like a bookmark. But most definitely, it was a pen, it had a ballpoint tip, and, after testing it on my arm, didn't work. I was going to throw it away, but something on the inside told me not to. Instead I dashed right back home and into my room without saying a word. I continued to inspect it. I knew, being a fan of writing, that sometimes pens only worked on paper. So I grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled on it with the pen.

I was rewarded with a nice flow of blood-red ink.

I smiled. I loved the colour red, and I wanted to write a story using this pen. So a grabbed a nearby notebook and began to write a story. I wanted this one to be special, so I made it a fanfiction regarding crow demons and Gods of Death. I thought it was a nice idea.

But I had no idea how much trouble I had gotten myself into.


Hope you liked this first chapter, i dont know why i wrote this honestly, i just thought about writing something like this, and... here it is.