Chapter One:
The young girl addresses her mother's ghost, humming the tune that she once heard as a lullaby. The grassy hill silently weep under her feet. The eyes of the dead shly watch her from behind their graves. The cemetery becomes her place of abode and the girl decides this action is fitting for her tired heart. Yet her heart was once restless, beating against the sands of time and devouring the light of the golden moon and gliding with the wings of her angels. And ever so abruptly and early tragedy took her as his wife. The ends of her mouth desperately attempt to curve upward:
"I've discovered these lovely daisies at the florists' earlier, mama. I hope you like them."
She places the wilted plants before the grave.
"Orchids were not on sale. Forgive me."
The drop of her hidden ocean escapes from her eye and descends upon the desert of her cheek.
The chirp of a crow fills her ears in aggressive viscosity.
"I'm afraid I won't be visiting next week, mama. They say I have an important job to do for them. Sadly the adventures of Jules Verne must wait."
The hues of apricot splash the field above as the sun sets for its slumber. The girl closes her eyes in quiet fear, and whispers:
"I know I must stay strong. I must stay strong. Do you remember that tale of that female warrior? Joan of Arc? I try to carry her bravery everyday, but now I am not certain if I can continue living like this."
The chirp of a crow strikes again.
"Nonetheless, I have no choice. They're waiting for me."
A flash of her memory's vision fills her heart and she sees the night of her decided fate.
Soon-to-be carrion rested in the middle of the cobblestone road and was scrutinized under the harsh light of a streetlamp. Rowdy men fill their glasses in the pub beside her, charmed in the heavy yellow lights of beer and excited by the loose smiles of young prostitutes. The girl, swimming in blood, meekly calls for help. The knife wound is slowly consuming the vivacity of her soul. And her soon-to-be carrion continues to rest in the middle of the cobblestone road, waiting for death to arrive.
"Do you wish to live?"
The voice of a young man, seemingly near her age, calls to her in the little crevices of each cobblestone. She asks:
"Who-Who's there?"
"Your second chance."
"My guardian angel?"
"No, child. I am certainly far from goodness."
Footsteps echo against the cement of the ground and suddenly halt beside the girl. Her ears are met with the hymns of spirits. It were the same hymns she heard as she witnessed her mother's passing from long ago. It was an operatic crescendo. And her senses are met with the stench of decaying roses. It was as if the young man doused himself in old cologne. She immediately knew this was no ordinary man.
"I will ask again. Do you wish to live?"
"Why would you-"
"The clock is ticking, darling. You don't have much time left."
This is a dream, she thinks, and in the morning I will see mama and we will have her delicious blueberry scones. Yet in her conscious abyss she knew this man was addressing her soul in reality and that he was an actual physical being standing beside her, waiting for an answer. And she yearned to convince herself that this was all part of a prolonged dream, mama was baking the scones at this very moment. The man knelt down and his sharp eyes meet hers.
"If so, your life, henceforth, will be one of unusual circumstances. I cannot guarantee happiness but I will most certainly be your faithful companion. Tell me, child, do you wish to live?"
A crow croaks from a distance.
"My dear, he is watching us and I would be lying to claim that they are not hungry; especially for innocent souls."
A faint murmur erupts from her mouth, "Who's watching us?"
"Your mother's murderer."
"Will he kill me?"
"I will make sure naught will harm you. When your destiny is fulfilled, I will stand with you at the very last moment."
He gently embraces her bloody hands into his.
"Who are you?"
"I am a grim reaper, a death collector. But I arrive here on different terms."
"You speak of this destiny of mine. What destiny?"
"A fate that will give you salvation."
"Then I wish it so."
He smiles.
In an instant, her blood ceases to seep and the wound closes in. This is the point of no return, the girl realizes. Infinitesimal glowing fibers enclose around her frail body, infusing into her veins. The rush of her zest being restored to her bones and heart. Her awakening begins. And her mind feel as if it were a feather, drifting amidst the greenery of a meadow, dancing in the wind of a gentle storm. It was his storm. The young man had enlightened her into a new world. Death no longer waited nearby.
His arms swooped, lifting her body from the cobblestone road. The bony fingers of his laced around her shoulder and gently drew circles upon it. Her head rested against his chest yet felt no heartbeat. His skin was a ghostly white and his breaths nonexistent. The scent of decaying roses had engulfed her senses and evoked a sudden drowsiness in her gaze. She yawned:
"Is he still watching us? Shall I keep awake?"
"You shall sleep. I'll protect you."
Eyelids flutter and close.
The young man walks into the darkness of the night, carrying the young girl into his world. The tune of a lullaby is sung under his breath.
The moans of the grass conjure the consciousness of the girl into the present, she continues to stand before her mother's grave. An ambiguous expression is placed upon her delicate face and her finger rise toward the sky in her last struggle of giving a farewell.
"He will protect me. You needn't worry."
Bony fingers appear laced around her shoulders and she feels the presence of his chest against the back of her head. The young man, brazen in his gentle jubilance, lurks behind the girl in a silent way. He whispers:
"Come now, darling. It is time to leave. Take my hand."
"I don't want to leave. I'm afraid. I'm so afraid."
He smiles:
"Let's talk of light, of darkness, and the forgotten souls;
Make my scythe your bridge to redemption
Sing your mother's song to the pillars of the universe
Embrace the stars against those envious creatures
For humanity's sake, let's talk of the fallen knights
How valiant in their pursuit of righteousness they are.
My darling, do not be afraid, for we can talk of lightness,
Of darkness, and the forgotten souls.
Take my hand now, and do not let go."