I always had an easy life.
Images roll past of a young girl with flowing black hair and husky blue eyes running through a garden, under trellises dotted with roses.
It was so perfect.
A golden dog comes to run alongside the girl and her mouth opens in a laugh. The dog circles her, and runs when she tries to catch it. In the distance, sitting on a bench, are a man and a woman. The man shares the girl's blue eyes, the woman her dark hair. A small boy, looking almost identical to the girl, waddles forwards, wanting to play as well.
For my whole life, I thought, 'I'm special.'
Pictures flash of friends that play with the young girl, only to be scolded by tall dark figures and carried away.
I thought, 'Life is wonderful'
The girl, now older and with chin length hair, walks a hallway of light, surrounded by the brighter halves of her friends as, in reflected images, others are surrounded by dark crowds of hatred, teasing and bullying.
Nothing could touch me.
Images now show a slightly younger –than-now Abigail, with hair just past her shoulders, dancing through pristine school hallways. All around her friends stab each other in the back, with smiles plastered to their faces. Boyfriends and girlfriends have their hearts torn on a wild rollercoaster ride of a relationship. Students slink to dark corners to escape reality. But she is still surrounded by that circle of friends, a halo of light protecting her from the darkness of the world.
Until that day.
A long yellow vehicle, a carriage with no horses, draws Abigail towards a city with buildings that seem to scrape the sky. She seems bored, almost, until the image begins to shake violently. The sky turns an apocalyptic orange and the air heats with tension. The bus stops in the road, the children press their faces to the glass.
It was the day I learned fear.
A dark figure appeared in the sky, a tiny speck that grew larger and larger. A low bussing sound permeates the air, and the children begin to fidget. A fight breaks out near the back.
It was the day I learned loss.
The figure draws closer; it seems to be aiming directly for the small vehicle. And as it gets closer it becomes clear just how massive it is. A huge storm of dust follows its flight, and the buzzing gets louder and louder. Then, just as its deformed head, its shriveled limbs, its crooked wings can be seen it passes the bus, at least a hundred feet to the side and a hundred above the ground. The bus careens into a roll, hit by a massive wind. It crashes into the ground, tumbling in circles. The windows break, kids scream, bodies fly. From the image, Abigail is nowhere to be seen.
It was the day I made a contract.
In the ally, Abigail gripped the lamp post with white knuckles, panting heavily. The reel of life had stopped just short of the end.
"My my, your story gives me quite the headache. I can't decide whether it's dull or not, it's so far from making sense." The red Reaper sighed, then lifted his blade high in the air. "Ah well, I'll just end it now, no reason to watch the whole thing."
As he brought the sword down in an arc, Abigail gritted her teeth, not willing to believe this would be the end.
It wasn't.
The Reaper's eyes widened. Before him stood a man with soft black hair and icy blue eyes, holding the tip of his sword between just two fingers. "Rather rude, I would say, to not even wait for the ending, Reaper." He pushed the blade easily to the side, the stunned Reaper providing little resistance. "I was so looking forward to it," he purred, glancing down to the girl at his side. In one sweep he lifted her into his arms and she, having lost more than enough blood, lapsed into unconsciousness. The dark man smirked at that, then looked up to address his adversary. "You really should- …"
"Oh my~! Where did you come from? My my, you remind me of a certain someone, so much so that I could just cut you up with my little 'ole death scythe~" The Reaper seemed to be putting on a one-man dance, wiggling his body in all sorts of…provocative ways.
The dark one raised an eyebrow, managing to crack only a small smile. "She was right, you certainly are a nut. Now, Reaper, I would suggest you leave, as I do not appreciate others going after my…prey."
"Oh, no! Call me Grell, sweetie, or even Grell-y, if you're feeling frisky." It was rather disturbing how this 'Grell' switched sides so fast, but hopefully it would make getting away easier- "And I do so like the frisky ones." He raised the sword and the mystery man tensed.
"Odd way to greet 'ones' you like."
"Ah, well, I don't like being bored, you see, and so-" Grell's voice was cut off as a figure managed to pencil dive right on his back, driving the red Reaper into the cobblestones.
What ensued was a surprisingly civil talk in which a certain "William T. Spears" apologized for the rash actions of a certain reaper. Looking over the girl in the dark man's arms, he adjusted a pair of spectacles balancing on his nose. "It appears that, though that girl registers as an anomaly, we of the Grim Reaper Dispatch cannot at this time judge her right to life. We will work to correct the anomaly and until then, I bid you…?
The man looked down at the girl at his arms, then back to Spears. "Azazel."
"Azazel, goodnight."
Soon enough the odd pair was gone, leaving 'Azazel' with the hopefully-not-dead-yet girl in his arms and bleeding all over his rather nice suit. "Hmph, no apology for going after my prey? Though at least I was able to see…" he stared down at the girl and frowned. "She had better be willing to talk, since I'm going to the trouble of saving her life."
And so the lone figure carried the girl to the nearest doctor, with far from a full intention to pay the bill.
And Azazel arrives! Sort of another short chapter, but I realized that short = more + faster, so yeah~
The plot thickens….next time Abigail and Azazel get to have a nice little chat about this and that~
