This story takes place from the point of view of an old man.
In the darkness, the deep consuming darkness which hovers above a young girl are her memories, her life, and her joy. This young girl is rotting away, far away into the darkness. Who is this girl? This girl is my wife. My dear, precious wife.
She sits in her chair, staring into the darkness above her. It slowly sucks the life out of her. She sits and rocks, sits and rocks. The creaking of the old wooden chair is loud enough to wake someone up in the night.
"Honey, please come to bed!" I would say to her. She would just sit there and stare. Rocking back and forth, back and fourth.
I would just go to our bedroom, slip into my pajamas, and retire to bed. In the distance I would here the creaking of the old chair. Back and fourth, back and fourth.
But one morning, I got out of bed and went into the kitchen, hoping that things would different that day. But I was wrong. I heard no creaking from where I was so I thought she had finally moved.
I went into the living room with high hopes of her being active, only to find a knife sticking out from her chest. There was blood on the floor and her hands.
She was dead. My dear, precious wife was dead. I ran to her, with tears strolling down my cheeks. I grabbed her hand, squeezing with all of my strength.
"Please don't be dead!!" I cried. But deep down in my heart, I knew the worse had happened. I sat there, with her hand in my hand, crying. I was crying because I had known something was wrong.
I was crying, because I didn't do anything about it. An hour had passed and her body was now ice-cold. I got up, wiped the tears from my eyes, and picked up the phone.
"H... hello? 911? Someone get o...o...over here q...quick!" I sobbed into the phone. I dropped down to my knees, and asked my self, why did she do this? Why did she end her life?
I closed my eyes and put my hands to my face. I brought my hands down again and looked at them. I was terrified at what I saw. On my hands, was blood. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" I yelled.
Then, I heard voices outside. It was the police. The door banged open and a group of officers crowded into the room. "Put your hands behind your head!" One of them said. I did so.
I was cuffed, and stuffed into a police car. We soon arrived at the station where they dragged me inside. I was placed into an interrogation room. They shoved me into a chair.
I looked at myself in the one-way mirror and saw- not myself, but my wife! "WHAT THE HELL?!" I screamed. Then, suddenly, I was at my house again. I was sitting in the old rocking chair in the living room, rocking back and fourth, back and fourth.
"What on earth?" I said aloud. I looked up, and saw a cloud of darkness. I felt cold, I felt weak, and I felt like dying. I sat there and stared. And I also rocked back and fourth, back and fourth.
I reached under the chair and brought out a knife. What the heck am I doing! I thought in my head. I can't control my arm! I yelled in my head. No this can't be happening! I kept saying in my head.
I raised the knife above my head, and brought it down fast and hard. It penetrated my clothes, my skin, and my heart. Blood came out of my mouth. I saw darkness, and, a dark figure hovering above me.
It had a hood, shadowing it's face. In it's hand, it had a staff with a sickle on the end of it. It cames towards me, raised it's sickle, and took me to...
In the darkness, the deep consuming darkness which hovers above a young girl are her memories, her life, and her joy. This young girl is rotting away, far away into the darkness. Who is this girl? This girl is my wife. My dear, precious wife.
She sits in her chair, staring into the darkness above her. It slowly sucks the life out of her. She sits and rocks, sits and rocks. The creaking of the old wooden chair is loud enough to wake someone up in the night.
"Honey, please come to bed!" I would say to her. She would just sit there and stare. Rocking back and forth, back and fourth.
I would just go to our bedroom, slip into my pajamas, and retire to bed. In the distance I would here the creaking of the old chair. Back and fourth, back and fourth.
But one morning, I got out of bed and went into the kitchen, hoping that things would different that day. But I was wrong. I heard no creaking from where I was so I thought she had finally moved.
I went into the living room with high hopes of her being active, only to find a knife sticking out from her chest. There was blood on the floor and her hands.
She was dead. My dear, precious wife was dead. I ran to her, with tears strolling down my cheeks. I grabbed her hand, squeezing with all of my strength.
"Please don't be dead!!" I cried. But deep down in my heart, I knew the worse had happened. I sat there, with her hand in my hand, crying. I was crying because I had known something was wrong.
I was crying, because I didn't do anything about it. An hour had passed and her body was now ice-cold. I got up, wiped the tears from my eyes, and picked up the phone.
"H... hello? 911? Someone get o...o...over here q...quick!" I sobbed into the phone. I dropped down to my knees, and asked my self, why did she do this? Why did she end her life?
I closed my eyes and put my hands to my face. I brought my hands down again and looked at them. I was terrified at what I saw. On my hands, was blood. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" I yelled.
Then, I heard voices outside. It was the police. The door banged open and a group of officers crowded into the room. "Put your hands behind your head!" One of them said. I did so.
I was cuffed, and stuffed into a police car. We soon arrived at the station where they dragged me inside. I was placed into an interrogation room. They shoved me into a chair.
I looked at myself in the one-way mirror and saw- not myself, but my wife! "WHAT THE HELL?!" I screamed. Then, suddenly, I was at my house again. I was sitting in the old rocking chair in the living room, rocking back and fourth, back and fourth.
"What on earth?" I said aloud. I looked up, and saw a cloud of darkness. I felt cold, I felt weak, and I felt like dying. I sat there and stared. And I also rocked back and fourth, back and fourth.
I reached under the chair and brought out a knife. What the heck am I doing! I thought in my head. I can't control my arm! I yelled in my head. No this can't be happening! I kept saying in my head.
I raised the knife above my head, and brought it down fast and hard. It penetrated my clothes, my skin, and my heart. Blood came out of my mouth. I saw darkness, and, a dark figure hovering above me.
It had a hood, shadowing it's face. In it's hand, it had a staff with a sickle on the end of it. It cames towards me, raised it's sickle, and took me to...