His Feet Pounded on the Pavement

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His feet pounded on the pavement as he tried desperately to escape the shadow that pursued him. His lungs burned with each ragged breath and his muscles cried in protest as he continued to push himself to run faster. Turning sharply down an alley he tried to give himself some cover between two buildings. Jumping over a fence he continued his mad dash. Splashing through a puddle he spared a quick glance at the rooftops only to see a shadow for an instance flash across the moon. How was this possible what was this being that pursued him so tirelessly? He knew for a fact that they couldn’t be human, and yet he was unlike any warewolf or vampire that he had ever seen.

It was impossible nothing living could move like that I’m being chased by death itself his thoughts becoming a jumbled mess of panic and fear. Is this punishment he thought had his life finally caught up with him? For hundreds of years he had lived his life striking fear in the hearts of others. For the first time he finally knew what it felt like, but this was far beyond just fear this was pure unbridled terror. It was those eye, those golden eyes that seemed to go on forever. They were like bottomless pools that seemed to reach into your soul. When he looked into those eyes even for the brief moment he knew he was looking into the eyes of death itself.
An icy chill gripped him, and put an abrupt halt to his frenzy. His body would not obey his commands and he suddenly felt sick as he watched the dark figure of his hunter step forth from the shadows. “Who and what are you?!” he asked his fear evident in his voice.
“I am everything and nothing, as for my name it doesn’t matter, but you can call me Reaper,”
“What do you want from me?!” he asked his fear evident in his voice.
“Silence,” there was a flash of steel, a shower of crimson, and then there was silence that ever perfect silence that always accompanies death.





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