The Last Warning

May 25, 2011
By Anonymous

I am writing my last words now as this shadow looms over me, broken knife in hand, dripping blood from its past victims, ready to carve me as soon as I’m done. This will be your last warning before you enter: Don’t Disturb the Reaper. If you still don’t believe me, read my story an…
He was a troublesome boy, always finding a way to scare his sister and teachers. Beating little children for lunch money, interrupting class with noises, I knew his time would come soon. Then one day, he felt that he would prove that he wasn’t afraid of the “ghost” of Farcutt Mansion… me. He came in the dead of night, draped in black, showing no emotion, but I could taste his fear, deep within his heart, long forgotten. But I would teach him to fear once more. Wind whistling warnings, he approached the rusted gate. I watched from above from the attic window, lost in shadow. Squealing like my last favorite victim, the gate opened and the boy stepped through. He took a look around, absorbing the horror, frowning. As his eyes lay on the attic window, I tipped down my long brimmed hat and grinned with malice; allowing the slimmest bit of light to reflect off my bone white teeth. His frown cracked and mine widened as I faded into the darkness. He followed with little appeal. As the splintered door creaked open, I stood in the shadow waiting. “Not yet,” I said to myself, “not yet.” As he went from room to room, I was always five steps behind him, stalking. When he went into the library, I strode in and shut the door. He spun around franticly, with a wild look of terror in his eyes. He took three deep, long breaths. I chuckled; there was no telling that it was almost time for his demise. His fear was evident. He stared open mouth at the vast collection of books, a shelf that circled the room and went all the 16 feet to the ceiling. Of course a ladder wasn’t present. It was clear that I was a bookworm (dang it). “You think you’re not afraid?” I said, yanking down books. He yelped, I could feel him swallow. “No,” he said in a crackled voice, “I’m not.” “I can ease your fear,” I said stepping out of the shadow, hat tipped down, hands hidden in the coat. “No,” he said. “Well… too bad,” I looked up suddenly, showing my face as my knife slipped out of my left coat sleeve. I lunged at him, blade aimed at the heart. Screaming like a girl, he ran out slammed the door just before I hit him. There was a thud. The knife’s blade was completely through, inches away from its meal. “You can’t hide from me boy!” He ran. What seemed like forever for him, he got to the door as soon as I slammed and locked it. He hit hard. Before I got to him, he shook this head and ran up the nearby staircase. I shattered each step, but he was too fast. His blood was boiling. Once I was up, I followed his fear. When I got to the bed room though, the trail was gone. The windows were locked beyond opening. The dust on the floor was undisturbed. I heard a thud behind me. I slowly turned around to see a cloud of dust where he landed. I knew where he went. Dust was swarming as I strode down the hall. As I turned around a corner, I saw him in the observatory. My knife slipped back out and I walked in. “DON’T DISTURB THE REAPER!”

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