Red ran down the swords, dripping across the stones. A black cloak wrapped around us like a blanket made of bones. Screams burned in the distance as our souls melted in the fire with them. A bitter taste hit our tongues, like poison sucking the air from our lungs. Grey buried the world. Each step taken was heard through the crackling silence as shadows sunk further back into the corners from which they came. But they could not hide. Nothing could hide from death and today, the grim was ready to reap.
Shifting shapes danced in the smoke. Each one as predictable as the next.They moved and then stopped. All of them fragile and broken as they lay upon the earth. Each face seemed surprised or scared. Did they not know that nothing cuts through life like a knife, like a knife? Sharp to the point and lacquered with ichor of the fallen. Each cut paints the world in vivid color. Eventually it will all fade to black but for now it was beautiful like wilting roses about to lose petals. Still alive but slowly losing the battle.
I was not always a reaper but today, as I peered into the eyes of the fallen, I knew I would end up here no matter what I did. I was ruthless and felt nothing as blades slid through flesh as if it was nothing. People were fragile. So breakable between the fingers.