Snowdrops
Lildear18
Tim the Yeti
Hos
Charybdis
OliveYou
DiBALThere was a screeching of brakes. A sickening crunch as metal hit flesh. The whole world was turning upside down, and yet the whole world continued on, as it always did, oblivious.
死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ stood on the pavement, watching, waiting. They knew the accident was going to happen; they knew before the day had dawned, before those involved had always been born. They had always known. Known that this incident would happen here, on this day. And they had known that they would stood on this street, quiet and passive, as the events unfolded before them.
Fate was stitched into the fabric of time, always with that inky black thread that signalled death. Sometimes it lay at the end, but for some, death was only part of their journey.
死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ knew this. Such was the reality of a reaper. They existence purely to ferry the soul, the spirit, whatever name was given to that core-essence of life, from their corporeal form, from their cocoon that made up their body, and take them to wherever they were destined to be. A reaper’s role was impartial; they treated all the same regardless of their actions on Earth. Reapers were not bestowed with human morality, it was not their place to judge; and so, quite simply, they did not.
And so, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ was to go to this woman, to comfort her in her last moments of life, gently easing her from this realm and to the next. They stood, patiently watching events unfold. Eventually, they moved on to the road, silent as the grave.
Reapers would appear to the dying in many forms; it was not something that they had any influence over, however, and would find themselves cloaked in the apparition of whatever brought the greatest peace to the individual. Sometimes it was an angel, other times a loved one. Sometimes it was a creature unknown even to 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ themselves.
死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ reached the woman, wondering how she saw them. They knelt, placing whatever might amount to hands on either side of her face and leant in close, exuding an aura of serenity, a void that seemed to suck up fear and cast it to the wind.
But then, in an unexpected moment of curiosity, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ did what a reaper was not supposed to do.
Whispering in a voice unfathomable and intangible, that was felt in the soul more than heard, they simply said,
“Live.”
死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ stood on the pavement, watching, waiting. They knew the accident was going to happen; they knew before the day had dawned, before those involved had always been born. They had always known. Known that this incident would happen here, on this day. And they had known that they would stood on this street, quiet and passive, as the events unfolded before them.
Fate was stitched into the fabric of time, always with that inky black thread that signalled death. Sometimes it lay at the end, but for some, death was only part of their journey.
死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ knew this. Such was the reality of a reaper. They existence purely to ferry the soul, the spirit, whatever name was given to that core-essence of life, from their corporeal form, from their cocoon that made up their body, and take them to wherever they were destined to be. A reaper’s role was impartial; they treated all the same regardless of their actions on Earth. Reapers were not bestowed with human morality, it was not their place to judge; and so, quite simply, they did not.
And so, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ was to go to this woman, to comfort her in her last moments of life, gently easing her from this realm and to the next. They stood, patiently watching events unfold. Eventually, they moved on to the road, silent as the grave.
Reapers would appear to the dying in many forms; it was not something that they had any influence over, however, and would find themselves cloaked in the apparition of whatever brought the greatest peace to the individual. Sometimes it was an angel, other times a loved one. Sometimes it was a creature unknown even to 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ themselves.
死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ reached the woman, wondering how she saw them. They knelt, placing whatever might amount to hands on either side of her face and leant in close, exuding an aura of serenity, a void that seemed to suck up fear and cast it to the wind.
But then, in an unexpected moment of curiosity, 死̵̪͕̯̊̂̈́̇̚͝神̵̺͖͈̦̝̳̈̆͌͛́̋̅͘ did what a reaper was not supposed to do.
Whispering in a voice unfathomable and intangible, that was felt in the soul more than heard, they simply said,
“Live.”
