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Soul Reaper

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One night a young man was having some emotional issues.

He was distraught and despair is all he could feel.

One night, there was a violent storm outside.

The winds were whipping through the air violently.

The aluminum shedding outside rumbled like a drum in a melancholy march.

During his meditation, the young man broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

He was at his wit’s end, yet again.

As this afflected malady of his had been a constant recurrence though our much of his life.

The young man had worked hard to keep his affliction handled more over the years.

He accomplished this through his study of meditation and various magickal practices.

However, the more he worked to combat his malady, the more it seemed to grow throughout the years.

And so, he was forced to apply more techniques to suppress it.

But this one night, nothing seemed to work.

It was as if there was no light left for him to see.

His thoughts were empty.

No light or life seemed to make it to his hemorrhaged soul.

So at that moment, he remembered the words, that he once used, in order to bring it all to an end.

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You see, long ago, the young man had a broken heart.

But it was a broken heart made up of many broken hearts and experiences of his past.

The young man had learned there was a way to end it all.

Using certain magickal practices and techniques.

He learned long ago, to summon Death.

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Death, that which is absent of life.

Death, that which is the beginning and the end of all life

Death, the inevitable

Once before, the young man had summoned Death.

But after witnessing the reality of Deaths coming…

Like the aluminum shedding beating like the drum of a Death March…

Death was coming again…

So that night, after falling into a broken mound, the young man uttered the words.

With mind, body, and spirit, he invoked and welcomed death.

To come and visit yet again and to deliver him from this hell of which he was bound and shackled.

Then suddenly, the winds begin to whip.

The sound of the aluminum shed began to drum.

The windows began to rattle.

The young man freaked out while still meditating.

But he did not open his eyes.

He continued to look into the world of magick.

Maintaining his position as the prey of Death, the Hunter.

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And then, in that moment, something happened.

In the mind of the young man, he saw something flash.

And the next thing he knows, he was out.

Knocked out unconscious.

Hours later, he wakes up.

Groggy… still feeling the effects of his distraught state.

He thought he would get up and get into bed…

As he rose, he noticed there was something dark in front of him.

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He thought it was a shadow.

The lights were not on.

His eyes continue to look upward.

His eyes straining and focusing in the dark.

As he looks more, there is a long, seemingly thin black object in front of him.

He freaks out and jumps back.

As his eyes continue to look upward, he sees a face …

A menacing black face…

But it’s not a face… more of a face plate.

He then notices the very long white hair coming from sides of the menacing face.

But only parts of the hair are showing…

this is because the shadowy figure seems to be cloaked…

It seems to be wearing a hood or cape.

The young man yells, “What the hell are you?”

The figure says nothing,

The young man yells again, “Who the hell are you? Are you Death?”

The figure continues to say nothing and seeming stares at him.

The young man yells, “You are not wanted here. Begone now!”.

But in that moment, the young man realizes his command will not be executed.

He cannot dispel that which is has invoked.

Once again, the young man yells, “Helllo…. Are you like there or something’?

Once again, no response.

For this time, the young man notices that the figure has not been moving.

Actually, as his eyes begin to focus as the morning sun comes up, he notices that the shadowy figure is hanging from his microphone in his living room.

He also notices that the face seems to look quite odd the way it is sitting there gazing at him.

Upon future inspection, the young man notices that this is not a shadowy specter at all.

It’s not Death.

He sighs in relief… and heckles a little at his fear.

But upon further inspection, he learns this is not a specter at all…

But it is a mask… whig, cape, and clothing.

It’s a suit!

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