Death dying

Death had existed for thousands of years, watching over the earth and leading away its victims one after the other, giving them safe passage from this existence to the next. Willing or not, he took them by the hand and showed them the path to the afterlife, after which he never saw them again. Countless numbers of people, animals, and even plants and bacteria. If there was death, he was there.

In all his years of service, this was something he had never quite experienced.

Not everyone was prepared to die. Some died before their time, while others were destined to die but felt that they had not complete everything that they wanted to do. Many argued, pleaded, begged and cried, and there were a fair share who physically fought with death to stay in the mortal world. But it was their ties to mortality that prevented them from ever standing a chance, for mortality had abandoned them, and had never once touched him. They came at him with swords, arrows, and guns, but their blows passed through him without harm as he approached to take them by the hand.

But this man had something that he should not have had. Something that Death had never witnessed before, for he himself had never been past the gates to heaven and hell. He didn't even have the words to express its presence - he suspected that there were no mortal words that could. But it was evident where it had come from, and that in some way this mortal had learned to wield it, for he brandished in Death's direction as he approached. And what was Death to do? He had been created for the express purpose of guiding onward the dead and dying. How could he stop now? Death allowed no exceptions.

He tried to be reasonable. To explain the situation as he approached, that it wasn't personal, that he was only doing his job. The man clearly did not care. He had obtained a way to fight Death, and he intended to use it. Death knew not if this was a good or bad man - it was not his place to judge. Regardless of what benefits his life may have given, the man must move on.

But Death could not lay a finger on the man, before his weapon was thrust forward. It was burning fire in Death's chest, spreading. Was this pain? Was this what so many had complained of? He could understand why, now.

Tunnel

Moriah followed the boy as he led her to the outskirts of the city, over a fence to a gated area which she knew most people had never entered. The fact that he was taking her there gave her a better idea of what had happened - she was glad that she had a brought a flashlight and some mace with her. Perhaps that wouldn't be enough, but she was still just a teenager, and it was better than nothing. One of these days, if she was going to keep helping out these kinds of people, she was going to have to get something better to defend herself with. A gun, preferably, though even a decent knife would probably go a long way.

It was late at night, but the ephemeral glow surrounding the boy was enough for her to ensure that she wasn't going to trip on anything. For her, at least. If anyone else had been with them they probably wouldn't be able to see a thing, but her eyes were a little bit different than other people's. After all - she was following a dead kid to where his body had been left behind.

He stopped in front of the entrance to an underground tunnel, built by man but clearly abandoned. There was a large amount of graffiti both around and inside the entrance, though it was impossible to see much further. Moriah flicked on her flashlight and waved it down the tunnel, checking to see if there was anyone waiting for her just out of sight. She doubted the kid was trying to deceive her, but she also didn't know how long it had been since he died, and if it had been a person that did it, they could still be waiting nearby. It was better to be safe than sorry.

The kid looked back at her, the mixed look of fear and longing clear in his eyes. It was not the first time she had seen that look, and it was likely not going to be the last. She reached out a hand towards his and wrapped it around where it would have been, coiling into a tight fist as he phased through her. She knew he couldn't feel anything, but she could also see that he appreciated the gesture. He turned back to the tunnel and headed in without a word.

She really wished the dead could speak. To actually explain what had happened, to explain why they were afraid. She always wondered if it was just because they knew they would have to look at their lifeless bodies or if it was because of whatever had killed them. But as it was, there was only one way to find out. So she followed.

Hike

There's something downright magical about spending your time out in nature, just putting one foot in front of the other, following dirt trails and climbing mountains far away from the structure of civilization. Feeling fresh air on your skin, hearing the wind in the air and animals all around, or water flowing nearby. It has the unique ability to clear your mind and look inwards, to examine the things that have been happening in your life with a level head and make decisions that can lead you in new and better directions.

The weird thing, too, is that even when you know that, it's hard to make yourself go do it. When you're not actively out there, all you remember is the sweat and the strain in your legs as you constantly push yourself up steep dirt hills and over rocky faces. You remember getting back to the car feeling exhausted and just wanting to get home so you can sit down and rest, eat some real food, maybe take a shower to rid yourself of all the sweat and dirt.

But part of what makes it so great is the fact that it makes those tasks, that are completely mundane and every day activities, incredible. When you are that tired, that hungry, that sore, everything in your daily life that you normally take for granted suddenly becomes the best thing that you've ever experienced. To sit in a soft chair, to eat real food, to drink something other than stale water. Small things that many of us never even have to think about. And suddenly they're more than we could ever hope for.

It's amazing how such a small thing can have such an impact, and how quickly that impact can be forgotten. If I go on a hike for a few hours, it takes less than an hour after I get home to forget about the things I thought about while I was out there, and how much better everything at home feels after a hard day on the trail.

But it's still there, in the back of my head. I still remember the sights I saw out there. The way it felt. The things that I've done, and the accomplishments I have made. The literal mountains that I have climbed. And I know how much work I put in to do those things. How hard what I did was, and knowing that I could do it again. Knowing that I should.

It's a feeling I wish more people could experience.

Bad luck

Harold kept himself an outcast for the most part, staying on the edges of society and trying his best to keep his human interaction to a minimum. He had learned from a young age that it didn't take much from him to have major impacts on people's lives, and that it was best he was extremely careful with whose life he touched. It didn't take much for him to make a permanent difference.

But he had to go into town from time to time in order to get food and other supplies, and it was about time for that journey. He did his best to keep a low profile as he did so, wearing very bland clothes and keeping his head forward and his eyes down, a hat pulled low to shade them. He went to the big discount stores with mass supplies - he was buying for months at a time. They were often crowded, and he did his best to keep to the edges and not run into anybody, but it was inevitable at times. Especially with the other kind of people who took that kind of a route.

It didn't take long for him to find a small crowd of teens in a corner, thinking they were hot shit as they kicked a boy folded up in the fetal position on the floor. Harold didn't want to get involved, he knew he shouldn't get involved, but when he saw things like that he couldn't help himself. He stomped his feet on the ground as he approached, making sure to draw their attention and hopefully give the boy a chance to escape. Though he knew the kid wouldn't - it wasn't the first time he'd seen a situation like this.

Before any of them could speak out at him, he lifted the hat off of his head, revealing the deeply scarred and pupil-less left eye. The look of disgust and terror spread over their faces like wildfire, as he knew it would, and with another step forward they were bolting. They thought they were big and tough, but they didn't want anything to do with someone who had been through something like he had been. Typical.

He crouched next to the kid, who was shaking and holding his stomach, eyes closed tight. "Get up, kid," Harold muttered. "They're gone. They can't hurt you now."

The kid slowly opened his eyes to look up at him, the fear in his eyes only amplified when he saw Harold's. But he couldn't say no to the outstretched hand that pulled him up to his feet. It was clear he wasn't sure what to say, but he left without a word as Harold ushered.

Harold looked down at his hand, feeling the energy rush through him as it had so many times before. That kid had been real unlucky. Harold wondered how much worse he was gonna get.

Leadership

As a leader in boy scouts, knowing that I was in charge of a massive group of boys with a wife range of ages, I knew that I was in for a hard time. I was constantly on edge, always looking over my shoulder to see if anything was going wrong, and I was extremely aware of which boys were the problem children and who they were most likely to picks fights with. This was especially true when I was leading summer camp, because even though it was a smaller group, they were in much more contact with one another, and they were spread around a much larger, more obstructive area.

There was one boy I remember especially well. He was a smaller kid, still pretty new to the troop, and it was apparent that his parents had signed him up with us in the hopes that he would learn to control his temper. Quick note - don't do that. Boy scouts is not the place to learn to control your temper. That is marital arts.

I was speaking with my adult leaders about how the week was going, what was coming up, what kind of things we needed to focus on, when I had this shiver go down my spine. Something was going on - I instinctually knew this. And I was not mistaken. I looked over my shoulder to see this small boy lifting a shovel above his head, face pointed very distinctly at one other boy who I knew he had been growing irritated with. This kid was about to slam a shovel into someone's head.

I muttered a quick "I'll be right back," as I was already throwing myself onto my feet, sprinting as hard as I could at the boy. Fortunately I was not the only one who had seen him, because I was not going to make it to him in time - another boy came up behind him and quickly pulled the shovel from the boys hands. It took him a brief moment to realize what had happened and turn around to try and fight for it, and by then I had made it in time to grab him in a bear hug. The adults were on their way behind me - an issue like this was beyond my ability to take care of.

As the kid changed hands and was lead away, head hanged in shame, I thanked the other boy for acting as he had and asked him if he knew what had happened. Evidently, the kid was very upset that this other scout had been poking holes in the ground. He had been trying to cover the holes, but he was slower at covering them than the other was at making them.

Kids.

Stalking

It was almost impossible to see with how much snow was falling down, even with the windshield wipers going at full power. There was only so much they could push out of the way before the next wave of ice fell from the sky to obstruct the view. It didn't take long for Michael to pull over and stop, grumbling to himself for not taking his father's advice and leaving the party earlier. The blizzard had come in late into the night - if he had stayed at his friend's house, he would be stuck come morning. But at this point, he would be stuck in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night. And his engine would die before morning, and he would freeze.

As he tried to think of what to do, the shadow of the clouds grew over him quicker than he expected. It was a subtle change, as the only light in the sky was the moon that late at night, and so it took him longer than it might have to notice. When he finally did notice, he was surprised to look out through the small cracks in the snow on his windshield and see the clouds beginning to break. If they weren't what was blocking out the moon...

His heart skipped a beat as he swiveled in his seat to see a massive black figure looming just behind his car. The windows were slanted enough that the snow hadn't piled up yet, but he could barely see what it was that was standing behind his car. It was much bigger than he could make out through the windows, and its was entirely black, without any details to go off of. If anything, it appeared to be standing on four legs as it slowly approached the car.

The closer it grew, the darker his car became, as the monster's shadow grew heavier around him. He couldn't do anything - if he tried to make a run for it, he would be running straight into it, to say nothing of the thick snow that had fallen around him. He could try and drive away, but it would take a few moments for the tires to gain any traction, and the action would easily be notice by the monster. If it thought he was stuck and dead, it might leave him alone. But if it saw him try to escape...

Suddenly the snow was being wiped away from his windshield by a black furred appendage. He froze. And then there were bright, glowing yellow eyes staring through at him.

Candle

Moriah could feel the burning in her hand as she navigated the dark and narrow side streets, knowing that she didn't have much time before the flame went out. Wax was dripping down her arm and nearly coated her hand as she held the burning candle - its melted wax had dried around the base some time ago, which had sealed it to the palm of her hand. She was glad she had an affinity for the flame - the delivery was important, and this set up kept the candle safe in her possession, with little likelihood of her accidentally losing it.

If her master was so desperate to retrieve this candle, whatever the reason was, she was going to follow through and deliver it. The problem was that he had not informed her before she had departed that it was already burning, and would in fact not stop burning, no matter how hard she had tried to put it out. Water, dirt, pinching between her fingers - nothing would put out the flame. Whatever was keeping it burning, she was sure, was what her master was looking for. She only hoped that, even with so little of the base candle remaining, it would have what he needed by the time she returned with it.

She was not the only one searching for it, of course, but she felt fairly confident that she was the only one who could hold it as she was. It made it a lot easier to transport, especially as it was melting down - it had gotten to the point where she could actually close her hand around it. The flame tickled at her fingers, but she had long since become immune to the pain of fire. It was necessary when you were working as an alchemist - the frequency with which one burned their hands handling red hot flasks was immense. She enjoyed it though - and she looked forward to working with her master to learn how this candle was made.

She slipped into the workshop, glad to have been undetected. She knew the streets well, so she wasn't surprised that no one had been able to follow her. It was late at night, and she had been able to cover the light of the candle, so she was moving under cover of darkness. She was pleased that her master liked what he saw - she had arrived with more of the candle in tact than even he had anticipated, thanks to it melting and sealing around her hand. It took some effort to remove it, and she lost a fair bit of the subtle hair that was on her arm, but it was well worth it.

Now they just had to learn its secrets.