Teaser

First it was searing heat, a piercing savage burn whose only purpose was destruction, pain, and death. As it flares out it demands attention until every inch of my mind thinks of only one thing.

[It hurts.]

Screaming, I tear at my chest trying to dislodge the intruder. But as I scratch, claw, and cry it only smiles back at me wider as the pain grows. Like an intense song reaching its peak the heat flares threatening to burn me up completely.

[It hurts, it hurts, arghhhhhhh!]

The pain grows. My eyes widen to their limits, the world is dyed red, insanity threatens to take over.

[AAAAAH, gwah, stop…]

The pain rises prepared for the final act, somehow it seems to smile mockingly at me. This is the end of its play; it wishes it could have stayed longer.

[IT HURTS! ARGHHH, GWAHH …. !?!]

But then it's gone, my muscles give out and my eyes blur, the searing heat is gone, however something has taken its place, something far more sinister.

[It's cold…]

Cold, it's so cold, it feels as if every inch of my body has been submerged into ice and yet I do not shake. While I danced with the heat it seems this cold has crept up and wrapped around me unnoticed, silent.

This is better, anything must be better than the pain I felt before, but that's when I notice. Where the pain before would smile and mock me this cold only stares on with a sliver of anticipation. The kind you would see in individuals who take pleasure in burning puppies or ripping the limbs off insects.

My mind is filled with despair, I realize this cold is anticipating my death. I don't want to die, to cease to exist, my life was far too short.

[No, it's so cold, please …]

Despite my pleas, the cold stares on. I wish I could feel anything, anything except this cold. My eyes blur further, the cold's eyes sharpen in anticipation, death is approaching.

[c-c-cold….]

Slowly, even speaking becomes hard and my thinking slows, I can't feel anything anymore, not even my own pulse, yet I feel a brief strand of anger. I spit out my last words.

[Dying huh, yea... guess I'm dying. Wouldn't things be better off without death?]

Why exactly do we die anyways?

Ugh, I'm fading.

...

???:[Hey you.]

Then I hear it, a terrible voice rings out inside my mind, gruesome and sinister. I struggle to open my eyes and look past the sacrificial knife buried in my chest, the source of my pain, cold and looming death.

There I see it, a figure clad in brown robes looking at me with cold eyes and a mocking smile, somewhere in my subconscious I've felt those eyes and smile somewhere before...

The figure's eyes lock onto mine.

???:[What you just said, do you really believe that?]

The voice seems to come from inside my own skull, loud, far too loud. Its eyes are deep black like an endless void, I can't look away. I struggle to respond.

[W-what?]

???:[You said you would be better off without death. Do you truly believe that?]

[Of course...]

???:[Why?]

Isn't that obvious? Is this person sane, who would ever want to die? I was about to respond back venomously, but something about those eyes made me think I shouldn't.

[Death is sad, painful, hateful, grim and full of despair. Nothing good comes from it, everybody despises it and it's a shackle.]

I weakly pointed to the knife in my chest.

[This insanity would never have ended me or my story...]

It stares at me intently, and stares at the knife in my chest, blood bubbling out of the wound. I can't read what it's thinking, why was it still smiling? Finally, it responds.

???:[Interesting...]

[ !? ]

The figure pulled out a piece of paper and a feather pen from its robe.

???:[This is a contract. I will prevent your death; in return you need only do some odd jobs for me every now and again. It's quite a good deal to be honest, I suspect you will accept so I will sign first.]

The figure scribbles onto the parchment. Then hands me the feather pen and contract pointing to a certain spot.

???:[ Sign here.]

[W-wait, what's the job?]

???[ Gravedigger. A small town nearby will be in need of one soon. The previous one died due to old age.]

I gulp, that doesn't sound so bad, I thought it would be something like selling my soul. I know gods can request anything in contracts. Work as a gravedigger to save my life, deal!

I sign my name and as I hand it back to him, I happen to glance at his signature. My eyes widened, for some reason it read 'Izmus - God of Death'. The figure caught my look and laughed erily.

???:[Oh yes! I never introduced myself ...]

It stepped back and made an exaggerated bow while sliding the contract into its robes at the same time. It looked up at me and I was trapped by the black void of its eyes once again. It began to present itself.

No, no, no, no, not good, not good at all! My vision begins to blur further as blackness creeps in, but in my last moments I see it's smile widen darkly as it announces itself.

???:[I am the savior of the damned, the one true God of Death, Izmus. I look forward to our partnership.]

Then darkness takes me.