The Cloak of Death

Wherever I am, whatever this place, one thing is certain, time is irrelevant. There is no moon. There is no light. I am engulfed in total darkness, lying in a warm liquid – a mixture of aggregated blood and urine. The putrid stench overwhelms me, quickly filling my nostrils and etching itself into my torn, tattered clothing. The devil himself has come for me.

Out of the darkness, Death swoops down swiftly and encloses me in his shroud. His bony hands firmly grasp both of my arms, and within seconds I am flying high above the treetops, the cold winter’s air blowing all around me.

Suddenly stillness. As we levitate in the sky, I notice my capturer has no face. We are mere inches apart and his black hood conceals any facial features, as if staring into a dark bottomless pit.

Death removes his hands from my arms and my heart plummets into my stomach. Instinctively, I reach out for something to grasp, but my hands slide right through my capturer, as if he were a hologram. Yet somehow, I manage to stay afloat in the sky.

I track his left arm and watch as a bony forearm and fingers slither out of the black cloak and move to my throat. I feel the firm grasp of his cold, lifeless fingers and close my eyes in terror, awaiting the crushing pressure. Astoundingly, his left hand remains steady, while his right hand caresses my cheek, as if trying to comfort me. Then suddenly, without warning, Death gives a quick flap of his wings and releases me. I fall through the black air, continuing to gain speed, bracing myself for impact.

I force my eyes open, as if doing so will somehow awaken me from this terrible nightmare. In that precise moment, a series of lightning strikes illuminate the environment around me, each strike lighting up the sky longer than the last. Beneath me lay piles and piles of bones, enclosed by a thicket of lifeless trees. Regarding my capturer, all that can be seen is his black cape that moves with inexplicable speed.

On the third strike, Death is suddenly on top of me. As I look at the creature, I notice the skull that wasn’t there earlier. It slowly starts to fill with blood, muscles and tissue, taking on the form of my own face. I let out a silent scream, as lightning strikes and Death vanishes. The blackness returns and I land with a crunch upon hundreds and hundreds of bones; remnants of victims’ long time past. It is lost amid this sea of femurs and skulls that I realize Death has brought me back to his lair to feed upon my flesh.

As I lie there unmoving, trying to catch my breath, each short and sharp, like a thousand daggers piercing my lungs, I can hear Death’s cloak flapping violently in a self-perpetuated wind, as he circles the treetops above the fog, like a carnivorous bird stalking its prey. I can hear his slow patient breaths waiting for an opportune moment to strike. I can sense his thirst, that hunger for my flesh.

I try to open my eyes but they refuse, as if glued shut. Somehow, I am still able to see the outline of my surroundings. In a near perfect circle, the trees are about a hundred yards away. The fog grows thicker as it moves towards the center. The bones beneath me begin to move. Dozens of hands hold me down, making it impossible to escape. I can feel hands on the back of my neck and head turn me to the left. I watch in horror as a volatile haze swallows the bones of men, women and children alike, and slowly creeps towards me. A chill runs up my spine, numbing my body as it moves upwards. The asphyxiating fog fills my lungs but stops just below my chin. My entire body has disappeared and I can see nothing around me but a vast sea of gray. The fog moves in a peculiar fashion, circling me.

Suddenly silence. The world ceases to exist. Death is up there somewhere in the darkness, but I can no longer hear him. The fog has stopped moving and I can see particles of condensed water suspended in midair. It seems in that moment Death and I are one. We accept our fates with pride and dignity. I wait patiently for what’s about to come. The fog reverts back to its peculiar fashion, caressing my body, preparing me for a proper burial.

Death takes a deep breath and dives towards the vile, stagnant pool. He tears through the fog, cutting through it like Moses splitting the Red Sea, gaining speed with no indication of slowing down. His air fills my lungs and gives me strength for what I am about to do

When Death is inches from me, lightning strikes setting the trees ablaze. My eyes snap open and I reach out, yanking his grimy cloak off with ease. The fire is suddenly extinguished.

The fog dissipates and a final whisper, a gasp of surprise, escapes Death as he falls apart right in front of me, his bones disintegrating into a fine powder, comingling with those of his victims. A perfect, just ending.

Disoriented, I head towards what I believe is the East, following the only source of light, a peach orange sliver in a grayer than gray sky. As I trudge forward, emotionally distraught, the crunching of the bones beneath my feet creates a physical pain in my body, as if it is my own bones being destroyed. With each unforgiving step, the crunching grows louder and louder, and the gnawing in my bones grows more and more intense, to the point of madness. What I wouldn’t give to make the pain stop. As if hearing my call for distress, the cloak comes to life and attaches itself to me. I try and try to remove it, but the more I struggle, the more it clings to my body. It becomes my skin, my flesh. And yet, strangely the cloak provides comfort. The pain has subsided, like an addict in withdrawal given his drug of choice.

The peace is but temporary, as I am suddenly transported to an even more unfamiliar place with no recollection of how I got here. I arrive just in time to watch as a green station wagon hits a patch of black ice and spins out of control. I am but a hundred yards away, yet I know it is a woman and her son in the SUV. I can sense the boy’s flesh and it makes my stomach growl with hunger.

The SUV collides with a tree and the woman is flung head first from the windshield. Her ragged body lay unconscious on the frozen ground. My focus remains on the vehicle as I beckon the boy towards me.

Moments later the woman awakens, her vision blurred and her mind blank. In front of her she sees a green station wagon split in two by a tree and the events leading up to the accident come flooding back. In a panic she checks the SUV, hoping, praying that her son is okay. She frantically searches every inch of her snow-covered surroundings, but is horror-stricken to find that her son has vanished. As she falls to the frozen ground in tears, she notices the dark hooded figure watching her in the distance. Her eyes wide in fear and recognition, fill me with intuition; a mirror into the past.

It is a windy night. Lightning. No thunder. No rain. A dark hooded figure stands outside of a cozy two-story home, watching and waiting, his cloak flapping violently in the wind. Upstairs a family of three is fast asleep.

His feet hover just inches off the ground, as he glides gracefully toward the home. With a flick of his wrist, the back door opens and Death enters the home. A dog senses his presence and meets the intruder in the kitchen, ready to attack. Death simply turns and faces the barking creature. He watches the torment and confusion on the dog’s face with amusement, as it continues to bark silently. Helplessly, the dog backs away and Death watches the reflection of his orange eyes get smaller and smaller.

Upstairs, the mother awakes in a startle. Something isn’t right. She quietly slips out of bed and goes to the next room to check on her child. The boy is fast asleep in his crib. She lets out a sigh of relief and returns to her bedroom.

There stood Death at the head of her bed, his bony fingers inches above her husband’s face. Her husband is paralyzed, catatonic with fear. The woman screams and Death spins his head, keeping his body immobilized, hidden in the darkness, his eyes fiery red with anger. He hisses, grabs her husband and leaps out the window. She shields her eyes from shards of broken glass and runs to the window, watching as the hooded figure and her husband vanish into the rainy night’s sky.

Now here they stand, reunited, Death and the woman, one year later.

The woman hobbles as fast as she can to reach her son who is walking towards me. I am yelling now, screaming as loud as I can for them to stay away, but they cannot hear me. I can feel my body separated from the cloak, but I am trapped inside. I kick and scream on the sides of the cloak, losing my mind. It is a concrete prison with only a single window to view the outside world. No way in. No way out.

The woman gives me a look and I feel the cloak nod in agreement. She has made the ultimate sacrifice, her life for her son’s. I am weeping uncontrollably now, trying desperately to regain control of my body. But it is no use. The cloak is in control now.

I take the woman in my arms and enclose her in my shroud. The boy watches in confusion as we fly away into the cold gray overcast sky of late December and out of sight. I take her back to my lair and feed upon my wife’s flesh in misery.