Agony. Torment. Anguish.

Unbearable pain shot through my body like the raining of a hundred cannons on a battlefield.

Blood reigned supreme. I lay patiently awaiting him. And my world, it started to go red.

Then- then. He comes to save me.

My immortal.

The most intoxicating persona to ever rule. My body went numb all over.  Grenades of pain screamed louder than lightening through this dying, mortal vessel. Does nothing scream louder than fading mortality? Can nobody but Fear speak?

Oh, make it end!

And then, red was all I saw.

Where did he go?


To my grace, carving out the red, he came again. I felt pain no longer. Was it possible to lust for this man who wore his hair as dark as night?

But as I thought, I wondered; how could anybody not?

His eyes took a long look at me and unravelled my soul carefully, like undoing silk with a needle tip.

A bomb exploded off in the distance.


Loneliness was ebbed all over him, despite this realm being his.

And then- pity. Pity; while he almost held me within his arms and wavered a moment.

No! No; oh angel! Feel not sorry and curse your blessing!

What nobler than you, Morte? Oh, what nobler than Death?

You are my forbidden fruit. You are my ambrosia.

Free me and make me immortal!

Free me! The last of my life was screaming.

Free me of this writhing angst; free me of this mortality and of this sate in between death an dying.

Hold me in your arms,  Morte; for I wish to sleep within.

Merci, Morte.


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