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2024-10-29 19:42:56My endless job lets me meet different kinds of people. Somewhere along these times, there are those who just want to be reborn, to start again after watching how their lives turn into shambles. Unfortunately, wishes aren't in anybody's command. They have to work for whatever their aspirations are no matter how hard their lives get. They only have an option to strive for it and be considered a winner, or give it up and be treated as a failure.
This can be observed from how they are raised from a young age. People, primarily the parents, are instilling these thoughts inside a children's mind without considering what pressure it brings as they grow up. Children who are raised this way tend to fear failure. When the expectations are not met, disappointment comes after. Sometimes, this will weigh on them all the way until the path they once knew just becomes blurry, with them left in the middle—unsure of what directions they should take. And along these times of uncertainty,
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Death's Narratives Chapter 10
Their stories are just a miniscule of narratives that belong to billions of people inhabiting this world. I always think of just sitting somewhere and collecting their souls by the time of their passing. But if I were to do that, then who'll be the one to tell their own stories? I believe that I have every right to do so.Aside from that, if I left the thousands of wandering souls unattended, it would be a complete disaster. The way to the other side is a dark and tedious path. They need a guide who will accompany them as they make their way to the Realm. And since they could not return to their bodies, they would meander—becoming lost, adrift in the land of the living. When that happens, they would become ghosts and eventually bring ill omen upon the world.Though natural disasters are essentially backed up by science, man-made disasters tell different stories. There are several events in history which are caused by these roaming ghosts that resulted in human ne
Death's Narratives Chapter 11
Three more attacks happened within the day. The cities of Lahore, Bekasi, and Yangon encountered fewer losses compared to the one in Istanbul, but it doesn't mean the lives lost there are insignificant. They died. Regardless of the numbers, they are still people whose stories have ended. Their narratives, including their last moments, I will be holding onto my memory until I forget them as time passes by.Twenty-three casualties combined to 103 in Istanbul alone. Due to the difference in the number of deaths, the attack in Hagia Sophia has taken the attention of international media. Holding the title as one of the most famous tourist destinations, people around the world are also waiting for more information about what happened to a heritage that harbors rich archives. Its beauty will forever be tarnished with the tragedy, while its history, just once again, needs an updating.
Death's Narratives Chapter 12
Here I am again. Outside the bungalow of someone who awakened after a grievous fall from a 70-meter building. I walk to the door and see it again: the doormat. Two weeks have passed and I wonder how many people have been offended by seeing the inscription and feel unwelcomed. Er, I think that she doesn't have many friends or even acquaintances considering how lacking her responses are towards them, except for that one persistent woman, named Honna, who has been calling her on a daily basis. I am not going to emphasize it further, but seriously, she needs to remove this freaking doormat.This is the only time, for over thousands of years of my existence that this happens. I always check on people from the day of their birth, be a witness to how far they'll go in life, and finally collect their soul when their time is up. But this time, it's different. I return to a human to collect her soul for the second time.Looking back on some instances, this had already happened b
Death's Narratives Chapter 13
Fivrelle wakes up from the sound of her ringing phone, a call from someone. Sneaking through the other side of the pillows after opening her eyes has always been her thing. Just staying still, feeling the cold parts of the bed brought by a not-so-good night sleep. As usual, her nightmare visited her in her slumber. Those pills just exempt her from having a hard time sleeping but not for the time when she is in the middle of an altered consciousness while not being awake. She rubs her eyes as she yawns and does some stretching before turning the phone down, doesn't even look at the one who's behind it. From the looks of it, she knows who it might be."Pesky phone calls. Every damn morning. So ea
Death's Narratives Prologue
Where should I start? Certainly, not from the start. I don't even recall the time when I got here. It has been so long since I have been conscious, I already forgot all about my very own existence. Did I just appear out of nowhere like a thought popping in someone's mind? Or was I already here since the beginning of time? Perhaps time, itself, will be able to tell. But for now, I do not know. I have been existing ever since that I see no difference between days turning into years, or years forming a century or even a millennia. These are justpassages of time which I have been wandering in endlessly. Oftentimes, I ask myself: what if the reason for my being here is to tell what actually happened out there? But to whom? People do not live long enough. In general, death is an imminent and an inevitable part of life. However, for the people who are about to die, it is always a scenario of acceptance and moving on to the other side. They al
Death's Narratives Chapter 1
The hospital hallways are a daily sight for me. The silence, which complements the whiteness of the surrounding and the solemn lighting, has always been there. Under the serenity that is bestowed by this ambience, there is always that crippling agitation. Usually, it is what people often call calm before the storm. Because the stillness does not last. Every day, I see people waiting on the seats trying to pacify themselves before hearing news from a doctor. And when the words come out, they would stand and face the wall, bowing their foreheads as they silently cry. I remember when someone said to me that hallways become disturbing around these times. Walls are being cramped and the floors are narrowing, causing them harder to breathe. Sometimes, I think about what is in the doctors’ mind as they deliver the bad news to the patient's family or to the patients themselves. Are they used at saying things that would shatter dreams in an instant? How come they contin
Death's Narratives Chapter 2
The black hooded robe made of a thick kind of fabric covers my entire body. It has been torn and shredded by the corners due to the course of time. The hood just suspends over my pitch black face, which I kept hidden and decided to never show it to anyone. In my right hand is my great scythe I fervently grip with my long skeletal fingers. My silvery pale, featherless, sharp wings spanning the length of a hospital room if not folded. Evon's hourglass is now completely empty. Unlike ordinary hourglasses that can be rotated to restart the time, this hourglass doesn't serve the same purpose. Once all sands fall from the upper bulb to the lower bulb, they will vanish. This indicates that time is something that cannot be repeated—that is why it is important to let everyone know that their days are numbered. There are a few people in the hospital at the time which accentuates the echoing cries of Seya. The uneasiness caused by that makes me hover the floor to the exit. As I
Death's Narratives Chapter 3
The sun illuminates the whole of the city. An hour from now, it will happen. A bus and a cab will collide causing three casualties, the cab's passenger, the driver and one crossing pedestrian—Sands.Walking the streets of New York is always good for a change of pace. At this time in the morning, the avenues and boulevards are congested with people, especially around the Time Square where major streets intersect, also making it one of the world's busiest pedestrians. Massive billboards and live broadcasts or advertisements from a number of large digital screens are seen even from a distance, earning the title of one of the major centers for the entertainment industry globally.On a sidewalk, I await for the bus routing West 47th Street. I check my wristwatch. It's 07:43. Three more minutes.The cab's driver will be crushed between the wheels and the seat resulting in his instant death. The cab's passenger will survive the impact but will die arriving at the
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- Death's Narratives
Chapter 13
Fivrelle wakes up from the sound of her ringing phone, a call from someone. Sneaking through the other side of the pillows after opening her eyes has always been her thing. Just staying still, feeling the cold parts of the bed brought by a not-so-good night sleep. As usual, her nightmare visited her in her slumber. Those pills just exempt her from having a hard time sleeping but not for the time when she is in the middle of an altered consciousness while not being awake. She rubs her eyes as she yawns and does some stretching before turning the phone down, doesn't even look at the one who's behind it. From the looks of it, she knows who it might be."Pesky phone calls. Every damn morning. So ea
- Death's Narratives
Chapter 12
Here I am again. Outside the bungalow of someone who awakened after a grievous fall from a 70-meter building. I walk to the door and see it again: the doormat. Two weeks have passed and I wonder how many people have been offended by seeing the inscription and feel unwelcomed. Er, I think that she doesn't have many friends or even acquaintances considering how lacking her responses are towards them, except for that one persistent woman, named Honna, who has been calling her on a daily basis. I am not going to emphasize it further, but seriously, she needs to remove this freaking doormat.This is the only time, for over thousands of years of my existence that this happens. I always check on people from the day of their birth, be a witness to how far they'll go in life, and finally collect their soul when their time is up. But this time, it's different. I return to a human to collect her soul for the second time.Looking back on some instances, this had already happened b
- Death's Narratives
Chapter 11
Three more attacks happened within the day. The cities of Lahore, Bekasi, and Yangon encountered fewer losses compared to the one in Istanbul, but it doesn't mean the lives lost there are insignificant. They died. Regardless of the numbers, they are still people whose stories have ended. Their narratives, including their last moments, I will be holding onto my memory until I forget them as time passes by.Twenty-three casualties combined to 103 in Istanbul alone. Due to the difference in the number of deaths, the attack in Hagia Sophia has taken the attention of international media. Holding the title as one of the most famous tourist destinations, people around the world are also waiting for more information about what happened to a heritage that harbors rich archives. Its beauty will forever be tarnished with the tragedy, while its history, just once again, needs an updating. Death's Narratives
Chapter 10
Their stories are just a miniscule of narratives that belong to billions of people inhabiting this world. I always think of just sitting somewhere and collecting their souls by the time of their passing. But if I were to do that, then who'll be the one to tell their own stories? I believe that I have every right to do so.Aside from that, if I left the thousands of wandering souls unattended, it would be a complete disaster. The way to the other side is a dark and tedious path. They need a guide who will accompany them as they make their way to the Realm. And since they could not return to their bodies, they would meander—becoming lost, adrift in the land of the living. When that happens, they would become ghosts and eventually bring ill omen upon the world.Though natural disasters are essentially backed up by science, man-made disasters tell different stories. There are several events in history which are caused by these roaming ghosts that resulted in human ne
- Death's Narratives
Chapter 9
My endless job lets me meet different kinds of people. Somewhere along these times, there are those who just want to be reborn, to start again after watching how their lives turn into shambles. Unfortunately, wishes aren't in anybody's command. They have to work for whatever their aspirations are no matter how hard their lives get. They only have an option to strive for it and be considered a winner, or give it up and be treated as a failure.This can be observed from how they are raised from a young age. People, primarily the parents, are instilling these thoughts inside a children's mind without considering what pressure it brings as they grow up. Children who are raised this way tend to fear failure. When the expectations are not met, disappointment comes after. Sometimes, this will weigh on them all the way until the path they once knew just becomes blurry, with them left in the middle—unsure of what directions they should take. And along these times of uncertainty,
- Death's Narratives
Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8"Why didn't you ask for more?""Tomorrow, they'll kill me. What's the point of having a feast?""I see. May I join you?""Sure. Have a seat.""Here is your hourglass. The amount of sand on top is your remaining time. Slowly, all the sand will fall indicating the end of your life."In one of the rows of prison cells inside the Lyreace Correctional Facility in Georgia, Colton Thrusue dwells. The four sides of the three and a half square meter cell have been surrounding him for over three years now. The window for ventilation is not present but an exhaust fan on the corner of the ceiling provides proper air flow. The only opening is the detention door that has a vertical rectangular glass which guards use for daily checking. The bed is fixed on the gray wall by the side of the room and is opposite to the sink and toilet.Colton was sentenced to serve the rest of his life waiting on the death row.
- Death's Narratives
Chapter 7
Possession is one of my prowesses as being the gatherer of souls. One at a time, I seized people's minds and bodies. To take control over them, merely for my selfish desire and curiosity. To know their thoughts and use it as a way to have a share of knowledge they acquired throughout their lifetime. Hundreds of thousands of people, with their flesh and bones, whom I manipulated in order to attain a fundament that I would use in forging my human form. Over the years, I succeeded.Seeing my reflection on the still water of Lake Baikal, I watched my body slowly materialize, naked and bewildered. Having my own human form, the envy I felt towards humans gradually dwindled. I was able to sympathize with them as their thought processes gushed like waves. However, the amassed contemplation all led to a terrifying, cryptic darkness. I saw myself in their pain and suffering as I knelt and begged for additional time.
- Death's Narratives
Chapter 6
The night watchmen did not even notice the loud thump when she hit the ground due to the northern soul song playing on the radio. Maybe they are preparing to end their shift, and loosening up after a whole night of guarding the establishment. They are different this time. I don't see the ones who were being interviewed the day of the last suicide case, which happened three months ago. They were terminated, obviously. Fortunately, the current guards would not be held liable for an incident without evidence.After walking a distance, the lady stands still at the rear of the building and leans her head on the glass partition. Unlike me, who cannot process everything just yet, she doesn't look like she is a bit bothered after what happened. Like she is already used to it. Like this had already happened before. That does not make any sense at all.She scans the surroundings before making a move. Because of the heightened security, cameras are all over the place. And if that
- Death's Narratives
Chapter 5
Dawn emerges indicating the start of a new day. While the moon exits the firmament, the dark sky changes its shade to a glow of purple and orange. The fading city lights give way to the slowly surfacing sun. For some people, another day is a blessing that they are grateful for. Others consider it an affliction for it is one more day to be lived out. I belong to the others. Myriads of times, or possibly every single day, that I have been saying this but I am going to say it anyway. It's just another day. One more day of fetching souls. Thousands of souls. Again. Ah, this never ends.
—— To be Continued... ——
