345th Post

Night falls.

Fear overcomes a poor soul.
As he witnesses.

This black hooded figure with black tattered wings.
Whose skeletal hands hold a scythe.
Which no human can normally weld with such precision.

Whose merest touch.
Brings death onto others.

For he is none other than.
The Archangel of Death.

As it claims another soul.
To be hauled off to the land of the damned.

One could not help but wonder.
Who's next?

And so.
They live in constant fear.

Of getting claimed.
By an angel of death.

But yet.
What is so fearful about death?

Is it that scary?

I don't know.
Perhaps its something that i will never understand.

But i will wait for the day.

The day.
That the Archangel of Death.
Comes to visit me.