Michael Benjamin
Joined February 2023
0 stories
Bio
Stories (7/0)
Sharpening the Scythe
If walls could talk their screams would have been heard for miles if they were only attempted. Their vocal cords were withered from dry rot from the suppression of being able to express emotion. A looming exhaustion suffocated this room of self-induced purgatory. He was tired. Every night he would beg for the touch of death and each night a cloaked figure would appear, wield his scythe, sharpen the blade and leave. He couldn’t figure out why death kept sparing him. Each night he would knowingly lure him almost as if to taunt him. It was subconscious at this point. He embraced the darkness.
By Michael Benjaminabout a year ago in Longevity