The Cloak

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 as it becomes etched 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. Within seconds I am flying high above the treetops, the cold winter’s air blowing all around me. Then suddenly, without warning, in a quick fluid motion, a flap of his wings, Death releases me, and I fall through the black air gaining speed until finally 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, a thousand daggers piercing my lungs, my eyes become acquainted to the darkness. Above me lies the black abyss from which I had fallen. I turn my head and watch in horror as a volatile haze swallows the bones of men, women and children alike, and slowly creeps towards me. I close my eyes and wait for the tidal wave to strike. I feel a chill run up my spine as the asphyxiating fog fills my lungs. Then it stops.

I open my eyes to find that I am in the eye of the storm. My feet have disappeared and I can see nothing around me but a vast sea of grey. The fog moves in a peculiar fashion, circling me.

My senses heighten to near superhuman. Somewhere in the darkness I can hear Death’s cloak flapping violently in a self-perpetuated wind as he circles the treetops above the fog, a carnivorous bird stalking its pray. I can hear his slow patient breaths waiting for an opportune moment to strike. I can sense his thirst; that hunger for my flesh.

Suddenly silence. The world ceases to exist. The fog stops moving and I can see particles of condensed water suspended in mid air. 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 did when he split the Red Sea, gaining speed with no indication of slowing down. His air fills my lungs and gives me strength for what I’m about to do.

When he is inches from me, I reach out blindly and grab his grimy cloak and yank it off with ease. The fog dissipates and a final whisper, a gasp of surprise, escapes him 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.

Not sure where I am or where I am going, but any place is better than this. As I walk away 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. But I will not give in. I refuse to give in. I did not come this far to give up.

Then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, I am transported to an even more unfamiliar place with no recollection of how I got here. I arrive just in time to watch as a car 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 car. I can sense the boy’s flesh and it makes my stomach growl with hunger.

The car collides head on with a tree. The woman is flung head first from the vehicle and loses consciousness as her ragged body hits the frozen ground. My focus remains on the vehicle as I beckon the boy towards me.

The woman awakes shortly after, her vision blurred and her mind blank. In front of her she sees a car split in two by a tree and the events leading up to the car accident come flooding back. In a panic she checks the car, 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 is no longer there. As she falls to the frozen ground in tears, that’s when 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 was a windy night. Lightning. No thunder. No rain. A dark hooded figure stood outside of a cozy little home, watching and waiting, his cloak flapping violently in the wind. Upstairs a family of three is fast asleep.

His feet hovering just inches off the ground, he glides gracefully toward the home. With a flick of his wrist, the back door blows open and Death enters the home. A dog sensing his presence meets the intruder in the kitchen, ready to attack. Death simply turns and faces the barking creature. The dog backs away whimpering 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.

But 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. She 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 jumps out the window. She shields her eyes from shards of broken glass and runs to the window. 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.

I am yelling now, screaming as loud as I can for them to stay away, but they cannot hear me. The woman hobbles as fast as she can to reach her son who is walking towards 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 her in my arms and enclose her in my shroud. The boy watches in confusion as we fly away into the cold grey 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.