Don't Fear The Reaper

Anna coiled into herself, in the absolute center of her pallid prison.



        Silence pulsed.



Dry heaves were her desperate attempt to puncture the complete medicated numb, which was gradually swallowing her whole. They echoed against the four walls keeping her captive, gaining momentum with each ricochet.



        She laid back, succumbing to the confinement of her strait jacket, tired of trying to struggle against its constraint. The deep blue of the fabric restricting her movement created an obvious blemish against the sea of white she rested on.



        Her eyes were shallow, lifeless pits of nothing. The indecipherable set of her face subconsciously turned the green orb of her eyes to bored shades of grey.



        Tears streaked silently down her face, over her ears.



        There was no hair to frame the frigid curve of her cheekbone. The remains of her lustrous, bronze curls sheeted her scalp with stiff stubble.



        She sat up when she heard the door creak open.



Anna waited, starring at her skeletal legs. She waited for a blithe nurse to prance in, only to inject her with whatever concoction they fashioned that was making her feel so anesthetized.



Watery eyes scrunched closed. The plain of the white surrounding her forced a churn in the pits of her stomach.



She stirred, wrapped uncomfortably, incarcerated. She longed to stretch her arms, to wrap her gaunt fingers around the neck of the doctor that put her in this damned jacket.



        Anna decided to open her eyes when she didn’t hear the soft shushing of her nurse.



        She was sure she had gone completely insane when she saw the beaming light through the open door across the room, instead of the desolate hallway, that usually waited beyond her chamber.



        The shine was harsh; her already saturated eyes squinted into thin lines, tears futilely spilling over her motionless lips.



        A man glided out from the light.



        Insane became an understatement, as she starred, wide eyed.



        He was tall, bald and the most angelic being she had ever laid her eyes on. The tux he wore didn’t do the precise chisel of his physique any justice. His feet were naked. The smirk he wore was full of magnetism, his russet eyes overflowing with fervor.



        Words failed her while she staggered to her feet, flabbergasted, refusing to take her eyes off of the cherub approaching her.



        “Join me.” The angel purred. He seemed to float as he came toward her.



        The sound of his voice doubled her heart rate. The entity circled her, studying her every move. Before long, she felt his arctic breath on the back of her neck. Every hair on her body stood erect.



        “Join us, Anna.” His pant floated up and over her shoulders. She shivered, whether from pure terror, or the chill of his exhale, she had no idea. The cold molested her with fortitude, progressing throughout her entire body, from the pits of her stomach, to the tips of her toes. She was jacketed with goose bumps; the trembling in her legs grew violent as the seconds ticked.



        In attempt to speak, her parched lips separated, but were interrupted by a seductive shushing in her ear. Another shudder involuntarily attacked her.



        The angel hummed. “It’s easy, my child.”



        A radiant hand appeared out of her peripheral vision. She was too blank to focus on it, and continued to stare forward, almost unable to take her eyes off of the glowing door, still distracting her with the beam.



        The angel drug a single, icy finger across her throat.



        In that moment, her entire world disintegrated. The white room was fictional as she looked down, horrified, to find her entire body dripping with blood, her blood. The red was gushing, relentlessly, out of a slit in her throat. Blood spilt to the pure white of the floor, staining it scarlet.



        Her deafening, horrified screams were muffled by a cold, bloodied hand. The angel pulled her against his sturdy chest, wrapping another frozen arm around her inundated elfin waist.



        Anna struggled wildly, within the captivity of her jacket, ample with terror.



        “Shhh,” the angel whispered with closed eyes. “Feel it. Feel your blood. Feel its comfort. The warmth of it, pouring it’s serenity over your entire body.” The angel bent closer to her, if that were feasible. “Have you ever felt anything like it?”



        She closed her eyes hesitantly and focused. Instantly, the blood that flooded around her wasn’t so terrifying. It mended the frosted feeling of the angel’s body against hers. The blood's downward current was soothing, relaxing. She inhaled its tangy aroma, delighted. Anna couldn’t remember the last time anything felt so fine, so real.



        Her eyes fluttered open, and the blood was gone. The slit in her neck was instantaneously nonexistent.



She spun, hurriedly, a knot of fear rising up in her throat at the thought of her angel being gone too.



        He wasn’t.



        “Find a way.” He cooed, now standing right in front of the still brilliant light, streaming through the doorway.



        She nodded furiously, afraid this was the end of their meeting.



        “Don’t fear the Reaper.”



With that, the door slammed shut, the noise pierced; taking her angel and his luminosity along with it.



        Her angel’s last words still reverberated, supernatural, as she sprinted towards the door.



She attacked the wooden panels with fervor, desperately needing to see the light once more, to feel the blood again, if only for another second.



            Anna whispered to the door, words of undying devotion, kissing the handle before crawling, defeated back to her original position.



Anna coiled into herself, in the absolute center of her pallid prison.



Silence pulsed.



WORD COUNT: 954