Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra

Rohit Arora

Abstract Thriller Tragedy


4.8  

Rohit Arora

Abstract Thriller Tragedy


The life of Death

The life of Death

3 mins 10.9K 3 mins 10.9K

I sensed the end of a life, or rather, the end of many lives. Though I could sense it everywhere, it seemed more saturated here. Probably an accident; a plane crash, judging by the quantity of lives lost. I closed my eyes, and opened them, and there I was. My predictions had been correct, as always; a plane crash.

It may have been a huge plane once, could have housed around a hundred, but now it was no more than the relic of a lost dream. The wings had broken apart during its flight, which was the cause of the accident. After all, what is a bird without its wings? Smoke rose from the back, an inky black line against the pearl white canvas of a sky, fading gradually at the top. The front of the aircraft had been thawed off, as if chewed by a monster, which was impossible, because there is no other monster in this existence except me.

I floated through the opening. One would think of an angel, but I am, the complete opposite of that. I am the other side of the coin, the night of the day, the hidden face of hell. Entering the plane was like entering another dimension; the atmosphere was entirely different. The coldness of the shimmering metal was nothing compared to the coldness of the static, lifeless bodies dangling upside down in their seats, with the seat belts still buckled around them. They all may have been someone at some time, but now had lost their identity. Each one’s face was more ruined than the next. Eyes squished inside, nose broken, some even had their whole face ripped off their heads, their skull gleamed in the pale light entering through the broken windows. At least the plane and its passengers had something in common; an empty, wrecked frame of a vehicle consisting of empty shells of mannequins.

Blood was slowly dripping onto the ceiling of the plane, forming a bright, crimson carpet. A man was sandwiched between two emergency exit doors; the parachute bag slung across his shoulders told its own story. It seemed that his leg had gotten stuck in the doors, which was what stopped him from making his somewhat daring escape, and cheating me. I smiled at that thought. No one could ever cheat me.

No one could ever cheat death. No matter how long they try to hold me off, I always come in the end. Fluorescent strips were lined up at both edges of the aisle, supposedly to lead the passengers to safety, though not anymore. At the very end of the plane, a young mother still clung to her little child, her iron arms gripped hard around him, though the child’s body had somehow been decapitated, and his head somewhere down the aisle. I slowly hovered through the plane; reaping each soul one by one. All the passengers had one thing in common. By the look of each of their expressions, their last feeling had been fear, or terror. I wouldn’t blame them. After all, I am the most feared in this world. Everyone fears death, and I, am Death himself.


Rate this content
Log in

More english story from Rohit Arora

Similar english story from Abstract