Here’s a one shot, serving as an intermission between the two arcs. I think I’ll always plug in a one shot when we change arcs for generation 9.
I was in a world of black and white.
I used to think it was boring and plain and dull.
I realize now, that it was beautiful in its own way. It didn’t need tall elegant trees or smells that make you think of heaven, or creatures that make your mind soar. The people it held were more than enough.
I lay on the ground, my cheek pressed against this new dirt, my lungs taking in this new air, my ears listening to the new sounds.
I lay there feeling unlike myself. I could feel something new stirring inside me. Magic
But it didn’t quite matter. Laying here, I just wanted to drift off into an endless sleep.
“Ah there you are. I did not see you in the fog for a moment there.” A voice said.
Would it be normal to say I sensed her coming? The moment she stepped into the graveyard, I knew I wasn’t alone. I wouldn’t be able to explain why though.
Probably another of those things he did to me.
“What are you doing here? You should not be on the ground like this. Autumn is coming. You will catch a cold.” The woman said, sitting down near me, but at a safe distance. Do I appear dangerous?
“I’m waiting.” I forced out, wondering who she was, what level of importance she had in this makeshift world.
“For him.” I muttered and her eyes drifted up to the statue.
“The Grim Reaper? Witch, that man comes only to the dead.” The woman said.
Witch? The word echoed true in my mind.
“I sure hope that was not your intention. Simply laying on the ground is not an efficient method to end one’s life.”
I sighed. “He dropped me here without any warning. He left me alone in this creepy world of his and I don’t know what he expects me to do. Everything I’ve ever known is gone.” Doesn’t matter if you gave me powers, I’ve no use for them.
The blue-haired maiden smiled. “I rather doubt he wishes this for you. The Grim Reaper watches and cares for us all. If he left you here alone, it was surely for a reason. If only for me to meet you.”
“Who are you?”
“A writer. I record the things the Grim Reaper dictates as history.” She replied. “And I am receiving the distinct feeling that you will be important. What are you named?” She asked, extending her hand. I took it and she helped lift me up.
“Welcome to the story Assaria.”
I glanced back at the statue I’d been clinging to for the last three days.
“Come dear.” The writer said. “I have much better things for you to do.”
I may be leaving this place, but don’t you dare think this is me giving me up.
I will find you Damien.