Reaper [Edge of Doom]

Hey, I have had a few requests to write more stories, so this was originally a poem, but I have decided to change it into a short story

for XxxlovelovelovexxX (*wink, wink*) [A/N: Death, Reaper, and Dark Angel are all different names for the same thing]

If anyone wants the poem, just leave me a message asking and I will put it up. ~Storm xx

A skeletal hand unfolded from a cloak of the deepest obsidian black. Clutched in the bony fingers of Death was a small black box with my name engraved in it in gold lettering. Hesitating, I took the offered box and felt a chill as my fingers brushed that of the Reaper. I looked into his eyes and was surprised to see they weren't empty. Deep in their heart was a a burning fire that danced in an ice-blue dress. I carefully slipped off the black velvet ribbon binding the box, and ran my fingers over the the intricate symbols covering it. A rush of energy shot through me making my hands tingle, and I knew they were marks of power. Prising off the lid I gasped at what I saw inside. It was a beautiful and ornately carved hourglass and on the pedestal on which it sat, I saw my name, again in intricate gold lettering. This was Life. In that small little box was my own life. I noticed with alarm that there wasn't much sand left, and every second more and more grains of sand were draining relentlessly away. When I looked up again, The Dark Angel was gone. Panicking, I reached out to turn the hourglass over, but it was like there was some invisible force field around it and I couldn't touch it. It dawned on me that this must be what the symbols engraved in the box were for; so that people couldn't cheat when presented with their life, and try to claim more than they had right to. I couldn't live knowing my life could be taken away any day, any hour even. I contemplated watching the hourglass, but it was just too painful to see my life, my precious, beautiful, irreplaceable life, just drain away without me being able to anything about it. I was going mad, being driven out of my mind by my own life. I couldn't deal with this, my life was draining away so, so fast and soon I knew it would be all over. I let out a mad laugh and ran to the kitchen flinging open all the draws. I ran back to the room containing the hourglass, knife in hand, and grinned madly at the hooded figure that had reappeared and was holding my life in his skeletal hands. Death set the hourglass down and drew out his scythe. I laughed at him. "You won't take me!" I shouted, determination burning in my eyes. I laughed again raising the knife high. Death wouldn't take me. I would go of my own accord. I would decide when I would die. I plunged the knife deep into my chest, just as the last grain of sand teetered on the edge of doom and fell, twirling down to the bottom of the hourglass...

THE END.

Okay this was one of my er.. darker stories but all the same if you liked it vote, comment, fan etc. --Thanks