Out of the box rose a whirlwind of dark sand. The substance was pitch black and shone with a threatening glare, like a knife poised to strike. It collected into a loose figure, then fused into a human form, floating in the air.
A figure with a dark grey cloak, covering its whole face. The robes dragged across the floor, like a bridal train. From the sleeves appeared bone hands, yellow, some fingers rotting away.
Black mist surrounded it, sadness and anger radiated from its form. The monster pulled out a scythe, encrusted with obsidian and black quartz, from its back. When it fell to the ground, a large clunk reverberated throughout the room. Avon yelped as the sound hit her ears.
It was a Reaper. A monster only heard of in legends.
However, it was more terrifying than Avon could ever have imagined.
The reaper broke up into particles of dust and was sucked back into the box. The weapon's hilt clattered to the ground and soon the scythe disintegrated. All remnants of the beast were gone, but terror still filled Avon's body. She trembled, still not fully taking in what she had just seen. A Reaper, she thought. Surely not, it can't be-
"Who's there?" said the raspy voice.
YOU ARE READING
The Time to Run
FantasyA woman living in a world with magic is working one evening when her life is changed forever. She saw something she shouldn't have. Avon ends up having to go on the run from the monarchy for something she hadn't meant to do. What will happen next? C...
