Lullaby

Chapter Fifteen

The mist turned into a long, luscious black cloak. I smile at such a sight, such a soft silk... God was about to hand it over when he paused to look over my shoulder, but before I can investigate--

WHOSH! A large silver and brown object flung past me, the wood stopped and headed towards my throat.
It squeezed out my breath as I try to turn my head... It's a scythe.

It's Monty. Crap, I'm gonna die. Again.

I stop struggling and pretend to be dead, he stops pulling so hard and the stillness stings all through my body.
I keep my eyes closed enough to see, but enough to fool them. I let my muscle relax, fight or flight kick in...

Fight. I'm gonna fight of course!

I jerk my head back violently, bashing his forehead, then when he released his grasp on my capture I turn at the highest speed I can, lunging on a turn with my right foot and elbow him directly in the nose. Causing it to gush out blood.

Lucky for my boney elbows maximise any possible damage.
He held his scythe in his right hand as he smudged the blood across his cheek with his left.
Monty died at a fairly young age by the looks of him... But in afterlife years he's a billion.
I'm supposedly thirty in the afterlife but being practically immortal has it ups and downs.

I study Monty's face carefully like I would a test paper. His forehead is lightly wrinkled with worry and anger lines, his grey eyes where alive but somehow dead at the same time... His hair is scruffy and fiery red, like his personality. His face is carved into the deepest scowl I have ever seen on somebody. A growl arose from the back of his throat.

"So, you're the next in line for the Scythe?" He requested. I didn't answer.
"Shy one, are you?" He mocked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Fuck off." I snap loudly.
"Ooh, what you gonna do? You don't even know how this whole thing works. You're pathetic!"

I dived, going to punch him mid-air; he swiped the scythe across my diaphragm. It's almost like its in slow motion... I feel nothing, see everything but can imagine it all.
The blood swished across the blade and splattered onto the floor.

As the scythe had finished its slicing, and i had flown over it, I rolled into a stand. I can die from this, even though I can't feel it. He kept trying to hit me, but i sharply dodge each swing, getting closer to Monty; so close I grab his disgusting ginger hair and tugged, heaving him towards the mirror.

I kick the scythe from his grasp and spin the mirror so that neither of us can enter and smash his face on it repeatedly... Over and over and over!
I lug him along, barely controlling his scrawny but strong body and throw him to the ground.

He landed on his side, and I kicked him in the stomach. He pulled my foot towards him so my lanky body fell backwards, I turn over and scramble on my stomach across the white musky cloud. Me trying to get up and Monty trying to prevent that. He seized my ankles, flipped me onto my back and gripped my throat.

I gasp for air desperately, I can feel it leaving me... My essence is disappearing. I don't even know how it's possible for a soul to be destroyed.

The scythe is too far for me to reach and as Monty drains the energy force from me, the only thing I can muster myself to do is...

"AAGHH!!" He screamed. And I grabbed his groin...

Then twist, again and again... He let go of my neck and rolled away, but towards the scythe I was also going for. Still in agonising pain (I'm guessing that's the only spot that a person can feel pain, or that the older an MD gets the more pain they can feel.) he reclaimed the scythe and stepped on my chest, the scythe above his head...

"Shift!" Yelled the angel.
"I can't shift, I'm an MD!" I cry out.
Monty smirked.
"You really are clueless aren't you." He roared with laughter.
That piece of ginger shit.

Shift. I have to shift? What do I even shift into?! I squeeze down on my diaphragm and begin to see results.
I didn't know it was this easy!
My hands... They're changing.