The Dark Path

The Dark Path

The storm raged. Thunder rumbled in the distance like a giant waking in the distance and lightning flashed every few seconds illuminating the sky and the network of dark alley’s that all but created the city with a harsh blue light.

A dark and imposing young woman of around 21, with snarled, waist length black hair could be seen wandering down one of these numerous alleys. Her hair whipped into her face as a gust of wind blew down the alley, yet her face remained impassive despite the wind, rain and being utterly soaked. She wore a simple black t-shirt and dark blue jeans, that now wet, left very little of her to the imagination. Around her waist were several silk and gauze scarves in different shades of blue and black that served as a belt. She walked out of the alley and straight into another, heedless of the dangers.

Rough looking men in rags with dirt encrusted fingernails and rotting teeth made their way towards her once they saw she was unescorted, a deadly mistake in this town, yet when they neared her fear filled their features and they stumbled away from her as fast as their legs could carry them.

She knew why they ran, and why no one would ever come near her, let alone actually touch her. Whenever anyone came near her, she gave them a feeling that they didn’t want to think about. The feeling that if they came near her something terrible would happen to them.

She smiled grimly as her eyes filled with pain, laughter and remorse. They were right however and it was because of the truth of these feelings that she could walk through even the worst part of town with total impunity.

As her thoughts finished circling each other like a pack of wary wolves, she realized that she had reached the end of the alleyway. The area beyond the alley was neat, proper, and well-lit. Compared to the dark alley behind her it was like night and day, or life and death. The streets were filled with well dressed people who knew that if they stayed where the lamps were they’d stay safe and alive. When her eyes had adjusted to the glaring light ahead of her, she went to take a step across the threshold of life, before a hand on her ankle stopped her. The fact that someone was touching her at all was surprising. It was a small hand, which meant a child, but had a weak grip, which meant she knew what was wrong. She took a couple steps backwards into the darkness and knelt down beside the child.

She was a pitiful thing of around 5 or 6. Her hair was a solid tangle of knots and crawled with lice. Her clothes and skin were caked with mud. She was agonizingly thin, her arms and legs were little more than a sheath of skin over bones. She shifted slightly before reaching over to gently brush the girl’s matted hair away from her small face. The little girl responded to her touch, shifting slightly before looking up at her with eyes bright with fever.

-“Hello little one. What’s wrong?”

-“My chest hurts and I can’t breathe. Mama told me I’m sick. She said that before she wouldn’t wake up. Does that mean that I’m dying; that I’m gonna go to sleep and not wake up?”

-“Yes little one, I’m afraid it does. But that’s good because when you leave you’ll meet up with your mama because you’ll both be in the same place.”

-“That’s good, I’d like to see mama again; I miss her.”

-“Little one, can I ask you a question? Why did you stop me?”

-“You’re pretty and you look friendly and you gave me a happy feeling…like mama. You remind me of mama. And…I wanted a friend.”

-“Alright. I’ll be your friend. I’ll stay here with you. And since we’re friends we should know each others names. My name is Nightshade.”

-“Mama named me Calla.”

Calla’s voice broke on the last syllable as a fit of coughing overtook her. It was a terrible hacking cough. She coughed until blood appeared in the corner of her mouth, until Nightshade was sure that the small girl would bring up a lung. After several minutes the horrible coughing stopped and Calla collapsed utterly breathless and too tired to do anything other than lie there.

Nightshade unwound one of the black scarves from around her waist and gently wiped the blood off of Calla’s lips. As she bent over the girl she listened to Calla’s hoarse breathing and knew that Calla would not be long in this world. She stroked her hand over Calla’s hair, smoothing it down in a last gesture of comfort, oblivious to the mud and bugs that covered it.

Calla started to cough again and more blood came to her lips. Nightshade knew that this would be the girl’s last coughing fit.

The coughing stopped suddenly. Calla looked up at her with eyes filled with fear as she struggled to take her final breaths. As the girl’s lungs rapidly filled with blood, she drew her final breath and let go.

-“Thank you…”

It was the grateful goodbye of Calla’s soul, whispered on her final breath in this world. Nightshade smiled sadly, knowing that the girl was in a better place and gently wrapped the scarf around Calla’s still staring eyes. Two solitary tears made their way down Nightshade’s eyes, and she angrily brushed them away. She never cried, but it always bothered her when people as young as Calla were taken. Yet in this city filled with disease, desperation, and dark desires such deaths were only to be expected and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Nightshade sighed quietly as she stood and turned back towards the brightly lit street. She was late now, but those at her destination would only be grateful for the delay. She went out onto the bright streets and started to weave her way through the crowd, heading towards a cheerful looking blue house. She opened the door without knocking and walked in.

The brown haired woman sweeping the hallway looked up, her face set in a frown, obviously intending to deliver a scathing lecture to whoever would dare enter uninvited. Then the woman saw to whom she was about to deliver the lecture and backed away a few steps, fear evident in her eyes. Nightshade’s eyes, filled with immense pain, watched the woman’s movements. Nightshade’s voice, when she spoke, was filled with both suppressed bitterness and pain.

-“Hello mother. I’ve come for a quick visit.”

The woman flinched as if hit and gulped several times before she visibly controlled herself. When she spoke, however, her voice still held a quiver of fear.

-“Your father fell ill a few weeks ago… Please tell me that’s not why you’re here!”

-“Don’t worry. Like I said before, I’m only here for a quick visit. I’m just checking in. You are my parents after all.”

Tension drained away from the woman until she no longer looked as though she was pressed up against a wall, though she still in no way appeared relaxed.

-“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for you to come and visit us.”

-“You’re my parents. I didn’t choose this and I’m sorry for being who and what I am, but I wanted to see you.”

-“I know this isn’t your fault and I know you can’t help being who you are but we’re not comfortable with it. Besides, if your father sees you here, he’ll come to the wrong conclusions and then no matter what I tell him, he’ll lose the will to live and then the next time you come here it will be for his funeral! So please…just go.”

Nightshade stared at her mother; at the woman standing in front of her that was a complete and utter stranger and finally understood that this part of her life was over. Permanently and it always had been.

-“Fine.”

And so Nightshade turned and left her parent’s house, never looking back. She was accepting her destiny and the curse that the Fates had placed upon her. Hers was a sad existence; shunned by all but those near death. Alone, forever, trapped in the circle of death, whose crushing grip would never let her go.

She was Death and as its Mistress, she commanded it, was trapped by it; always. Alone, with only the souls of the dead as company.