Prologue

This could be a prologue to a sort of story I've been thinking about.

   Once upon a time, there was nothing. No time or thoughts or life or death. And then there was something. No one really knows how, even though so many believe they do. Most people-in this time and age, and in all generations before-worship Gods or Goddesses and even on single, almighty deity. It is thought and even trusted that these beings made all that can be seen and the rest of what can't be seen.
   And maybe they're right, even though not all their religions can be correct at once. Maybe a power beyond our comprehension whipped up the world we walk on. But where did this deity come from? Who created it?
   I think the creatures out there, who know so much more than anyone here can, would find it fantastically amusing that someone considers them a god. Good old Fate is probably busting a gut in whatever realm she sits, and the Time guy is most likely trying to make sure she doesn't die laughing.
   That is, if metaphorical people can die. Who knows?
   But anyway, at one point or another, people (Not the metaphorical kind) began to show up on the lands, and they took claim. The sea was theirs and the skies were too. Settlements began to spring up, and settlements soon turned to towns, which became cities. The people learned quickly and their imaginations gave birth to technology and government and philosophy. With these, though, came separation. The land, whether anyone really realized it was happening or not, became divided and boundaries were drawn. The people began to discriminate against other cities; for each each their city was far better than the rest.
   And so the lands fell apart, no longer united. Wars were waged to test the skill and strength of neighboring cities, and too many were slaughtered as the people became greedy. More land, more power.
   Who knows when the wars will end? Who knows if the wars will end? They've been here for as long as I can remember, and my parents only ever talk about the war during their own childhood. Maybe this battle is eternal.
   I have to go-those are the alarms. Probably another false bomb threat. I'll just end up tossing this later; no one needs to read my rants except for me.
   So until I return to throw it out,
                    See ya'
                             -Colette

----
   Death was bored. He was pretty lazy too. As much as he wanted to go out and ruin lives, he just wasn't motivated. He didn't understand. He'd always loved his job and never passed up an opportunity to murder someone. And there was so much of that going on by itself. In all regards, he should have been out, having the time of his life... But he wasn't. He hadn't been enjoying himself for what the mortals would have considered centuries, if time existed where he was laying.
   Death sighed, a forlorn and lonely sound, and the aura in the area was singed with dismay. Even his unwilling lover held no interest for him anymore. Besides, Life had been missing for quite awhile now. She'd probably returned to the nothing she'd com from. It'd be just like her to do that; she'd never really been one to enjoy existence. Ironic, some would say, but it wasn't really. She spent her immortal "life" watching those she'd helped find and bond to a mortal body be ripped apart and dragged back to the in-between realm.
   Death had always found it infuriating that she thought so negatively toward what he did. The two of them had decided long ago, when she'd first begun to pair souls to bodies, that someone would have to return them to just a soul. How happy would her children (As she'd so fondly called them) be if they were all cramped into an overcrowded world? And she had agreed.
   Death shook his head, grunting in pent-up frustration, and some being not far away cringed. Death ignored it, continuing his train of thought.
   Life really had no reason to complain about it to him anyway. He'd recently quit his job, whether anyone acknowledged it or not. The only reason the mortal world wasn't in spiritual disaster and the in-between realm wasn't in disarray was because... Well, that was his little secret. His and Life's, but she wasn't around to gossip about it which left just him.
   Death smiled-sort of. He smiled as well as a bringer of tragedy who had lost all motivation in his existence could. He thought he heard that being cry out in fear or pain or maybe even both. His frightening grin turned to a scowl when he realized that the being's hurt didn't make him feel any better. Something was really wrong with him anymore.
   He let his discontent reach out and snatch the unlucky thing and pull it, rip it, tear it, until it vanished- gone forever but at the same time hovering outside everything... Just like Life probably was.
   Death, now alone, placed his arm across his already closed eyes and sulked.

----
   I glance at the stream nearby, feeling somehow at home. Funny, I think, because I've never been to a place like this. The river that rushes by the city isn't calm or relaxing; it's kind of crazy. I hear about people dying there every year.
   I turn my head to look behind me, up at the giant tree that twists up into the air. It reminds me of a skyscraper. Kind of. I don't think skyscrapers are alive, and I sure as hell know they aren't as amazing as this.
   Again, as I stride through the tall, waist-height grass toward it, I think that it is really odd that this place is so familiar to me. I can only think of two places that have a tree like this, and so many other trees around it, I note as I stare into the forest. There's the Hunter's City to the north and that one law city to the south, and I've never been to either.
   Oh, that's right. This must be that dream.
   I stop walking as I realize it and turn slowly to stare at the wooden bridge. I should hear screaming any sec-oh, there it is. Now I inch forward, kind of sick to my stomach. I can smell something, and part of me loves it. I shun that part.
   My toe bumps the plank connecting the bridge to dirt, and my stomach lurches. There's something, in the dark, but... It's in the dark a little too well. This is like those horror films, I think as I warily cross the bridge and the stream below. One of the scenes where the stupid girl sees something in a forest where a killer had been lurking and heads on in anyway.
   I keep going.
   When I cross into the shadows and can see it for myself, I shudder. It looks like a person except wrong. It's twisted in a way that makes me think it's dead-its leg bent forward instead of back and its body folded over like a sandwich.
   I bend down on one knee and grab its shoulder, forcing it into a semi-normal laying position on its stomach. I shove it so it rolls onto its back and...
   I puke, or at least, I should. I throw my hands up to my mouth instead, feeling my eyes grow too wide. Is it even possible for eyes to get this huge?
   I think it must have been a person. Its eyes, as large as mine, have no colour to them, and its lips are blue. What's so horrible is that its face is all wrinkled in, like someone put a vacuum in their mouth. Its face is all pale-like a dead pale-and the only colour on it is the red of blood that trails down its wrinkled cheek. As I look, the rest of it is covered in that blood.
   Someone laughs, and I twirl around, my back popping as I do. No one is there.
   I breathe in a nervous breath and turn back to the body, squinting at it like maybe that'll help make it less horrible.
   And I reach toward it.
   I don't know why. In fact, if I hadn't been looking, I wouldn't have known I was doing it. There's that feeling again-the one I felt when I smelled the blood. I'm happy.
   It's dead and torn up, and I'm happy. I reach its face and pet it, my fingers trailing along the lines of blood on its cheek.
   Someone keeps chuckling, and the sound makes the air go cold. Whoever did this, that's them, laughing. They think this is funny.
   I try to turn and find the person, but something catches my eye. I lean over the bloodied thing and stare down into its dead gaze. A person is reflected there, a girl with eyes glowing a crazy, pupil-less green, and a crooked grin that opens to laugh.
   That's me, I realize. I try to scream but all that exits is that laughing, ringing off the trees.