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A thought in the dark
To all who read this, you shall know my true turmoil. Over time I shall reveal myself. I hope that you understand.
I strode out on the cold D.C streets, the echo of my shoes on the coblestone my only mortal companion on that frigid morning. I looked to the left and right of the street, looking for the sign which marked the entrance. The D.C tunnels were legendary, but for some reason I couldn't find a single hint of them. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, shaking my head slightly. I was still in disbelief that I was even here, after recieving a letter from someone who should be long dead. But I was, because I was not one to judge the poor ladies condition. I couldn't forget why they had asked me.
It was almost ten years ago that it had happened, but the memory was still as fresh as ever. I lay there on the pavement, fully knowing that I was about to die. I had just stopped a mugging, some poor old lady surrounded by five or so gang members. I shouted for them to leave her alone, and they did, but only in favor of a new toy, me. Two of them held my arms while a third, the presumed leader, proceeded to give me multiple stabbings with his machette. His laft gift was one that was supposed to be merciful. He leveled a small handgun at my head flinching at the last second and sending the bullet through my throat instead. They ran, leaving me there to die in peace and pain. But I wasn't alone for long. "Need some help there son?" A man asked, knealing down beside me, letting me see his all black clothes. I wanted to punch him right then, simply for stating the obvious. He pulled me to my feet, flashing me a smile of bone-white teeth. "No need for violence now, son." He retorted, or is that even the right word, seing as I hadn't said anything. "It looks like you played the hero's role and forgot the pricetag attached." He sat me on a bench, taking a seat next to me. "I could help you, if you want." He offered, his voice taking up more space then it should. "I can make you better, but there's a price for that too." I could only look at him, unable to speak. "It's not too bad of a trade, just the occasional errand here and there, fetching things for me. A few perks, too." He looked me dead in the eye, and for the first time I saw something wrong with him. His eyes wern't there, leaving two empty, black pits in their wake. "It would be a permanent deal." He said, his voice now cold and empty of all emotions. He produced a piece of old fashioned parchment, holding it out to me. A drop of my blood fell out onto it as I felt the closeness of death seeping in. I closed my eyes for what I now wished was the last time, nodding to the man who was now pocketing the paper and walking off. He turned back to me, pounding is staff three times on the ground. In those last few seconds, I saw what I thought was a dilusion of my death. His walking stick tranformed, becoming a long and wicked scythe, and his suit changed to robes of the cruelest black. He smiled one last time before dissapearing.
I woke up in my apartment, thinking that I had just fallen asleep watching tv again until I looked down and saw my bloodstained shirt. I ripped it of, revealing perfectly smooth skin. I was so in shock that it took me a few minutes to notice the other changes the stranger had left me with. When I went to my closet for a new shirt, all of the closes were black. They were still mine, but somehow they were all just black. I was taller, too, I learned after banging my head a few times on my way to the bathroom, and when I changed I discovered my now perfectly sculped body. Not ripped precisely, that would be too much of a giveaway to others, but I was definitely much stronger than I was a few hours ago. I shook it off as best I could, almost losing it when I saw a scroll on the table, the same parchment the man had used. I read it, a contract of sorts. On the bottom, where ther signatures go, there were two I could'nt read, one I could, and one I wish I hadn't. The two illegible ones were witnesses, and the readable one was mine, in some kind of red ink. On the last line read the other signature, "Mr. Grim R." It took a few minutes for it all to sink in, a realization coming to mind. I had just made a deal with death himself.





 
 
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