Death’s Strike

Everything was going okay, considering the circumstances.
Mortals and immortals alike, lived and died as their fate decreed.
Order and Chaos was balanced, and good and bad thing occurred as they should.
But then…
Then “They” left.
For they were tired of being vilified in so many ways, just because they were just doing their job.
And with that everything went awry.
Living beings simply couldn’t die.
At first both mortals and higher ranked beings felt blessed.
They were happy, they couldn’t die of old age, of diseases.
But then they realised the harsh truth of reality.
This didn’t meant they stopped aging.
This meant not that the diseases disappeared.
Aging still happened.
Diseases still wrecked the bodies and minds of the beings.
It just meant that the soul couldn’t and wouldn’t depart from their remains.
This meant that one would suffer forever the pains of aging, the pains of diseases, without the release of death.
This meant the absolute decay of one’s body, yet the soul still resided in the bones, in the dust left behind.
The soul was thus trapped.
Even the cruellest death causes, like decapitation, torture, dismembering, complete crushing, wouldn’t make the soul depart, having it stick to the broken flesh, forever and ever.
People went mad.
Order and Chaos became one, and good and bad had no more value.
The beings of power, others at the same level as They were tried to step in, but nobody had the same mastery over death as They did.
Life, Light, Wood, Water, Space, and Time banded together, trying to create temporary bridges for the souls, and it worked.
On a small galaxy, one planet at a time.
It was working, yet it was impossible to implement on an universal scale.
They needed “They” to come back.
And they went to Them, asking for help, asking for leniency, for understanding.
But Death, was unmovable.
For now, everybody knew their value, and yet, nobody was understanding it.
“Not yet, I am rather fond of my new hobby.”
Death said, tending to his garden, and to his herd of self-created creatures.
“Not yet, brother?
This means sometime, you will return?”
Life asked.
Death nodded.
The other gods all left, allowing Death to have his little strike.
Death’s strike got to be known as one of the greatest calamities of the universe, with diseases spreading uncontrollably, and wars being fought with no end in sight…

Published by omnithenerva

Wannabe fiction writer. In love with mythology, and fantasy themes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: