So, based on http://b-funk.deviantart.com/art/Deadly-Obsession-91728392 this picture
Lobo
I struggle to breathe, even though I know it’s useless. Useless, futile… Just as my heart, no longer racing, feebly attempts to move the blood through my veins… It only manages to further stain my breast with the precious fluid. My body’s attempts to keep itself alive only hasten my end.
I cough, forcing blood out of my throat. I still can’t breathe.
I should be afraid to die…
Everything is growing darker, darker, like a black cloth pulled over my eyes… A dull roar, the barely heard remnant of the commotion I know to be around me.
I should be afraid… But I have never feared death.
A detached thought, cold and unfeeling, comes unbidden to my mind. Will I see them again? Will everyone who died before me, all the deaths they blamed me for, be waiting? Or am I doomed to an eternity of darkness and hellfire?
I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone…
A whisper somehow breaks through when all of the shouting and screaming cannot, “You’re safe now, Beloved.”
Whose voice is this? I’ve never heard it before, yet it seems so familiar…
A cool, autumn breeze brushes across my face. It brings the smell of apples and burning leaves, the clean, cold bite that promises the coming winter…
I can’t feel anything. Not the hot, summer sun beating down on me, nor the bonds holding me in place. I can no longer feel my limbs, nor where the knife had been plunged into my heart… So why this phantom breeze, this voice and smell?
Cool lips press a gentle kiss against mine, cracked and bloody…
They draw away, leaving me alone once more. They, like the rest of the town, are undoubtedly glad to be rid of my cursed presence.
“It’s over,” the voice murmurs.
There is a whistling noise, the sound of something cutting through the air… ending in my chest.
I scream.
“No one can hurt you now.”
And, defying all logic, there was no pain after the initial impact. Instead, a comforting warmth envelops me. Someone is holding me, and I feel… safe.
It’s as if my limbs are made of air, but weighted down by lead. At first, it seems such an effort simply to open my eyes… and then I see him, the one with the voice.
At first I cannot see his face, hidden as it is in the shadows. The only thing visible is a pale, slender-fingered hand. All else is obscured by shadow and a loose, dark robe.
“I’m sorry that you have to go through this,” he whispers. He shifts slightly, the light reaching into his hood to reveal his face. His features are delicate yet firm, like the work of a master sculptor. It’s as if he’s carved of marble, or maybe moonlight…
“Am I dead?”
A slow nod. Is it just my imagination, or is he crying?
There is a sizzling, cracking sound, heat at my back… Fire!
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t look back,” he cautions.
Fear grips me, a terror more profound than that of my actual death, “Am I going to Hell?”
“Don’t look back.”
Fighting off the lethargic weight upon me, I struggle to get away from him. I don’t want to go to Hell! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, no matter what everyone else said. None of it was my fault!
“Kendi!”
I’m brought up short. I don’t know which is worse, seeing him or seeing what’s left of me…
The strange man stands before me, an imposing presence blocking my way. He didn’t seem nearly so tall nor so powerful before with his quiet voice and delicate hands. Now he stands tall, great, black wings emerging from his back, a scythe in his hand. Death, in all of his glory…
And there, just beyond him… There lie the remains of what used to be me. My body stares sightlessly into the heavens, hands and feet bound. I can see where they thrust the knife into my heart, where the blood has stained my once white robe… And now, flames devour my remains, eliminating all traces of my life.
Red hair shrivels and smolders. Cloth darkens, blackens and burns. Soon, too, shall my flesh catch fire and be no more… I cannot bear to look.
Death wraps his arms about me, dark, dark wings blocking sight and sound, “I told you not to look, foolish, foolish Kendi.”
Worst of all, even more painful than seeing myself lie there…
“How could they do this?” I cry, clutching at Death, of all things, for comfort, “I didn’t do anything, and yet they… they… I knew these people!”
Yes, I had known them, grown up with them… I knew each of my murderers by name, knew their friends and families. As a child, I had played with the men who bound me and drug me to my execution. The man who had dealt the killing blow had taught me about the love of our Creator. And the woman who had lit the pyre? She was my next-door neighbor.
So how? How could these people turn on one of their own? Commit murder and call it good?
Death sighs, “You’re still so young…”
“What happens now?”
“That’s entirely up to you, my love.”
My love… Beloved… Then they were right, I really am the beloved of Death…
“They killed me because of you,” I can barely hear my own voice as I say it, “Everyone around me died and the people said that I was cursed…”
“No one dies because of me, I simply come when their time is up. You should know that better than any other mortal,” he sounds so sad…
I cough, forcing blood out of my throat. I still can’t breathe.
I should be afraid to die…
Everything is growing darker, darker, like a black cloth pulled over my eyes… A dull roar, the barely heard remnant of the commotion I know to be around me.
I should be afraid… But I have never feared death.
A detached thought, cold and unfeeling, comes unbidden to my mind. Will I see them again? Will everyone who died before me, all the deaths they blamed me for, be waiting? Or am I doomed to an eternity of darkness and hellfire?
I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone…
A whisper somehow breaks through when all of the shouting and screaming cannot, “You’re safe now, Beloved.”
Whose voice is this? I’ve never heard it before, yet it seems so familiar…
A cool, autumn breeze brushes across my face. It brings the smell of apples and burning leaves, the clean, cold bite that promises the coming winter…
I can’t feel anything. Not the hot, summer sun beating down on me, nor the bonds holding me in place. I can no longer feel my limbs, nor where the knife had been plunged into my heart… So why this phantom breeze, this voice and smell?
Cool lips press a gentle kiss against mine, cracked and bloody…
They draw away, leaving me alone once more. They, like the rest of the town, are undoubtedly glad to be rid of my cursed presence.
“It’s over,” the voice murmurs.
There is a whistling noise, the sound of something cutting through the air… ending in my chest.
I scream.
“No one can hurt you now.”
And, defying all logic, there was no pain after the initial impact. Instead, a comforting warmth envelops me. Someone is holding me, and I feel… safe.
It’s as if my limbs are made of air, but weighted down by lead. At first, it seems such an effort simply to open my eyes… and then I see him, the one with the voice.
At first I cannot see his face, hidden as it is in the shadows. The only thing visible is a pale, slender-fingered hand. All else is obscured by shadow and a loose, dark robe.
“I’m sorry that you have to go through this,” he whispers. He shifts slightly, the light reaching into his hood to reveal his face. His features are delicate yet firm, like the work of a master sculptor. It’s as if he’s carved of marble, or maybe moonlight…
“Am I dead?”
A slow nod. Is it just my imagination, or is he crying?
There is a sizzling, cracking sound, heat at my back… Fire!
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t look back,” he cautions.
Fear grips me, a terror more profound than that of my actual death, “Am I going to Hell?”
“Don’t look back.”
Fighting off the lethargic weight upon me, I struggle to get away from him. I don’t want to go to Hell! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, no matter what everyone else said. None of it was my fault!
“Kendi!”
I’m brought up short. I don’t know which is worse, seeing him or seeing what’s left of me…
The strange man stands before me, an imposing presence blocking my way. He didn’t seem nearly so tall nor so powerful before with his quiet voice and delicate hands. Now he stands tall, great, black wings emerging from his back, a scythe in his hand. Death, in all of his glory…
And there, just beyond him… There lie the remains of what used to be me. My body stares sightlessly into the heavens, hands and feet bound. I can see where they thrust the knife into my heart, where the blood has stained my once white robe… And now, flames devour my remains, eliminating all traces of my life.
Red hair shrivels and smolders. Cloth darkens, blackens and burns. Soon, too, shall my flesh catch fire and be no more… I cannot bear to look.
Death wraps his arms about me, dark, dark wings blocking sight and sound, “I told you not to look, foolish, foolish Kendi.”
Worst of all, even more painful than seeing myself lie there…
“How could they do this?” I cry, clutching at Death, of all things, for comfort, “I didn’t do anything, and yet they… they… I knew these people!”
Yes, I had known them, grown up with them… I knew each of my murderers by name, knew their friends and families. As a child, I had played with the men who bound me and drug me to my execution. The man who had dealt the killing blow had taught me about the love of our Creator. And the woman who had lit the pyre? She was my next-door neighbor.
So how? How could these people turn on one of their own? Commit murder and call it good?
Death sighs, “You’re still so young…”
“What happens now?”
“That’s entirely up to you, my love.”
My love… Beloved… Then they were right, I really am the beloved of Death…
“They killed me because of you,” I can barely hear my own voice as I say it, “Everyone around me died and the people said that I was cursed…”
“No one dies because of me, I simply come when their time is up. You should know that better than any other mortal,” he sounds so sad…
Hmmm, so... what do you think? Any suggestions? Stuff like that...
Eh, so I put what else I got today up... New stuff in blue, I suppose.
