Pivot: Spooky Tales with a Twist by D. D. Line

Author:D. D. Line [Line, D. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-09-30T04:00:00+00:00

Demon Decanted

Theme - Halloween

Within the cowled hood, bared teeth clenched to the point of pain as Death stalked past rows of glass-encased objects. Empty sockets gazed upon countless relics, but not one object displayed was the item Death sought.

Not only was the new assistant an idiot to think he could cheat Death, but clearly, he had the forethought of an imbecile. One look at the torturous scenes depicted on the urn should have been all the warning he needed not to remove it from its resting place. Greed had been the assistant’s motivation. There could be no other reason to bring that particular piece to an auction overrun with ... Breathers! They were all the same. Weak, pathetic, oxygen-stealing meat sacks intent on cheating death. They were always on the lookout for some mystical object that granted them immortality and power beyond their wildest dreams. Fools, the lot of them. Generation upon generation and no one had ever succeeded. Long before the Breathers’ bones crumbled to dust, much like the objects at the auction, Death came for them all. Possessing the urn and the demon trapped within would not change that.

Death moved faster, the dark robes billowing like ebony sails. Within their glass confines, objects quivered as if they knew a power greater than their own had left an eerie chill in its wake. No Breather would have noticed the subtle movement. They only acknowledged the sudden change in the air. Some complained to management about the air conditioning. Others moved closer to the neat row of chairs as if craving some sense of normality. Only a few dared to remain amongst the displays.

Death halted. The audible creak of an ancient jaw falling open went unnoticed as the gavel hit wood and a Breather proclaimed Item Number six hundred and sixty-six was ‘sold’. Skeletal fingers stretched toward the auctioneer in a menacing gesture before the clatter of bone dropped and tightened around the ornate wood of his scythe. The curved, steel beauty of the blade did little to appease him. The knowledge that Death couldn’t reap the souls of its victims should the demon be released made Death’s lipless mouth curl in disgust. All it would take was one careless knock or an indulgence of morbid curiosity to remove the stopper and the urn would shatter. And when that happened, the imprisoned demon and all those captured with it would be free.

Death turned and passed Breathers who were unaware the tall, dark figure strode amongst them, yet shivered and told themselves that someone had ‘just walked over their grave.’ It was crucial Death found the new owners and informed them of the consequences of their purchase and the curse they had bequeathed their descendants. On the bright side, Death supposed, there’d be an abundance of souls to collect upon completion of the unenviable task of recapturing the demon. As for the new assistant, well, no one cheated Death.

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